Chapter 3

Ava POV:

The biting wind whipped around the entrance of the law firm, stinging my exposed skin.

Security had marched me out five minutes ago.

My box of personal effects-a pitiful cardboard tomb for a seven-year career-sat on the curb next to me.

"Disbarred," the senior partner had said, refusing to meet my gaze. "Pending investigation into the fraud allegations."

Liam moved fast.

He had leaked the confession I signed less than an hour ago.

In the court of public opinion, I was already the villain.

I reached into the box and pulled out a stack of research notes.

To the untrained eye, they looked like standard case studies.

To me, they were my insurance policy.

Hidden ledgers.

Routing numbers.

The financial DNA of the Valenti crime family.

"There she is!"

The scream came from the left.

I turned just as something wet and heavy struck my shoulder. A rotten tomato exploded against my white blouse, splattering red pulp across the silk.

A crowd had gathered.

Not paparazzi.

Civilians.

People who had lost their homes, their pensions, and their livelihoods to the Valenti loan-sharking schemes.

Schemes that were now publicly attributed to me.

"Thief!"

"Whore!"

"Give me back my money!"

The mob surged forward like a tidal wave.

I stumbled back, my heel catching on the curb.

My ankle twisted with a sickening pop.

I fell hard onto the asphalt, the research notes scattering across the grime of the street.

"No," I gasped, scrambling to gather them.

A heavy boot slammed down on my hand.

I looked up.

A man with a desperate, angry face glared down at me.

"You ruined my life," he spat.

I didn't argue.

I couldn't tell him that the man who actually ruined his life was standing twenty floors up, watching us like a god in his tower.

I looked up at the glass balcony of the firm.

Liam was there.

He was leaning against the railing, a tumbler of scotch in his hand.

Chloe was beside him, feigning shock, her hand pressed theatrically over her mouth.

Liam pointed down at me.

He was showing me my place.

In the dirt.

Beneath his boot.

The crowd surged again, shoving me.

My head hit the pavement hard.

Stars burst behind my eyes, syncing with the throbbing pain radiating from my ankle.

But then, I heard it.

My phone dinged.

One single, clear tone cutting through the shouting.

I scrambled for it, curling my body to shield the screen from the angry mob.

Package delivered. Mother is in London. Safe.

Ethan.

A laugh bubbled up in my throat.

It sounded jagged, broken-a sound barely human.

The man stepping on my hand pulled back, looking unsettled by my reaction.

"She's crazy," someone whispered.

I laughed harder.

I wasn't crazy.

I was untethered.

I pushed myself up, ignoring the screaming agony in my ankle.

I grabbed the scattered papers, shoving them into my blouse, pressing them against my skin like armor.

"Get away from me!" I screamed at the crowd.

The ferocity in my voice made them recoil.

I limped away.

One step. Two steps.

Dragging my injured leg behind me.

I didn't go to my apartment. Liam would have guards waiting.

I hailed a cab, practically throwing myself into the back seat.

"Hospital," I gasped. "St. Jude's."

I needed to make one final stop before the airport.

I needed visual confirmation that the extraction was clean.

I texted Nex.

Burn it down.

The reply was instantaneous.

Initializing.

The cab screeched up to the hospital entrance.

I threw a wad of cash at the driver and stumbled out.

I needed to see the empty room.

I needed to see the ghost of where she used to be.

I hobbled through the sliding doors.

And ran straight into a wall of muscle.

A hand clamped around my upper arm like a vice.

"Going somewhere, cara?"

The voice was smooth, dark, and terrifyingly familiar.

I looked up.

Liam.

He wasn't smiling anymore.

His eyes were scanning the lobby, paranoid and predatory.

"I'm visiting my mother," I lied, my voice steady despite the fire in my leg.

"Are you?" Liam asked.

He squeezed my arm harder, his fingers digging into my bruise.

"Let's go see her then."

He dragged me toward the elevators.

He didn't know.

Not yet.

But he was about to find out that his bird had flown the cage.