Chapter 278
Lance
Her jaw worked like she wanted to argue. Like she wanted to demand I take her with me, or call this whole thing off, or do literally anything other than what I was asking.
Instead, she nodded. Once. Sharp.
"And Wesley?" Her voice had gone quiet. "You're bringing him back too?"
"That's the plan."
Vincent cleared his throat. "Approaching the rendezvous point."
I could see the black SUV idling in the alley ahead, exactly where I'd told them to wait. My pulse kicked up another notch—this was it. The moment where everything either came together or fell completely apart.
I pulled alongside them and killed the engine. Turned in my seat to face Serena properly.
She looked terrified. And furious. And so goddamn beautiful it made my chest ache.
"The men in that vehicle are former Navy SEALs." I kept my voice steady through sheer force of will. "Best private security money can buy. They'll keep you safe."
"I don't give a shit about me being safe." Her voice cracked. "I care about you being safe. About you coming back in one piece instead of—"
I kissed her. Hard and desperate and probably completely inappropriate given that Vincent was right there and we had approximately ninety seconds before Thomas's people caught up with the tracker.
She made a sound against my mouth—surprise giving way to something fiercer. Her hands found my face, holding me there like she could keep me from leaving through sheer force of will.
When I pulled back, we were both breathing hard.
"I love you." The words came out raw. "And I'm coming back to you. I promise."
Before she could respond, I was out of the car. Two men built like brick walls slid into the back seat on either side of her, their presence immediately transforming the vehicle into a mobile fortress.
"Mr. Lawson." The one on her right gave me a crisp nod. "We'll keep her safe."
"I know you will." I looked at Serena one more time. "Vincent—keep moving. Don't stop for anything. I'll call when it's done."
"Lance—" She reached for me, but I was already backing away, already turning toward the SUV.
"Go!" I called over my shoulder. "They're almost on top of us. Stick to the plan."
I heard the Audi's engine roar to life. Forced myself not to look back as I climbed into the passenger seat of the waiting SUV.
"Drive," I told the operator behind the wheel.
The vehicle surged forward just as my phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out, expecting an update from one of my people.
Instead, I found a message from Wesley.
Goodbye, Lance. Take care of Serena. I'm sorry I couldn't be the nephew you deserved.
The phone creaked in my grip. Every muscle in my body locked up, rage and terror warring for dominance in my chest.
No. No. Not like this. Not when I was this close to—
My fingers moved before my brain caught up, typing out a response.
Hold on. You're not dying today.
I hit send and immediately turned to the driver. "Metropolitan Grace Hospital, Upper East Side. Private wing."
According to the intel I'd bought from three separate sources, that's where Thomas had stashed Felix after the shooting. Room 2113. Top floor.
"And I don't care what's between us and there—traffic lights, other cars, the goddamn National Guard. You get me there in ten minutes or less."
I didn't need to know where Wesley was. I had something better—the one card Thomas couldn't ignore. The only leverage that would make him pull back every gun, every soldier, every resource he'd thrown at my nephew.
"Sir—"
"Now."
The driver's jaw tightened, but he nodded. "Yes, Mr. Lawson."
The man in the passenger seat—Davis, according to his dossier—turned to face me. Held out a compact pistol with a suppressor already attached.
"The weapon you requested, sir." His voice was professionally neutral. "Custom ammunition, high stopping power, minimal noise signature. Efficient for close-quarters work."
I took it. Felt the weight settle into my palm like it belonged there.
"You still planning to go through with it?" Davis asked quietly. "Using this, I mean. On the target."
I thought about Wesley, surrounded by enemies, writing what he thought was his last message. Thought about Thomas, who'd orchestrated this entire nightmare. Thought about Felix, lying in a hospital bed thinking he'd gotten away with murder.
"Oh, I'm more than ready." My voice came out cold. Detached. "In fact, I'm counting on it."
---
We made it to Metropolitan Grace in eight minutes. I didn't ask how many traffic laws we'd broken. Didn't care.
I headed straight for the private wing elevator, Davis and his partner flanking me. Top floor. Room 2113.
The hospital corridor was empty—visiting hours long over, night shift staff spread thin. Perfect.
No guards posted outside Felix's door.
I smiled. It wasn't a pleasant expression.
"Thomas," I murmured, "you really should have left someone to watch your son."