Chapter 41 PRIVATE THREATS

Chapter 41 PRIVATE THREATS


RONAN POV

The silence after my mother’s threat is suffocating.

She stands inches away from me, unflinching, perfectly composed as if she didn’t just imply that the woman I love could disappear simply because she exists. The fluorescent chandelier lights above us hum softly, mocking the storm boiling in my chest.

“Get out,” I say quietly.

My mother arches her brow, annoying me further. “Lower your voice, Ronan. The neighbors might hear.”

“I don’t care,” I snap. “Leave. Now.”

She studies me for a long moment, her gaze cool and dissecting, as if she’s deciding whether I’m still her son or just another obstacle to eliminate. Slowly, she smooths an invisible crease in her sleeve.

“You’ve changed,” she says softly. “You used to be smarter.”

I laugh, sharp and bitter. “You mean quieter. Easier to control.”

Her lips curve faintly. “I mean loyal.”

“Loyalty built on lies isn’t loyalty,” I fire back. “It’s captivity.”

She sighs, as though I’m exhausting her. “You always did dramatize things.”

“Threatening Annabelle isn’t drama,” I growl. “It’s crossing a line you won’t walk back from.”

“Threatening?” she repeats, tilting her head. “Oh, Ronan. I merely stated a fact. Weaknesses attract consequences. That’s how the world works.”

“No,” I say, stepping closer, my voice low and lethal. “That’s how you work.”

Something flickers in her eyes. Fear, anger, perhaps. Or pride. It’s hard to tell with her.

“You think I’m the villain here,” she says calmly. “But you’re naive if you think that girl is as harmless as she pretends to be.”

“She is harmless,” I snap. “She didn’t ask for any of this. You dragged her into your mess.”

Victoria’s expression hardens. “She dragged herself into my family.”

I shake my head slowly. “This ends now.”

Her laugh is soft. Dangerous. “You don’t get to decide when things end, Ronan. Not when you’re still playing catch-up.”

She turns toward the door, heels clicking sharply against the marble floor.

“This is your final warning,” she adds over her shoulder. “Call off the lawyers. Convince her to disappear quietly. Or I won’t be responsible for what happens next.”

The door closes behind her with a gentle click.

I stand there long after she’s gone, my hands clenched into fists so tight my knuckles ache. Rage pulses through me, hot and unrelenting, but beneath it lies something colder.

Fear.

Because I know my mother.

And she never makes empty threats.

I don’t waste a second.

The moment she’s gone, I grab my phone and dial Annabelle again. It rings once. Twice. Three times.

No answer.

My heart slams against my ribs.

I try again. Straight to voicemail.

“Annabelle,” I say sharply when it picks up. “It’s me. Call me back immediately.”

I pace the length of the living room, every instinct screaming. I replay Victoria’s words in my head, dissecting them like clues at a crime scene.

Weaknesses get eliminated.

My phone buzzes in my hand.

A message from an unknown number. 

She should have listened. 

My blood runs cold.

I dial Marcus immediately.

“Where are you?” I demand the moment he answers.

“Still five minutes away,” he replies. “What’s wrong?”

“My mother was just here.”

A pause. Then, “Shit. Why?”

“She threatened Annabelle,” I continue, my voice tight. “And now I can’t reach her.”

“I’m coming faster,” Marcus says. “Call security. Now.”

I hang up and do exactly that, barking orders as I grab my jacket and keys. My mind races as I rush out the door.

Victoria wouldn’t be stupid enough to touch Annabelle directly. Not yet. Not with the court watching.

But intimidation?

Psychological warfare?

That’s something I’m sure she would do.

By the time I reach Annabelle’s apartment building, my chest feels like it’s going to cave in. I spot a patrol car parked outside, lights off but engine running.

My stomach drops.

I slam my car into park and rush toward the entrance just as two uniformed officers step out.

“Ronan Blackthorne,” one of them says, recognizing me instantly. “We’re conducting a wellness check.”

“A what?” I snap.

“We received an anonymous report,” the officer continues calmly, “expressing concern for the resident’s mental state.”

I see red.

“Who reported it?” I demand.

“That information is confidential.”

Of course it is.

I push past them and take the stairs two at a time. When I reach Annabelle’s door, it’s already open.

She’s sitting on the couch, wrapped in a blanket, her face pale, eyes wide and exhausted. Sofia stands beside her, arms crossed protectively, fury written all over her face.

Annabelle looks up when she sees me.

“Ronan,” she whispers, her voice breaking.

I cross the room in three strides and pull her into my arms. She clings to me like she’s afraid I’ll vanish.

“They said someone reported that I was unstable,” she murmurs into my chest. “That I was a danger to myself.”

My jaw clenches so hard it aches.

“I knew it,” Sofia snaps. “I told them it was bullshit. They searched the place anyway.”

I pull back slightly, cupping Annabelle’s face in my hands, scanning her for any sign of harm. She’s shaking, but she’s whole.

“I’m here,” I say softly. “You’re safe.”

But even as I say it, I know it’s a lie.

The officers clear their throats awkwardly, clearly aware they’ve been used.

“We didn’t find anything concerning,” one of them says. “We’ll file it accordingly.”

“You do that,” I reply coldly. “And next time you get an anonymous call about this address, I suggest you verify the source very carefully.”

They exchange glances but say nothing before leaving.

The moment the door closes, Annabelle breaks down.

“She’s trying to scare me,” she sobs. “She wants me to disappear.”

I hold her tighter, fury simmering beneath my calm exterior.

“She won’t win,” I promise, though my voice trembles slightly. “I won’t let her.”

Sofia watches us quietly, her eyes sharp.

“This is only going to get worse,” she says bluntly. “You know that, right?”

I nod. “I do.”

“And you’re still going through with this?”

“Yes.”

She exhales slowly. “Then she needs protection. Real protection.”

“I know,” I say.

My phone buzzes again.

Another message.

Unknown Number

Round 1

I stare at the screen, my grip tightening around the phone.

“She’s escalating,” Marcus says from the doorway. He must’ve arrived while we were distracted. His face is grim. “And she’s doing it clean. Legal. Plausible.”

“Not for long,” I mutter.

Annabelle pulls back slightly, looking up at me with tear-filled eyes.

“I don’t want to be a weakness,” she says softly. “I don’t want you to lose everything because of me.”

“You’re not a weakness,” I say firmly. “You’re the reason I won’t back down.”

Her breath catches.

I turn to Marcus. “We need to move faster.”

He nods. “And smarter.”

“And quieter,” Sofia adds.

I glance at Annabelle, at the fear still lingering in her eyes, and something hardens inside me.

Victoria wants a shadow war?

Fine.

But I won’t play defense anymore.

I pull out my phone and scroll to a contact I haven’t called yet.

Alec Blackthorne.

I hesitate only a second before pressing call.

If my mother wants to fight dirty,

Then so will I.

And this time, she won’t see it coming.