Chapter 116 Chapter One hundred and fifteen
ARA
Thayne forced me to take a break, but rest was impossible. I spent hours pacing the bedroom, then sitting on the edge of the mattress, then pacing again, trying to convince myself that everything would be all right.
That I could face my father. That I could bring Jimmy Ackerfield down the way my mother never had the chance to.
I didn’t know how yet. The how would come later. But deep in my gut, I knew I would do it. I had to. For my sisters, for the twins growing inside me. For every year my mother had lived in fear of that man, and every year I’d carried her silence like a second skin.
I was asleep when Thayne entered the bedroom.
The door opened so quietly I almost didn’t hear it.
But the faint click of the latch pulled me from the edges of sleep. My eyes fluttered open to dim light filtering through the curtains. It was early evening, maybe.
The room smelled faintly of antiseptic and him: cedar, gun oil, and the sharp metallic tang of blood that never quite washed away.
He stood in the doorway for a long second, silhouetted against the hallway light, watching me.
I pushed myself up on one elbow. “You’re back.”
He closed the door softly behind him. “Yeah.”
He looked wrecked, his shirt untucked, sleeves rolled to his elbows, fresh bandage peeking out at his collar.
The lines around his eyes were deeper than they’d been earlier. He moved like every step cost him something.
“How did it go?” I asked.
He crossed to the bed, sat on the edge, and exhaled like he’d been holding the breath since he left.
“Ursula talked.” He said it in a strained voice. “Eventually,” he added.
I sat up fully, pulling the sheet around me. “Sasha?”
“She’s alive. Just like Ursula said, she's locked in a warehouse on the west docks, Pier 42, sub-basement level. They’ve got her in a converted shipping container. There are two guards outside, one on the inside. There are no cameras or alarms. They think she’s too broken to try anything.”
My stomach twisted when I remembered the things Ursula had said, that they'd ravaged her body over and over.
“Broken how?” I asked, dreading the answer.
Thayne’s jaw flexed. He looked away for a second, then back at me.
“They hurt her,” he said quietly. “A lot. But she’s still fighting. Ursula said she heard her cursing them out three days ago. That’s how they knew she was still… herself.”
I closed my eyes, tears burning behind my lids.
“We have to help her.” I said softly.
He nodded. “We will get her out.”
He reached for my hand, lacing our fingers together. “But you’re not going with me.”
I yanked my hand back. “What?”
“You heard me.” He said firmly. “You’re staying here. I want you under heavy protection.”
I stared at him, frowning. “You can’t be serious.”
“I’m dead serious.” He leaned closer, his eyes locked on mine. “I almost lost you once. I won’t risk it again. Not when you’re carrying our children. Not when one wrong move could—”
“I’m not helpless,” I cut in. “I’m not sitting here while you go out there, putting your life on the line.”
“You need to be safe.” He countered.
“I need to be useful!” The words burst out louder than I intended. “I’ve been running, hiding, being carried for months. I’m tired of it. I want to fight. I want to help end this. I want to bring my father down to his knees.”
He studied me for a long moment. “You want to fight,” he repeated quietly.
“Yes.”
He exhaled slowly, then stood. He walked to the dresser, opened the top drawer, and pulled out a small black case.
He set it on the bed between us and flipped the latches. I blinked.
Inside was a compact pistol. It was matte black, suppressor already threaded on the barrel. There were two spare magazines, and a slim holster.
He lifted the gun and held it out to me, grip first.
“Then you fight,” he said. “But you do it my way. You stay behind me. You stay low. You only fire if I say fire. And if things go wrong, if anyone gets close to you, you run. No heroics, Ara. You protect yourself first.”
I stared at the gun. Then at him. My hand closed around the grip.
It was heavier than I expected, it reminded me of the gun I'd used back in the living room. “I can do that,” I said.
He nodded once.
I thought that was it. I thought we were finally moving forward together.
Which was why I was confused and furious when I woke up and he wasn’t in the room.
The bed beside me was cold. The penthouse was quiet, and there were no low voices in the hallway, no footsteps, no sound of Thayne giving orders.
I sat up fast, my heart already pounding.
“Thayne?”
All I got was nothing.
I swung my legs over the side of the bed. My robe was draped over the chair; I pulled it on and tied it quickly. The gun he’d given me was still on the nightstand, loaded, with the safety on (I’d checked twice before falling asleep).
I left it there for now. I searched the bedroom first, then the bathroom, the walk-in closet, even under the bed like he might be hiding there. Still nothing.
The living room was empty. The kitchen was dark, and the guest rooms were untouched.
Panic started to crawl up my throat. I hurried to the front door and yanked it open.
The new doorman was standing at his post when I found him, and he immediately straightened when he saw me approaching.
“Where is he?” I asked without preamble.
He hesitated, scratching the back of his neck. “He left with his men about two hours ago, ma’am. He left orders not to wake you.”
“What?”
“He said you needed rest. That he’d handle the warehouse, and that you were safer here.”
I stared at him. Safer.
Thayne had left me behind. Again.
After everything, after promising we would do this together, after giving me the gun, after looking into my eyes and saying no more running, he’d left me behind.
I felt the heat rise in my chest, the anger, betrayal, and fear all twisting together until I could barely breathe.