Chapter 30

We don’t have to wait long before a message pings to Killian’s phone. He doesn’t look at it, we know what it is, and I hope that the others have gotten their tasks done already.

When Owen storms into the room, he is so focused on his phone that he doesn”t notice me at first. But when Killian slams the door behind him, that certainly gains his attention.

Spinning toward the door, his eyes widen as he takes in the imposing figure of Killian standing by the door with his arms crossed. ”Killian? What are you--?” he starts to ask, confusion etched on his face.

I can”t resist laughing, the sound echoing ominously in the room. For someone who was the boss of a secret organization, he really should pay better attention to his surroundings. But I also can”t resist laughing because, looking at him now, he is laughable. He still wears one of his power suits, but it looks wrinkled and loose as though he has lost weight. In the last two months, his hair has become grayer and thinner, and his face more lined and weathered. He looks like he has aged twenty years in two months. I revel in the knowledge that I caused that.

His head snaps around, and his eyes lock onto mine. Shock, confusion, and anger flicker across his face in quick succession.

”You,” he spits, his voice trembling.

”Hello, Owen,” I say, my tone dripping with mock sweetness. ”Did you miss me?”

He looks between Killian and me for a moment, and I see the moment it dawns on him. For someone who claimed to be so smart, he really isn’t at all. “Really? She spreads her fucking legs for you and you become a whipped fucking dog for her? If I had known that was all it took, I would have sent her your way years ago.”

The man has a fucking death wish, I swear. Killian snarls and takes a step toward him.

“Killian,” I say, my voice cutting through the tension as I stand up from the chair, taking a step around the desk. “I can handle him. Leave us.”

Killian hesitates, his eyes fixed on Owen with a murderous intent. For a moment, I think he might ignore my command, but then he takes a step back. He opens the door and leaves us, briefly meeting my gaze before closing the door behind him.

Owen turns back to me, his attempt to look tougher and more composed is evident. The facade is paper-thin now, and I can see the fear lurking just beneath the surface. He straightens his suit jacket, trying to regain some semblance of authority.

”You’re not going to win,” he sneers, but his voice wavers.

I laugh again, the sound colder this time. ”I already have,” I reply, taking a slow, deliberate step toward him. ”Look at you, you”re pathetic. You’re a shell of the man you used to be. And it’s all because of me.”

His eyes dart around the room. ”You think you’ve won?” he sneers, trying to muster some of his old bravado. ”This isn’t over. You won’t make it out of here alive, my people will kill you.”

”Your people?” I scoff, shaking my head. ”Look around you, your people are gone, Owen. They either turned on you or they’re dead. You have no one left. You”re alone, Owen. The mighty head of The Order, brought down by a woman you underestimated.”

Owen’s eyes blaze with desperation, and before I can react, he launches himself at me. Despite his weakened state, there”s still a flicker of strength fueled by rage and fear. He slams into me, but he’s slower and clumsier than I remember. I”ve grown stronger, faster, more precise in my movements.

We crash to the ground, and I feel the impact reverberate through my body, but I don”t let it slow me down. Owen’s fists swing wildly, aiming for my face, my ribs, anywhere he can land a blow. I twist and turn, deflecting his attacks with ease, my training with Killian and the others evident in every move.

”You”re done, Owen,” I hiss through gritted teeth, grabbing his wrist and twisting it hard. He cries out in pain, but it doesn”t stop him. His free hand comes at me, and I catch it, pushing him off me with a powerful kick.

He stumbles back, clutching his side where my foot landed. ”You think this is the end? I’ll kill you, you bitch!” he snarls, charging at me again. But this time, I’m ready.

I sidestep his lunge, bringing my elbow down hard on the back of his neck as he passes. He crashes to the floor, gasping for breath.

”Face it, Owen,” I tell him. ”You’re nothing without your power. And now, you don’t even have that.”

His breaths come in ragged gasps, and I can see the realization dawning in his eyes. He knows he’s lost. But desperate men do desperate things.

Owen’s hand shoots to his side, drawing his gun, waving it at me as he laughs. “You know what, when I’m done with you, I’m going to revisit my old family. My ex spat out a kid that should be close to your age now. Maybe I should sample that, train it to be a good little cunt for my men like you should have been,” he spits out.

But I step into him, grabbing his wrist and twisting it hard. At the same time, I draw my knife and stab it up through his right arm. It feels like karma, stabbing him in the same arm he stabbed me. Owen cries out in pain, but instead of going for the knife, he swings his other arm with all the force he can muster, hitting mine. I hear the sickening crack of bone breaking, the sound echoing loudly through the room. The pain is sharp, almost blinding, but instead of crying out, I grit my teeth and try to hold on.

Owen takes advantage of my momentary distraction, bringing his knee up and slamming it into my stomach and chest, pushing me backward with a stumble. I clutch my broken arm to my chest, and Owen grins viciously at me as he pulls the knife from his own arm. Blood covers the blade, and he points it at me, eyes blazing with rage.

”Any last words, little bitch?” he sneers, his voice a twisted mixture of pain and triumph.

I look at him one last time, a cold smile forming on my lips. ”Yeah, I remembered the safety this time, asshole,” I reply, pulling the trigger on the gun I had taken from him when I stabbed him.

The shot rings out, deafening in the enclosed space. Owen”s eyes widen in shock as the bullet hits him square in the chest. He stumbles back, the knife slipping from his grasp as he clutches at the wound. Blood seeps through his fingers, and he looks at me with a mix of disbelief and hatred before collapsing to the floor.

I stand there, breathing heavily, the pain in my arm throbbing with every heartbeat and I watch dispassionately as the life drains out of him. Reaching down, I check to make sure he”s not going to get up again. His eyes are still open, but the life has already started to fade from them. Finally, it’s over.

The door opens and Killian steps back in, taking in the scene with a quick, assessing glance. ”Are you alright?” he asks, his eyes narrowing as he sees me cradling my broken arm.

”I’m fine,” I manage to say, my voice shaky but determined. ”How long do we have?”

”Five minutes,” Killian replies, his tone brisk. ”If you hadn”t finished with Owen, I was going to do it for you.”

I scowl, walking past him without another word. Together, we make our way out of the building, navigating through the dark, winding corridors. My arm throbs painfully, but I push through the agony, focusing on getting out of here alive. The taste of victory is too sweet to let a broken arm slow me down.

We reach the exit and slip out, making our way across the parking area and to the trees surrounding it, where the others are waiting. They all look tense, eyes scanning the perimeter for any sign of trouble. When they see us, there’s a collective sigh of relief.

Together we turn to watch when the first explosion shatters the night’s stillness, a fiery blossom tearing through the building. One after another, nine more explosions follow in quick succession, each one sending debris and flames skyward until the whole structure is engulfed in an inferno.

The heat reaches us even from this distance, a scorching reminder of the destruction we’ve wrought. The building, once a symbol of Owen’s power and control, is now a blazing ruin.

There are others standing with us, people I have met or spoken to or heard about over the last few months while planning this. They are all watching and exchanging looks of relief and triumph, but there’s a somberness to it too. This victory came at a cost, and we all bear the scars of it. I clutch my broken arm, feeling a grim satisfaction. Owen is dead, and his empire is burning to the ground.

But he was only one little spider in a network of them. We may have won this fight but I know there are others still to come and for that we need to be prepared. We can no longer sit back and wait for the right time to strike. Now we need to build our own army, one that rivals those like The Order so that we can fight for the innocents caught in that web.

I resolve not to tell the guys about Owen’s old family. They have already escaped him once, they don’t need his memory to darken their lives more than it already has.

Rayth steps forward, his hands circling my waist but being careful of my arm. His expression is unreadable as he looks at the burning building. ”What now?” he asks, his voice quiet.

I take a deep breath, feeling a strange mix of relief and emptiness. ”Now,” I say, my voice steady, ”we rebuild. On our terms.”

Damon steps up beside me, pressing a gentle kiss to my temple, while Killian stands close on my other side, their gaze fixed on the burning building with satisfaction. Ash starts to rain down on us, drifting through the air like darkened snowflakes.

As it falls around us like a macabre snowfall, it feels fitting that I am standing there with the men who saved me from that snow all those months ago. They are my shelter and my strength. Not only did they pull me from the brink of death, they gave me the courage to live.

And now they stand beside me on the precipice of a new beginning.