Chapter 113 One hundred and twelve
ARA
We were all shocked. Two of Thayne’s escorts burst into the living room, their guns already half-drawn.
Their eyes widened when they saw me still holding the smoking pistol in both hands, the barrel pointed at the shattered coffee table where the bullet had punched through the glass.
Ursula was on the floor. She’d dropped the moment I fired, not out of instinct but injury. The shot had missed her by inches, splintering the wood instead of flesh, but the shock had knocked her backward.
She sat there now, her palms flat on the floor. Her chest was rising and falling fast, her hair falling into her face.
Her white coat was askew, and there was a look of terror on her first when Thayne moved first. I knew she feared him, but I'd never really seen her show it like this.
He crossed the room in three long strides, towering over her. One hand shot out, grabbing the front of her coat and hauling her up until her feet barely skimmed the floor.
His other hand pressed the muzzle of his own gun under her chin, tilting her head back so she had to look at him.
“Who sent you?” His voice was low, calm in the way a blade is calm right before it cuts.
Ursula’s lips curved into a slow, bitter, smile.
She was pretending to be unafraid.
“You’re so full of yourself,” she said, her voice steady despite the gun at her throat. “Thinking you’re the inheritor of the family legacy. Father sent me to finish you off and deliver her—” her eyes flicked to me “—to him.”
Thayne’s grip tightened on her coat, and she wheezed.
“Surprise, surprise,” I said from behind him, my voice steadier than I felt. “I turned up with a gun.”
Ursula’s gaze slid to me. She smiled, almost impressed.
“You actually pulled the trigger,” she said. “I didn’t think you had it in you.”
Thayne shoved her back against the wall, hard enough that her head thudded against the plaster.
She winced but didn’t cry out.
“You’re not leaving this room alive unless you start talking,” he said. “Who else is coming? How many? What’s the play?”
Ursula laughed, a short, breathless sound.
“You think this is about numbers?” She licked her bottom lip. “This is about timing. Father knows you’re alive. He knows you’re back in New York. And he knows you’re wounded.” Her eyes dropped to the fresh blood now seeping through Thayne’s shirt.
“You’re bleeding out slower than you think. That poison isn’t done with you yet. I was the one who prepared it and soaked the knives in it.”
Thayne’s face didn’t change, but I saw the flicker in his eyes, the quick calculation of pain against time.
So it hadn't even been one knife. Now I wished I'd shot her in her leg.
Thayne pressed the gun harder under her chin.
“Last chance.”
Ursula met his stare without flinching.
“You kill me,” she said softly, “and you’ll never know how many are already inside the building. Or what our father has planned for Sasha.”
I stepped forward before I could think.
“Do you think we are afraid of threats now? Look your brother in the eye and tell me what you see. He's done nothing to you, but you hate him. You're a pathetic little loser.” I'd been wanting to say that for a long, long time.
When I remembered all the mean things she'd said to me in the past, I only wished I'd stood up for myself earlier.
Ursula’s smile faltered.
“Start talking now, Ursula. Or I won't be responsible for what happens after now.” Thayne growled.
“Sasha is safe for now. For now. Father has set an ultimatum after which he'll dispose her if you refuse to give in to his demands.” She laughed at the end, as if it was a funny joke.
Thayne’s finger tightened on the trigger. I put my hand on his arm.
“Thayne.”
He didn’t lower the gun, but he looked at me.
“We need her alive,” I said quietly.
His jaw worked. For a long second I thought he might pull the trigger anyway.
Then he exhaled audibly and stepped back, letting Ursula slump against the wall.
“Zip-tie her,” he told his men. “And gag her. I want her kept in my meeting room.No one talks to her until I say.”
They moved fast, the cuffs clicking around her wrists, a black cloth tied over her mouth before she could even take her next breath.
She didn’t fight. She just watched me with those cold blue eyes, like she knew something I didn’t.
When they dragged her away, Thayne turned to me.
He reached out and cupped my face with both hands, his thumbs brushing my cheekbones.
“You okay?” he asked again, softer this time.
I nodded. But I wasn’t. Not really, not when it felt like this would never end.
Thayne finally called a doctor in to treat his wound while I rested in the bedroom. I was exhausted to my bones, every muscle heavy and aching, like my body belonged to someone else entirely.
The sheets were cool against my skin, but I couldn’t stop shivering, not from cold, but from the kind of tired that settles deep and refuses to leave.
I heard muffled voices in the hallway, Thayne’s low, clipped instructions, the doctor’s calm responses, the soft clink of medical tools.
I stared at the ceiling, my hand resting on the gentle swell of my belly, feeling the twins shift lazily. They were the only thing keeping me grounded.
The door opened quietly, and Thayne stepped inside, closing it behind him with a soft click.
He’d showered, but the bandage on his back was visible through the thin fabric, already spotting faintly red again.
He looked worn, shadows under his eyes, but his gaze softened the second it landed on me.
He crossed to the bed and sat on the edge, careful not to jostle me too much. One hand found mine; the other rested lightly over my stomach.
“How are you feeling?” he asked for the tenth time since we arrived.
“Like I could sleep for a week,” I admitted. “But I can’t stop thinking.”
He squeezed my hand. “About?”
I sat up slowly, ignoring the protest of my muscles.
“The tracker.”
He frowned slightly, waiting.
“Back in Paris, Celia pinned that thing to the photo. She wanted them to know exactly where we were.” I met his eyes. “Why haven’t we done the same to our fathers?”
Thayne’s expression shifted, surprise, then consideration, then the slow dawn of something darker and sharper.
“Play them at their own game,” he said quietly.
I nodded. “Spy on them. Listen in. Find out what they’re planning before they make their next move. We’ve been reacting for months. It’s time we got ahead.”
He was silent for a long moment, his thumb brushing slow circles over my knuckles.
“It’s risky,” he said finally. “If they find one, they’ll know we’re watching. They’ll change everything, codes, locations, plans. We’d lose the advantage.”
“But if they don’t find it…” I leaned forward. “We’ll hear everything and learn their weaknesses. We could end this without another shootout. Without more blood.”
Thayne studied me, something like pride flickering in his eyes. “You’ve been thinking about this.”
“I’ve had a lot of time alone,” I said softly. “And I’m tired of being the one who gets taken. I want to be the one who strikes first.”
He exhaled through his nose, then leaned in and pressed his forehead to mine.
“We'll do it.” He said finally.
We were taking this step by step. Soon, our greatest enemies would be old news and we could live our lives like a normal couple.
We had Ursula under hostage. This time, we wouldn't be fighting with empty hands.