The heavy night air clung to Olivia’s skin, thick with the scent of rain that had yet to fall. Her hand remained locked in Ezra’s as they walked away from the Birmingham estate, but her legs felt unsteady beneath her. The distant echo of Victoria’s heels still rang in her ears, and the memory of her venomous voice slithered through her mind like a poison.
She stole a glance at Ezra. His face was cold, emotionless, his jaw tight and sharp enough to cut glass. The only sign that he was still human was the faint tremor in his fingers—the same fingers that smelled faintly of smoke and burnt paper.
They reached the black Audi parked just outside the estate gates, but Ezra didn’t open the door. He stood there, still and silent, his back to her, his shoulders tense beneath his jacket. Olivia watched as his hands slowly curled into fists, knuckles pale with pressure.
She took a hesitant step toward him.
“Ezra…” Her voice was barely a whisper.
He didn’t respond.
The only sound was the soft crackle of gravel beneath her shoes as she closed the distance. Gently, she placed her hand over his. His knuckles were taut, the skin stretched white with tension. He was still trembling slightly, though his face betrayed nothing.
Without thinking, Olivia slowly slipped her arms around him from behind. She pressed her cheek against his back, feeling the rigidness of his spine, the barely restrained fury vibrating through him. She felt his sharp intake of breath—quick and shallow—but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he slowly exhaled through his nose, his hands uncurling ever so slightly.
For a long moment, they stood there, unmoving.
Finally, Ezra’s voice cut through the stillness, low and raw.
“Are you afraid of me?”
The question hit her like a blow. She blinked, caught off guard, her arms tightening slightly around him.
“No,” she whispered. “Never.”
His hand came to rest over hers, fingers trembling faintly. But his voice was hollow when he spoke again.
“You should be.”
Her throat tightened. She slowly slid around him until she was facing him. The cold moonlight cast sharp lines across his face, but the moment she saw his eyes, her breath caught.
The fire was gone. The fury that had burned through him so violently only minutes ago had been replaced by something far more vulnerable—something broken. His eyes were heavy with the weight of what he had just done, as though the gravity of it was only now setting in.
Without a word, Olivia reached up and cupped his face in her hands. Her thumbs grazed the sharp line of his jaw, and she felt the faint stubble prickling against her skin. He closed his eyes at the touch, his breath unsteady.
“Ezra,” she whispered, her voice cracking slightly, “you didn’t make a mistake.”
His eyes opened, piercing into hers.
“I burned everything,” he said, his voice hoarse with disbelief. “Everything they could have used against you. Against us. And it still might not be enough.”
Her chest tightened painfully. She shook her head slightly.
“It was enough.”
For a brief moment, she thought he might argue. But instead, his hands came up to frame her face, and before she could say another word, his lips crashed against hers.
It wasn’t a gentle kiss. It was bruising and desperate, heavy with emotion—grief, relief, and something far more dangerous. His hands tangled in her hair, clutching her as though she might disappear. She met him with equal ferocity, her nails digging into his shoulders, holding on just as tightly.
When they finally parted, both of them were breathing heavily. Ezra’s forehead pressed against hers, his eyes dark and wild.
“You’re mine,” he murmured hoarsely, his voice a rough promise. “No one will ever touch you again. I swear it.”
Her fingers curled into the fabric of his jacket, and she nodded weakly. She knew he meant it. And she knew that if Victoria came for them, Ezra would destroy her.
But even as she clung to him, a sliver of doubt curled inside her chest like a serpent.
Victoria wouldn’t slink away into the night. She wouldn’t lick her wounds and disappear. No, she was far too vindictive for that. Olivia could feel it, a chill in her bones—the certainty that Victoria would come back stronger, crueler, and more ruthless than ever.
---
The Aftermath
They drove back to Ezra’s penthouse in silence. The roads were empty, the city washed in golden streetlights and shadows. Olivia stared out the window, watching the buildings blur by, but her thoughts were still back in the estate, haunted by the sound of Victoria’s voice.
She glanced at Ezra’s hand on the steering wheel, his knuckles still pale from how tightly he gripped it. The tension in his jaw hadn’t lessened.
When they finally pulled into the underground garage, Ezra killed the engine and sat in the driver’s seat without moving. His hands remained on the wheel, his shoulders stiff.
Olivia hesitated before reaching over and gently brushing her fingers over his hand.
“Ezra…”
For a moment, he didn’t move. But then, slowly, he released the steering wheel and turned to her. His eyes were dark, unreadable.
Without a word, he got out of the car.
She quickly followed him into the elevator, her heart pounding as they rode up in silence. The tension in the small space was suffocating.
The elevator doors slid open to the penthouse, but the moment they were inside, Ezra turned and locked the door behind them. Without a word, he walked over to the windows overlooking the city, bracing his hands against the glass. His shoulders were taut, his back turned to her.
For a moment, Olivia stood there, unsure of what to do. But then she quietly walked toward him, her footsteps soft against the hardwood floor. She stopped a few feet behind him, watching his reflection in the glass.
“Talk to me,” she whispered.
His hands curled into fists against the windowpane.
“I should have killed her.”
The words were low, bitter, and raw.
She stared at him, her breath catching.
“Ezra…”
His hands pressed harder against the glass, his knuckles white.
“She’s not going to stop,” he ground out. “No matter how much I burn. No matter how much I destroy. She’ll just come back. She’ll keep coming.” His voice was low, but trembling with restrained rage.
She slowly walked over to him and placed her hand over his.
“Then we’ll fight her,” she whispered.
He turned to her sharply, his eyes burning.
“You don’t understand.” His voice was harsh, almost desperate. “She’ll tear you apart. She’ll make you suffer just to watch me break.”
Olivia’s throat tightened, but she didn’t look away.
“She’ll try,” she said softly. “But she won’t win.”
For a long moment, they stared at each other, their breaths shallow, the weight of the night pressing down on them.
And then, slowly, Ezra pulled her against him. His arms wrapped around her with a desperation that made her chest tighten. She buried her face against his neck, breathing him in.
“You’re all I have left,” he whispered hoarsely against her hair. “I can’t lose you.”
Her fingers clutched at the fabric of his shirt.
“You won’t,” she promised fiercely.
But even as she held him, she knew the storm was far from over.
---
Victoria’s Next Move
Victoria stood outside the Birmingham estate, the cool night air biting at her skin. She could still feel the rage boiling in her veins. Her hands were trembling slightly, but she forced herself to steady them, balling them into fists.
Her heels clacked sharply against the pavement as she walked toward the waiting car. She wrenched the door open and slid into the back seat, her breath shallow with fury.
The man in the driver’s seat turned to face her—a lean man with sharp features and cruel eyes. He gave her a slow, mocking smile.
“Didn’t go as planned, huh?”
Victoria’s eyes narrowed dangerously.
“Drive.”
The man’s grin widened slightly, but he complied.
As the car pulled away from the estate, Victoria’s hands slowly uncurled. She reached into her purse and withdrew her phone.
Her lips curled into a cruel smirk as she dialed. The line rang twice before a deep voice answered.
“Ms. Birmingham,” the voice drawled smoothly. “I was starting to think you’d forgotten me.”
Victoria’s smile sharpened.
“Do you still have the files I sent you?”
A low chuckle rumbled through the speaker.
“Of course.”
Her eyes glittered with malicious satisfaction.
“Good,” she purred, her voice dark with promise. “It’s time to ruin them.”
As she ended the call, her nails dug into the leather seat, her eyes narrowing.
She wasn’t finished with Ezra. Not by a long shot.