The weight of Detective Harper's words hung heavy in the air, his warning echoing in Rossy's mind.
"He already knows. The question is, how long do you think you have before he acts?"
Her heart raced as she glanced at the closed study door. Zeath's was still in there, his shadow faintly visible beneath the crack of light. The man she had loved and trusted for years was now a stranger—a dangerous one.
"Rossy," Harper's voice was firm but quiet, pulling her back to the present. "We don't have time. If we wait too long, he'll know something's wrong. Pack a bag, and we'll leave."
Her hands trembled as she looked at him, the weight of the decision pressing down on her chest. "And then what?" she whispered. "If I run, won't that make me look guilty? Won't that make him come after me?"
Harper's jaw tightened. "If you stay, he'll come after you anyway. You've seen too much. Men like Adrian don't take chances—not when their entire operation is on the line."
She swallowed hard, her throat dry. Every instinct screamed at her to run, but the thought of leaving the life she had built, of walking away from everything she knew, left her frozen.
"He'll find me," she said, her voice barely audible. "No matter where I go, he'll find me."
Harper stepped closer, his expression softening just slightly. "That's why I'm here. I'll get you somewhere safe, and we'll figure out how to take him down. But we need to move now, Rossy."
Her gaze flickered to the study door again, her mind racing. She thought of the notebook hidden in the kitchen, the damning evidence that could destroy Zeath's world—and possibly save her own.
"I need to get something," she said suddenly, her voice steadier than she felt.
"What?" Harper asked, his tone sharp with suspicion.
"Proof," she said. "I found a notebook. It has names, dates, shipments—everything. If I leave without it, he'll get away with this."
Harper hesitated, clearly torn. "Where is it?"
"In the kitchen," she said, already moving toward the counter.
She reached into the back of the drawer where she had hidden the notebook earlier, her fingers brushing against the cool leather. Relief flooded her as she pulled it out and turned back to Harper.
"Here," she said, holding it out to him.
Harper took the notebook, flipping through its pages with a grim expression. "This is good," he admitted. "It might be enough to start building a case against him. But we'll need more."
Before she could respond, the sound of the study door opening made her blood run cold.
Caught in the Crossfire
Zeath's footsteps were slow and deliberate as he entered the living room, his dark eyes immediately locking onto Isabella and Harper.
The air grew thick with tension, the silence broken only by the faint hum of the city outside. Zeath's gaze shifted to the notebook in Harper's hand, his expression hardening.
"Rossy," he said, his voice calm but laced with steel. "What's going on here?"
Her throat tightened, panic clawing at her chest. For a moment, she couldn't speak, couldn't move.
Harper stepped forward, his stance protective. "Zeath, we need to talk."
Zeath's eyes narrowed, a dangerous smile curling at the edges of his lips. "Detective Harper. I was wondering when you'd make an appearance."
"You know why I'm here," Harper said evenly. "Rossy's seen enough to know the truth about you. It's over."
Zeath's smile faded, replaced by a cold, calculating expression. "You think you can waltz into my home and make accusations without consequences? You have no idea what you're dealing with."
"Don't make this harder than it needs to be," Harper warned. "Step aside and let her go."
Zeath's gaze flickered to Rossy, and for a brief moment, she saw something in his eyes—betrayal, anger, and something else she couldn't name.
"Rossy," he said softly, his tone almost pleading. "Whatever he's told you, it's not true. You know me. You know I'd never hurt you."
Her chest tightened, his words cutting deeper than she expected. But the memory of the notebook, the threats at the docks, and the cold calculation in his voice was enough to steel her resolve.
"Do I?" she whispered, her voice trembling. "Because the man I saw last night… that wasn't you."
Zeath's jaw clenched, and his expression hardened once more. "You're making a mistake," he said, his voice low and dangerous.
Harper moved between them, his hand subtly reaching toward the holster at his side. "Enough. Rossy, grab your things. We're leaving."
Zeath's gaze darkened, and for a moment, the tension was unbearable. Then, in one swift motion, he pulled a phone from his pocket, his fingers moving quickly across the screen.
Rossy's heart sank as she realized what he was doing.
"Zeath," she said, panic rising in her voice. "What are you doing?"
He looked up at her, his expression cold. "You wanted to see the real me, Rossy? Fine. But you're not leaving."
Before either of them could react, the faint sound of tires screeching outside reached their ears. Isabella's stomach twisted as she realized Zeath had called for backup.
"They'll be here in minutes," Zeath said, his voice calm and unnervingly steady. "And when they arrive, there won't be anywhere for you to run."
Harper pulled his gun, leveling it at Zeath. "Call them off," he demanded.
Zeath smirked, raising his hands in mock surrender. "You think a gun is going to solve this? You don't understand how this works, Harper. You're out of your depth."
Rossy's heart pounded as the sound of approaching footsteps grew louder. She looked between Harper and Zeath, her mind racing.
"James," she whispered, fear lacing her voice. "What do we do?"
Harper didn't take his eyes off Adrian. "Stay behind me. When I say run, you run."
Rossy's pulse thundered in her ears as the door rattled, voices shouting on the other side. Her world was unraveling faster than she could comprehend, and for the first time, she realized just how dangerous Zeath truly was.
Should Rossy and Harper escape, or should they confront Adrian's men and take a stand? The next chapter is sure to take an intense turn!