Olivia's POV
The laughter felt strange after everything we'd been through. Not fake—just fragile, as if the sound itself might shatter and fall to pieces if we held onto it for too long.
We were in the greenhouse again. The warm scent of soil and jasmine wrapped around us like a memory of peace. Sebastian sat beside me, one arm lazily draped around my shoulder, his body angled toward mine like I was gravity itself. Vince leaned back on a bench, sipping from a bottle of sparkling cider with a rare smile tugging at his lips. Evelyn stood near the glass, her arms crossed, but her eyes softer than I'd seen in days.
We were alive. We'd won—for now.
The cyberattack had worked better than we imagined. Evelyn's exposé, laced with data Vince and Sebastian had pulled, spread like wildfire. Screens across the country lit up with Lawrence's name, no longer spoken with reverence, but disgust. The children—those names on that cursed list—were finally being mourned in public. Families who had spent years in silence and confusion were now demanding answers.
Lawsuits were being filed. Protests ignited. His career was going up in flames.
And just when I thought we could breathe—just when I leaned in to kiss Sebastian, brushing my nose against his as his hand slid up my back—I felt my phone buzz against my thigh.
I ignored it at first. I didn't want the moment to end.
He kissed my forehead and whispered something soft I didn't even hear because the second buzz was harder to ignore. I slipped the phone out and glanced down, my breath catching.
UNREGISTERED SENDER "We both lost people, Olivia. Maybe it's time to talk instead of fight. Let's make a deal. I can give you what you want. Come alone."
My chest tightened. My thumb trembled above the screen. I didn't believe it. I couldn't.
"Liv?" Sebastian looked at me, his voice low, concerned.
I opened my mouth to say something—anything—but another message appeared. A video clip. I tapped it before I could stop myself.
The image showed a battered agent we'd seen before—Cole's former security advisor, now clearly beaten and chained. He looked at the camera and spoke in a whisper.
"Jonathan Patterson wants to talk. He's calling a ceasefire. One hour. Coordinates attached. Olivia only."
"Liv?" Sebastian asked again, sitting up straighter now.
But just as I was about to show him, another ping came through.
"Don't tell him. Or he dies."
I stared at those words for a full ten seconds. My stomach dropped, and my mouth went dry. My mind raced through possibilities—what if this was just another trap? But the hostage was real. And Jonathan Patterson... Sebastian's father. The man who had orchestrated all of this from the shadows.
I looked at Sebastian. His blue eyes searched mine, and I knew he saw it—the shift. The lie I was about to tell. The same eyes as his father, but filled with warmth instead of calculation. How could I tell him that the man who shared his blood wanted to make a deal? That the father who had abandoned him years ago was now using me as bait?
"I... need some air," I whispered.
I stood, my legs like water. Eve raised an eyebrow at me, but I shook my head before she could say anything. I didn't want to risk it. I didn't want them to follow.
But they did.
I was halfway to the garage when I heard a voice behind me—Sebastian.
"Olivia, stop. What's going on?"
I spun. "Nothing. I just—"
He was already walking toward me, eyes narrowing. "You're lying."
"I'm not—"
"I know your face, Liv. Tell me."
I couldn't. If I did, if he came after me—he'd be dead. I couldn't risk it. So I did the only thing I could.
I looked him in the eye, and I lied.
"I'm going for a drive."
He didn't believe me, but he didn't stop me either. He stood there, fists clenched at his sides, his expression torn between frustration and fear.
The coordinates took me to a crumbling warehouse just outside the city. The sky had darkened to a deep navy, stars struggling to shine through the city's glow. I parked and stepped inside, heart pounding, nerves like shards of glass beneath my skin.
"Hello?" I called.
Nothing.
I walked farther in, hand on the pistol at my hip. "You wanted to talk—?"
Then everything exploded.
Pain. Arms grabbing me. A needle in my neck. The world spun, and my knees gave out.
And then darkness.
Sebastian's POV
I knew she was lying the second she walked away. I knew it in the way her shoulders tensed, in the way her voice had dropped just a note too low, like it carried the weight of something she wasn't ready to speak aloud.
Something was wrong. Something had shifted in the greenhouse when she looked at her phone. One moment she was there with me, present and warm, and the next, she was a million miles away, eyes clouded with a fear I hadn't seen
I waited all of two minutes before bolting to the garage.
But she was gone.
"Damn it, Liv," I muttered, pulling out my phone. I called her. No answer. I tried again. Still nothing.
By the third time, I was already in Vince's car, tearing out of the driveway like a storm.
"She wouldn't just leave like this," I talked to myself speeding down the highway. "Not at a time like this."
The night air rushing through the cracked window did nothing to ease the dread building in my chest. I checked the tracker Vince had installed in all of ours phone weeks ago—a precaution we all agreed on after Chaos,
Offline.
I gripped the steering wheel. "No no no—"
I tried to focus, to think. Where would she go? What could have made her leave without a word? I remembered the message notification that had appeared on her screen just before her expression changed. Something had frightened her—badly enough to make her run.
I was so caught in my thoughts that I almost missed the turn. The tracker had gone offline near the abandoned industrial district—an area known for its empty warehouses and lack of surveillance. Perfect for a meet-up. Or an ambush.
The warehouse stood like a skeleton against the night sky. Olivia's car was parked outside, empty. No other vehicles in sight, but that didn't mean anything. Anyone could be waiting inside.
I approached cautiously, staying low, moving from shadow to shadow. The air felt wrong—too still, like the calm before a storm.
I didn't see the SUV until it rammed into me.
Metal twisted. Tires screamed. My head slammed against the window. Pain bloomed in my shoulder, and something cracked.
I am staggered out of the vehicle, dizzy, bleeding. my vision swam, but through the haze, I saw figures moving—dragging something. Someone.
And there she was.
Olivia—unconscious, being dragged toward another car.
"OLIVIA!" I screamed.
I didn't even think. I ran, my legs on fire, pain screaming from my ribs.
A gun raised.
I didn't stop.
The shot cracked through the air like thunder. Pain exploded in my thigh, a white-hot bolt that nearly dropped me to my knees. I staggered but kept moving, dragging Olivia's limp body behind the crates. The warehouse was dark, thick with dust and echoes of shouted orders.
Another shot tore through the air—this one grazing my arm. I clenched my teeth, refusing to cry out. There were too many of them. I couldn't win this. But I had to try.
"Olivia," I whispered, holding her against me as we crouched behind cover. Her skin was too pale. Her breathing shallow. "Liv, please wake up."
She didn't respond. Her head lolled against my shoulder like a ragdoll. My blood smeared across her cheek as I cradled her closer. My heart was breaking. What had they done to her?
Footsteps.
A shadow stretched over us.
I looked up—and there he was. Jonathan. My father. A gun in his hand, and the same cold, calculating hatred in his eyes that haunted every damn nightmare I'd ever had.
"Let her go," he said calmly, as if he were telling me to pass the salt.
I spat blood at his boots. "Go to hell."
He raised the gun again. "Still defiant. I expected nothing less from a bastard."
A pair of hands dragged me backward—away from her. I fought, every nerve in my body screaming. Then I saw it.
The black van.
They were loading Olivia in. Her head rolled lifelessly against a man's chest, her arms limp. One of them shoved her inside like she was nothing more than cargo.
"NO!" I screamed. Or maybe I just tried to. My voice barely escaped my throat.
I tried to crawl, my limbs heavy and useless. My vision blurred. Blood pooled beneath me. Then—silence. Everything dimmed.
And then he stepped into view again.
Jonathan.
My father.
He crouched down beside me. I wanted to punch him. Scream. Kill him. But all I could do was bleed.
"You were always weak," he said, cocking his head. "But I had hope for you once. You could've been something. But then she happened."
His eyes shifted to where Olivia had disappeared.
"You let a woman break you. You call that love? I call it a disease. You're pathetic."
I glared at him. My voice trembled, but I forced the words out. "If you touch her, I'll kill you."
He didn't flinch. He smiled.
Then—he pulled the trigger.
The gunshot was deafening at close range. My world twisted into red and black as the bullet tore into my other leg. The pain was unbearable—something raw and molten tearing through my muscles and bone.
I collapsed fully, screaming. My face hit the ground.
"I shot you," he said, almost with amusement. "My own son. You hear that? And I don't feel a damn thing."
I coughed blood, spitting it onto the floor. "Go to hell."
you'll crawl back to me too, eventually. Because you can't lose a son like you, Sebastian. You're mine. And she made you weak."
He looked toward the door where Olivia had vanished. "But I'll fix you. I'll make you strong again. Without her."
He stood up and turned his back.
And then he was gone.
Later – After the Van Escaped
Footsteps rushed toward me.
"Sebastian!" Vince. "Jesus—Seb!"
I barely opened my eyes. Vince dropped to his knees beside me, and Evelyn hovered behind him, her face pale as death.
"Where is she?" I rasped.
"They took her," Eve said quietly. "They... they were gone before we got here. We were too late."
"No," I croaked. "He has her. Jonathan has her."
Evelyn dropped beside me, already pressing cloth to my bleeding wounds. "We'll get her back. We'll get her—just hang on, okay?"
"She... she fainted," I whispered. "He said will kill her just like he killed my mom. He—"
"Save your strength," Vince ordered. "You're going into shock. We've got to move."
I didn't want to be moved. I didn't care about the bullets in my legs or the blood pouring from my shoulder. All I could think about was Olivia—taken by a monster.
A monster who happened to be my father.
Olivia's POV
When I woke up, I was in a room with no windows and cold metal walls. My head throbbed, and my wrists were zip-tied.
The drugs they'd injected me with still clung to the edges of my consciousness, making the world tilt and swirl if I moved too quickly. I took a deep breath, trying to center myself, to remember what had happened. The warehouse. The ambush. Sebastian—had he followed me? I couldn't remember clearly.
I tested the zip ties, but they were industrial grade, cutting into my skin when I pulled too hard. The room was sparse—just me, a metal chair, and a table bolted to the floor. A single lightbulb hung from the ceiling, casting harsh shadows across the concrete floor.
The door opened with a metallic creak, and a figure stepped through.
And across from me, seated in a chair like he had all the time in the world, was Jonathan Patterson.
Even after everything, the sight of him still sent a chill down my spine. He was tall, with a powerful build, silver-streaked dark hair, and those eyes—Sebastian's eyes, but colder, calculating. He wore an expensive suit like armor, every crease perfect, every button in its place.
"Good morning," he said, his voice smooth, calm, like this was a boardroom, not a prison.
I said nothing.
"You've been busy," he said. "ECHO files. Senator Cole. Lawrence. Very... patriotic of you."
Still, I said nothing.
He stood, walked closer. "I don't want to kill you, Olivia. I admire you. You're intelligent. Driven. Passionate. But passion without control is chaos."
"I'd rather be chaos than a coward," I spat.
He slapped me.
Not hard. Just enough to remind me who had the power here.
"That's the problem with you," he said, calm again. "You don't know when to stop."
He turned away, hands clasped behind his back.
"But I'll give you a choice," he continued. "You can work with me. Or you can die."
I laughed—actually laughed. It felt good.
"You think I'm afraid of dying?"
"No," he said, turning back. "But you're afraid of watching others die. That boy—Sebastian. He came for you. Got himself shot. I shot my son. My own blood was flowing tonight."
I felt the breath catch in my throat. Something cold and heavy settled in my stomach.
"You're lying."
He smiled. "Am I?"
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a phone. He tapped the screen a few times before turning it toward me. The video showed Sebastian, bloody and unconscious, being loaded into a van. The timestamp showed it was taken less than an hour ago.
"He always was stubborn," Patterson said, putting the phone away. "Gets that from his mother. Not from me. I taught him to calculate, to plan. But when it comes to you..." He shook his head. "Emotions cloud judgment."
"Where is he?" I demanded, straining against the zip ties. "What have you done with him?"
"He's alive. For now." Patterson walked back to the chair and sat down, crossing his legs casually. "Which brings me back to my proposition."
"I'll never work for you," I hissed.
"Not even to save him?" He raised an eyebrow. "You've seen what I'm capable of, Olivia. I shot my own son tonight. Do you really think I'd hesitate to finish the job?"
My mind raced. I needed to stall, to think.
The door clanged shut behind him, leaving me alone with my thoughts and the knowledge that Sebastian—the man I loved, the man who had risked everything to save me—was hurt, possibly dying, because of me.
I closed my eyes, trying to think beyond the fear and the guilt. There had to be a way out of this. There always was.