Chapter 31: The Choice (Nate POV)

The video cut to black, and my heart stopped. I sat there, staring at Talia's old laptop, my hands frozen on the keys. Harper's face, caught in the server room, stealing files, deleting logs, had just vanished, like she'd reached through the screen and shut it down herself. Then a ping, sharp, loud, snapped me out of it. A text box popped up, white letters glowing: "This is your chance. Do not waste it." No name, no number, just those words, cold and final.

I blinked, my breath fast, my hands shaking. Chance? What chance? The video, her undoing, was still on the flash drive in my pocket, heavy against my leg. Proof she'd framed me, set me up, laughed about it in that cell. But this message, who sent it? My mind raced, Zoe? She hadn't answered my call. Talia? Her number was dead, gone off-grid. Someone else, then, an ally I didn't know, watching me, pushing me. My chest tightened, hope flickering but scared too.

I stood up, the couch creaking under me, my legs shaky. The apartment was dark, quiet, just the hum of the laptop and my own breathing. I paced to the window, peeking through the blinds, street empty, shadows still. That video could end this, clear my name, take Harper down, but I was alone. Talia was missing, Zoe silent, and Liam, my stomach twisted, Liam was a ghost. He'd sold me out, stood on TV and said I'd done it alone. But I couldn't shake him from my head.

I stopped, my hands in my hair, Harper's voice echoing: "Liam made his choice. You should start making yours." She'd whispered it in that holding cell, her smirk sharp, like she knew she'd won. She'd meant it to hurt, digging at the hole Liam left when he walked away. He'd picked her, Graham, ZenithTech over me, blocked me, left me to the feds. But that text, "This is your chance," it felt like a shove, like someone believed I could fight back. And Liam, he was the only one left who might listen.

My hands shook as I grabbed the burner phone from the table, flipping it open. His number was still there, saved from before everything fell apart. I stared at it, my thumb hovering. He'd hurt me, bad, testifying, lying, cutting me off. But I'd seen his face that day, outside the apartment, watching them take me. Pale, shaky, like he was breaking too. What if he didn't want this? What if Graham pushed him, scared him? My chest hurt, thinking of him, those late nights, his quiet laugh, the way he'd looked at me once, soft and real. I'd loved him, still did, even now.

I swallowed, my throat tight. Harper wanted me to give up, to choose defeat. But that video, it was power, a way out. And Liam, he knew ZenithTech, knew Harper, knew me. If I showed him, maybe he'd see the truth. Maybe he'd help. Or maybe he'd run straight to her, finish me off. My hands shook harder, my breath short. Risking it, reaching out, felt like jumping off a cliff. But I was out of moves, out of people. He was all I had left.

I paced again, the floor cold under my feet. What if he didn't answer? What if he laughed, hung up? My mind spun, picturing his voice, calm, steady, like always, or cold, like on TV. I stopped by the desk, my eyes on the phone. "This is your chance. Do not waste it." Someone out there thought I could do this, thought I was worth it. And Liam, he'd been my chance once, my everything, before it all went wrong. I couldn't do this alone, not anymore.

I sat back down, my hands sweaty, the phone heavy. Harper's words fought the text in my head, choice, chance, Liam. My heart pounded, loud in the quiet. I had to try. If he turned on me again, I'd deal with it, fall apart later. But if he didn't, if he listened, I could win. We could win. My thumb moved, slow, typing out the words: "I need to see you. Now." Simple, raw, no going back.

I stared at it, my chest tight, my finger over send. What if he didn't care? What if he was done? I closed my eyes, picturing his face, not the TV Liam, but mine, the one who'd smiled at me over coffee, who'd stayed when I needed him. I hit send, my breath stopping, the message gone into the dark.

I waited, my hands clenched, the room too still. Seconds dragged, each one heavy. He wouldn't answer, he hated me, he'd moved on. My eyes burned, my hope slipping. Then it buzzed, sharp, loud, cutting through. I grabbed it, my hands fumbling, the screen lighting up. One word: "Where?"

My heart jumped, my breath catching. He'd answered, fast, like he'd been waiting. Liam.