When the car rolled to a slow stop outside the dimly lit hideout, Marty didn’t say a word.
He stepped out first, then opened the back door and motioned for her to follow, but Alex didn’t need his guidance. She remembered the cracked tiles, the creaking hallway, the way the walls breathed quiet threats. The place had a scent—faint rot, old smoke, and damp secrecy.
She walked ahead, ignoring Marty’s protective glance, and found the door already slightly ajar.
She pushed it open.
David sat exactly where he had been the last time—leaning back in a tattered leather chair, cigarette pinched between two fingers, his eyes locked on her as if he’d expected her to come crawling back.
Which, she supposed, she had.
Marty shut the door behind her.
Alex crossed her arms and exhaled. “Alright,” she muttered, voice tight. “Say it. I know I failed. I’m sorry.”
David scoffed, taking a drag. “You didn’t sell a single pack of my drugs.”
She flinched and dropped herself onto the stained couch across from him. “I know, I know I didn’t,” she said, defeated. “I couldn’t go through with it. It felt wrong.”
David watched her in silence. His eyes were unreadable, calculating. She braced herself for a lecture or maybe a dismissal.
Instead, he stubbed out his cigarette and leaned forward.
“Alright,” he said, voice gravel-thick. “So where do we start with the Hales?”
Alex blinked. “Wait—what?”
He rolled his eyes. “You proved you’re not some porcelain doll like the rest of your kind. You got in deep, didn’t sell, didn’t run. That’s worth something.”
She stared. “You… you believe me?”
“I didn’t say that,” he muttered. “I said I’d help you. We’ve got the same enemy, kid.”
A beat passed.
Then Alex shot up from the couch, her eyes wide with a flicker of hope that hadn’t been there in days. “I’ll do anything. I won’t let you down.”
David grunted and stood. “That’s what I’m worried about.” He opened the door and gestured for her to follow. “Come on. If we’re going to work together, we’ve got to move fast. And quiet.”
Alex followed him down the dark corridor, her boots echoing softly behind him.
“The Hales have ears everywhere,” David warned. “You think you’ve seen their worst? You haven’t. Not even close. You start poking too loud, you’ll end up in a ditch.”
“Then we’ll whisper,” Alex said under her breath.
David snorted, almost approvingly.
They stopped beside a rusting gate, and David pointed at the car parked beyond it.
“Yours,” he said. “Keys are in the seat.”
Alex raised a brow. “How long has it been here?”
“Long enough. But don’t worry. Marty kept it warm.”
She walked toward it, unlocking the door. Before she climbed in, David leaned down to the open window.
“Go home, kid,” he said quietly. “I’ll handle some things on my end and join you in a few days.”
Alex hesitated.
He added, “Just don’t screw everything up before I get there.”
She nodded once, then pulled the door shut and turned the key.
As the engine came to life, she glanced in the rearview mirror. David was already speaking to Marty, their heads low, their expressions unreadable. Whatever they were planning, she knew it wasn’t going to be easy.
But for the first time in days, she wasn’t alone.
***
The drive home blurred past like a long exhale. The road was dark, broken only by the occasional glow of gas stations or flickering motel signs. She stopped twice—once to eat, once to refuel—but otherwise drove through the night, letting the silence soothe her frayed thoughts.
By the time she reached the city’s edge, the sky had turned a deep indigo, not quite morning yet.
She parked the car near the building, the tank nearly empty, and dragged her bags up to the penthouse with stiff arms and heavier thoughts.
The moment she opened the door, a familiar voice called out.
“Alex?”
Her knees buckled just slightly at the sound.
“Dad?” she breathed.
A second later, she was in Luca’s arms, then Nova’s. Her mother’s embrace was soft and trembling, her perfume familiar. It smelled like home.
“I’m okay,” Alex whispered, though her voice cracked. “I’m okay now.”
They didn’t ask questions. They didn’t press.
Not yet.
She spent the next half hour in her room, face buried in her pillow, her limbs aching, her brain fogged with exhaustion. The adrenaline that had carried her across cities finally gave out, and the weight of it all began to settle.
She wasn’t even sure when her phone buzzed. It was wedged beneath a blanket, vibrating insistently. She pulled it out lazily.
A message from Luca.
Come outside.
She frowned.
Outside?
She pushed off the blanket and stepped into her slippers, wrapping a thin cardigan over her tank top before slipping out of her room.
When she made it to the ground floor and stepped out onto the pavement in front of the building, the last person she expected to see was waiting.
Not Luca.
Zade.
He was standing near the curb, slightly winded, his hands in his pockets, and that usual look on his face—the one between confusion and frustration—was painted across his expression.
“Did you run here or something?” Alex asked, confused.
“Of course not,” he rolled his eyes, but there was no bite in his tone.
Just… relief.
A pause settled between them, filled with too many unsaid things.
“You came back,” he finally said.
Alex folded her arms. “Of course I came back. It’s my home.”
He nodded once, then reached into his coat and pulled out a folded paper.
He shoved it into her hands, quick and without warning.
She stared at him, then unfolded the page.
Her eyes widened.
It was a transaction trail—an official report tracing the purchase of Steel’s shares not to Zade Hale, but to Stewart Holdings. Specifically, a private shell group owned by Gale Williams.
Proof. Irrefutable.
Alex looked up slowly.
Zade met her gaze squarely. “I told you it wasn’t me.”
Then, before she could say anything, before she could stammer out guilt or apology or thank you—he turned.
And walked away.
Leaving her stunned on the sidewalk.
Clutching the proof in her hands.
And suddenly unsure of anything at all.