Chapter 217

Chapter 217


The moment Rourke smiled and tapped his earpiece, a cold jolt of dread slammed into my chest.

“Ryan,” I whispered.

Liam was already moving.

“Secure the building!” he barked at Gabrielle. “Christabel—stay with Marcus!”

I didn’t stay.

I ran.

Adrenaline surged through me as I sprinted out of the conservatory and into the street. The night air was bitter, slicing against my skin as my shoes pounded the pavement. My phone buzzed in my hand—Gabrielle’s voice.

“We just lost signal on the perimeter camera by the west lot. There’s a black van—license plate matches one flagged in Peris’s files. They’ve got Ryan.”

A scream clawed its way up my throat, but I shoved it down. I couldn’t afford to fall apart. Not now.

I darted into Liam’s car. The engine roared to life beneath my trembling hands.

“Track them!” I shouted into the speaker. “Where are they headed?”

A beat. Then Gabrielle’s voice: “Industrial district. Old shipping yard. We’re rerouting teams now. Liam’s ahead of you.”

I floored the accelerator.

My son was out there.

And I would burn the world down before I let them touch a hair on his head.

—

The old shipping yard loomed like a skeleton in the darkness—rusting containers stacked like tombstones, floodlights flickering sporadically. I spotted Liam’s car near the fence, abandoned.

I grabbed the small firearm Gabrielle had forced me to carry “just in case” and slipped into the shadows.

Gunshots cracked in the distance.

I ducked behind a stack of crates and saw them—Victor and Rourke’s men in a firefight with Liam and Gabrielle’s team. Somewhere beyond the chaos, I heard a child’s scream.

Ryan.

I moved fast, heart hammering.

A container door slammed shut ahead of me.

Two guards. Armed.

I waited until they turned.

And then I ran up behind the first and slammed the butt of the pistol into the back of his knee. He fell with a grunt. The second turned—too slow.

I fired.

The bullet struck him in the shoulder, and he collapsed with a howl.

My hands were shaking.

But I didn’t stop.

I yanked open the container door.

And there he was—Ryan. Crying, tied to a chair, eyes wide with terror.

“Mommy!”

I dropped to my knees and cut the zip ties with the knife Liam had tucked into my jacket earlier.

“I’ve got you, baby. It’s okay.”

He sobbed against my shoulder, and I cradled him tightly. But I knew it wasn’t over.

I turned.

Victor stood at the container entrance, blood on his face, a pistol in his hand.

“Touching,” he sneered. “Really.”

I moved Ryan behind me.

“Let him go, Victor.”

He stepped forward. “You don’t get to make demands. You ruined everything. Rourke wanted you dead. I wanted you broken. But now? I’ll settle for both.”

He raised the gun.

I fired first.

The shot ripped through his shoulder, sending him staggering back with a howl of pain.

But another figure appeared behind him—and this time, I didn’t feel hope.

Rourke.

Calm. Cold. Holding a detonator.

“You still don’t get it, do you?” he said, voice even. “This was never about Liam. Or the company. This was about power. Legacy. Control.”

I aimed the gun at him.

“Put it down.”

He smiled. “You think I’d let you win?”

A click.

The timer lit up.

“Goodbye, Christabel.”

He vanished into the shadows.

“Go!” I screamed at Ryan. “Run to Gabrielle!”

He hesitated, crying, but I shoved him forward. He sprinted into the dark.

I chased after him, yelling, “Liam!”

The explosion ripped through the shipping yard seconds later, a thunderous roar that shook the earth. Flames erupted behind me. Shrapnel cut through the air like knives.

Someone tackled me to the ground—Liam.

“You okay?” he shouted.

I nodded, gasping. “Ryan—”

“He’s safe. Gabrielle has him!”

We scrambled to our feet as fire consumed the container where Ryan had been moments earlier. Victor’s body lay motionless near the wreckage. Rourke was gone.

For now.

—

Back at the penthouse, everything was quiet.

Ryan was asleep on the couch, nestled between Gabrielle and Marcus. Liam poured me a glass of water with shaking hands.

“I should’ve killed Rourke when I had the chance,” he said again.

I sat beside him. “We still can.”

He turned to me, eyes bloodshot. “No. We end this legally. I want every dirty deal exposed. I want the press to see his face, his crimes. I want the world to know who tried to kill my family.”

I nodded.

But in my heart, I knew this war was far from over.

One last battle remained.

And I wasn’t going to let anyone else die for it.