Chapter 254

Chapter 254
Stella's POV

I turned away from Victor's body and knelt beside Daniel's corpse. Rain hammered down, washing blood across the concrete in thin, dark streams. I pulled a handkerchief from my pocket and wiped down the Glock methodically, erasing every trace of my fingerprints from the grip, the trigger guard, the magazine release. Then I pressed Daniel's dead fingers around the weapon, arranging them to suggest he'd been holding it when he died. I did the same with Victor's backup pistol—a compact SIG Sauer from his shoulder holster—placing it in Victor's cooling hand and adjusting the angle to make it look like the two men had turned on each other.

Ryder watched me from a few feet away, his face pale, his injured arm hanging at his side. Blood still seeped through the makeshift bandage, but he didn't seem to notice. His amber eyes were fixed on me as I moved with clinical precision.

"What are you doing?" he asked, his voice rough.

"Creating a narrative," I said. I moved to Victor's body, checking the position of the SIG Sauer, making sure the angle matched the bullet wound in Daniel's chest. "When the police arrive, they'll find two dead men who killed each other. A failed arms deal that turned into a shootout. You and I were just caught in the crossfire."

"But that's not what happened."

I looked up at him and let him see past the mask I'd been wearing for months—the killer, the liar, the girl who'd been playing him from the start. "Does it matter?" I asked quietly. "Victor and Daniel are dead. The Mellon family is finished. Isn't that what you wanted?"

"I wanted you safe," he said, his voice cracking. "Not... this. Not you standing over bodies like you've done this a hundred times before."

I stood and walked over to him. Rain streamed down both our faces, mixing with the blood on his arm. "I'm sorry," I said, and I meant it. "I never wanted to hurt you."

"But you did." He looked at me like I was a stranger. "You used me. You used all of us—me, Christian, Adrian. We were just pieces in your game, weren't we?"

"Yes."

He closed his eyes, and I saw the exact moment his heart broke. "Was any of it real?" he asked. "The apartment. The dinners. The way you looked at me—was it all just part of the plan?"

I wanted to lie, to tell him it had all been real, that I'd fallen in love with him somewhere along the way. But I'd already taken too much from him. I wouldn't take his right to hate me too.

"I don't know," I said honestly. "I don't know who I am anymore, Ryder. I don't know where the act ends and where I begin."

In the distance, sirens wailed through the rain. Ryder's men had called the police through Ghost's encrypted channel. In five minutes, this place would be swarming with cops.

I looked down at the scene I'd created—Daniel and Victor lying in pools of blood, their weapons in their hands, the angles suggesting mutual violence. It wasn't perfect, but it would hold up under initial scrutiny.

"When they get here," I said, "you tell them you came to stop an illegal arms deal. You tried to intervene, and they started shooting. One of them hit you, and in the chaos, they turned on each other. I followed you here because I was worried. We both barely made it out alive."

"And the evidence?"

"Ghost is already scrubbing the digital trail. They'll find communications between Daniel and Victor about the deal, financial records showing Victor's desperation, edited security footage. Everything will support our story."

Ryder stared at me, his eyes searching my face like he was trying to memorize it. Then he nodded slowly. "Okay."

The police arrived in a flood of red and blue lights. I stood in the rain with my hands up, playing the terrified girlfriend one last time. I cried on cue, letting the tears mix with rain. I stammered through my statement to the first officer, my voice shaking just enough to be believable. They wrapped me in a blanket and guided me to a squad car, where I watched them zip Victor and Daniel into body bags and mark the scene with yellow tape.

Ryder was in another car, giving his statement. I knew he'd stick to the script. He always did.

The detective assigned to the case—a middle-aged woman with sharp eyes—grilled me for hours, asking the same questions in different ways, trying to catch me in a lie. But I'd been trained for this, had spent years learning how to maintain a cover story under pressure.

When she finally let me go, the sun was rising, painting the rain-soaked city in shades of gold and gray. I stood outside the police station, my clothes still damp, my hair plastered to my face. Ryder was waiting by his car, his injured arm in a proper sling now.

When he saw me, he straightened but didn't smile. There was something cold and final in his eyes.

"Where are you going now?" he asked.

"Vancouver," I said. "There's someone there I need to find. A witness to my grandmother's case—a man named River who worked at her research facility. He might have answers about what really happened that night."

"And after that?" His voice cracked. "After you find him and get your answers—will you come back?"

I wanted to say yes, to promise him that once this was over, I'd be the girl he'd fallen in love with again. But I didn't know if that girl had ever existed.

"I don't know," I said.

He nodded, his jaw tight. "Then I guess this is goodbye."

"Ryder—"

"Don't." He held up his good hand. "Just... don't. Don't apologize again. Don't try to explain. Don't make this harder than it already is."

He got in his car and drove away, leaving me standing in the pale morning light, watching his taillights disappear. The rain had stopped, but I was still soaking wet, shivering despite the rising sun.

I pulled out my phone and opened Ghost's encrypted message. River's last known location was a cabin outside Vancouver, off the grid, accessible only by an unmaintained logging road. If I left now, I could be there by nightfall.

I started walking toward my car, boots splashing through puddles that reflected the sky. Behind me, the city was waking up—commuters, coffee shops opening, the world continuing as if nothing had changed. Victor Mellon was dead. Daniel Miller was dead. The Mellon empire was crumbling.

But my grandmother's ghost still haunted me, and I wouldn't rest until I knew the truth about what had happened to her.

I climbed into my car, started the engine, and pulled out of the parking lot, heading north toward the interstate. In my rearview mirror, I watched the city shrink behind me until it was nothing more than a smudge of gray against the horizon.

I was leaving Seattle behind. Leaving Ryder behind. Leaving everything I'd built and everyone I'd used and all the lies I'd told.

But I was taking my ghosts with me. And I wouldn't stop until every last one of them was laid to rest.