The next morning, the rain came. Not the soft drizzle that washed the city clean, but a pounding, relentless storm that rattled the windows of the penthouse and mirrored the chaos brewing inside its walls.
Ann stood at the edge of their massive living room, her arms wrapped tightly around herself as she stared out at the gray sky. Her reflection in the glass looked small, almost fragile — but beneath the surface, she felt anything but weak.
Behind her, Ethan's voice cut through the silence like a blade.
"You shouldn't have gone to him."
Ann didn't turn around. She had lost count of how many times he'd said it since last night. It was almost like he was trying to convince himself more than her.
"And you shouldn't have lied to me," she said softly, her breath fogging up the cold glass.
She heard him exhale — a tired, frustrated sound that would have once made her shrink away, apologize, promise not to meddle again. But not now. Now she knew that loving a man like Ethan Knight meant standing her ground, even when it hurt. Especially when it hurt.
His footsteps padded across the marble floor until she felt the warmth of him at her back. He didn't touch her — he just stood there, close enough that she could feel the heat radiating off him, but far enough that the gulf between them felt like a canyon.
"He's going to use you now," Ethan said, his voice low, rough with exhaustion. "You handed him a weapon the second you showed him what you're willing to risk."
Ann turned then, slowly, her eyes searching his. "No. I showed him what you're willing to lose."
Their gazes clashed — her defiance against his fear. Ethan's eyes were bloodshot from lack of sleep, dark stubble shadowing his sharp jaw. He looked every bit the deadly king the world feared — but to Ann, he looked like a man trying desperately to hold the pieces of his soul together with shaking hands.
"You don't understand what he's capable of," Ethan said, raking a hand through his hair. "He doesn't care about leverage or money. He wants to watch me break. He wants to rip out everything that makes me human."
Ann's throat tightened. She stepped forward, bridging that canyon inch by inch until her hands rested on his chest. She could feel his heart, hard and fast under her palms.
"He can't break you if I don't let him," she whispered.
Ethan let out a harsh laugh that held no humor. "You think you can protect me, Ann?"
She lifted her chin. "Not protect. Fight. There's a difference."
He grabbed her wrists then, his grip firm but careful, as if he feared he might crush her if he squeezed too tight. His eyes searched hers — desperate, angry, terrified all at once.
"If you stay in this, there will be no line. No mercy. You will see things — I will do things — that you can't come back from."
Ann's heart thudded painfully. But she didn't flinch. She pressed her forehead to his.
"Then we'll carry it together. If you want me to leave — if you really want that — you have to say it. You have to mean it. Right now."
Silence. The storm raged on outside, thunder cracking so loud it rattled the windows in their frames.
Ethan's eyes closed. He didn't say it. He couldn't.
That night, Ann lay awake beside him while he slept fitfully, his arm heavy over her waist like an unspoken promise he didn't know how to keep.
When his breathing finally settled, she slipped out of bed, padding barefoot to the study. She closed the door softly behind her, her pulse pounding.
The rain battered the floor-to-ceiling windows, but the city lights still burned through the darkness. Ann stood in front of Ethan's massive mahogany desk — the one place she'd always been warned to leave alone. But tonight, the line was gone.
She pulled open the top drawer — the same one where she'd found the first letter. Inside, neat rows of files and USB drives stared back at her. She reached for the thickest folder, the one marked only with a single letter: J.
She flipped it open. Photos. Receipts. Old reports. A single newspaper clipping that made her breath catch — a black-and-white photo of a man who looked so much like Ethan that for a heartbeat she thought it was him. Younger. Harsher. Standing in front of a burning building with an unreadable expression.
Her fingers shook as she scanned the notes Ethan had scrawled in the margins — threats, payoffs, men who had vanished. This wasn't just a family feud. This was a war that had been burning for decades, hidden behind boardrooms and polished smiles.
Suddenly, the study door creaked. Ann spun around, the folder clutched to her chest. Ethan stood there in the doorway — no shirt, shadows cutting sharp lines across the muscles of his chest and arms. His eyes fell to the folder in her hands.
He didn't shout. He didn't move. He just stared at her like she'd just cracked open his ribs to see the monster inside.
"You promised," he said softly — and that was so much worse than if he'd roared.
Ann swallowed, her voice trembling but steady. "I did. And I meant it. I won't lie to you, Ethan. Not when you won't lie to me."
He crossed the room in two strides. His hand closed over hers, pulling the folder gently but firmly from her grasp. He dropped it on the desk, then cupped her face in both hands, his thumb brushing away a tear she hadn't realized had fallen.
"You want the truth?" he whispered, his forehead pressed to hers, his breath warm and harsh. "Fine. The truth is I'm going to kill him, Ann. And when I do — it won't just be for me. It'll be for you. For us. For every piece of me he tried to destroy."
Ann's breath caught. She could feel the monster he tried so hard to bury coiled behind his ribs, straining to get out.
"Then let me stand beside you when you do," she breathed.
A broken laugh escaped him — half relief, half heartbreak. He kissed her then — hard, desperate, as if he was trying to memorize her mouth before the darkness swallowed him whole.
Three days later, they sat side by side in the back of a black SUV as it sped through the city at dawn. Ann's hand rested on Ethan's thigh, her nails digging in every time the car hit a pothole.
Neither of them spoke. Words were useless now. Plans had been whispered through the night — names, addresses, escape routes if it went wrong.
Victor Hale had summoned Ethan to a private meeting. Alone, of course. But Ethan wasn't coming alone. He never would again.
When the car stopped, Ethan turned to her. The faint light of the rising sun cast gold over his sharp features, softening the ruthless line of his mouth.
"This is your last chance to walk away," he said quietly.
Ann curled her fingers into his. "You already know my answer."
He stared at her for a heartbeat — then pulled her in, his lips sealing over hers in a kiss that tasted like a promise and a goodbye all at once.
"Stay behind me," he murmured against her mouth. "If anything goes wrong — you run."
Ann pulled back, meeting his eyes with steel. "If anything goes wrong, we run together. Or not at all."
A muscle ticked in his jaw. He didn't argue. He knew it was pointless.
Outside the window, the storm had cleared. But inside the car — inside their veins — the storm was just beginning.