Chapter 188

Chapter 188
Serena

Ryan emerged from behind a concrete pillar, his silhouette dark against the dim parking lot lights. My blood turned to ice. He'd been waiting for me.

"Just picking up Henry from his playdate," I lied smoothly, keeping my voice steady despite the fear clutching at my throat. "He's at the Andersons' until eight."

Ryan's laugh was hollow as he stepped forward into the light. His eyes were alarmingly clear now, the earlier intoxication seemingly burned away by rage. He held up his phone, the screen illuminated.

"Fascinating," he said, his voice unnaturally calm. "Because I just found these text messages between you and Harper Sinclair." He read aloud in a mocking tone: "'Evidence secured. Meeting location compromised. New rendezvous: The Edison.' What evidence might that be, Serena?"

My mind raced. How had he accessed my messages? Then I remembered—I'd used his fingerprint to unlock my phone once when my hands were full. He must have added his own access while I wasn't looking.

"You hacked my phone," I said, stalling for time as I calculated the distance to my car, to the security guard's station, to anywhere I might find help.

"You're working with Harper Sinclair against my father," he countered, taking another step toward me. "Against me."

I backed away, fumbling in my purse for my car keys. My fingers closed around the jagged metal, and I gripped them between my knuckles—a makeshift weapon. "Ryan, you're not thinking clearly," I said, injecting as much authority into my voice as possible. "Your father has been manipulating both of us. He's dangerous—you know that better than anyone."

"You know what I hate most in this world?" Ryan advanced, ignoring my words entirely. His voice was eerily conversational now. "Being used as a pawn. By my father. By you. By everyone who sees 'Blake' on my business card and only values me for my last name."

I lunged to the side, trying to circle around him to my car, but he anticipated the move, blocking my path with surprising agility. I swung my keys at his face, the sharp edges barely missing his eye. Ryan caught my wrist with bruising force, twisting until the keys clattered to the ground.

"That wasn't very nice," he hissed, his facade of calm cracking. "I expected better from you, Serena. Always so controlled, so calculating."

With my free hand, I activated the emergency recording app on my phone—a precaution Harper had insisted upon. I struggled against his grip, feeling the bones in my wrist grind together painfully.

"Let go of me," I demanded, pulling myself up to my full height. "This is insane, Ryan." I stomped down hard on his instep, and he released me with a grunt of pain.

I scrambled backward, putting the hood of my car between us. "Ryan, stop this right now. Security cameras are recording everything."

"No, what's insane is that I ever trusted you." He stalked around the car, his movements like a predator toying with wounded prey. "What's insane is that I actually loved you."

The raw pain in his voice momentarily caught me off guard. For a fleeting second, I saw the charming, vulnerable man I'd first met—before Blake's influence had twisted him, before ambition had corrupted us both.

"Ryan, listen to me," I said, softening my tone, still keeping the car between us. "Your father killed Wyatt Sinclair. He tried to kill Rowan. He's using Henry—my son—as a pawn in his games. Help me stop him, and I swear I'll make sure you're protected."

Uncertainty flickered in his eyes for a heartbeat. Then his face hardened again. "My father's sins are his own. But yours? Yours are against me." He tilted his head slightly. "Tell me, was any of it real? Did you ever actually care for me at all?"

The naked vulnerability in the question made my throat tighten. Despite everything, there was still a damaged boy inside the man, desperate for validation.

"Yes," I answered honestly. "In the beginning, before your father intervened. Before I knew what kind of man he really was."

Ryan's expression softened fractionally. "Then why? Why betray me like this?"

"For Henry," I said simply. "To give him a future free from Blake's manipulation. Free from the kind of pain your father inflicted on you."

Something in Ryan's eyes changed—a flicker of understanding, perhaps even sympathy. For a moment, I thought I'd reached him. I took a tentative step forward, hand outstretched.

"We can stop him together, Ryan. You don't have to be what he made you."

He hesitated, and in that heartbeat of indecision, I lunged for my fallen keys. My fingers had just closed around them when Ryan's polished oxford came down on my hand. I screamed in pain as he ground his heel against my knuckles.

“Bitch, you think I’d still fall for your bullshit?” He dragged me over to the concrete pillar, pinning me beneath his weight.

I fought like a cornered animal, scratching at his face, kneeing toward his groin. My nails drew blood from his cheek, and he recoiled momentarily. For one wild second, I thought I might escape. I pushed away from the pillar, stumbling toward my car.

Three steps. That's all I managed before he caught me from behind, spinning me around.

The glint of metal caught my eye too late. Pain exploded in my abdomen as Ryan drove the blade forward with surprising strength.

"This is for betrayers," he whispered, his eyes locked on mine.