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He blames himself.

But this wasn't his doing alone. I'm as guilty as he is, more on account of my impulsiveness.

But the bigger part—the louder part—is just fucking scared.

The city shifts as we move toward the edge of downtown. The streets are wider here, the skyline less dense, giving way to sprawling lots and skeletal steel structures still in progress. Dean's latest project—the one keeping him late most nights—is a high-rise commercial complex, a massive undertaking that's been in the works for over a year.

And right now, it's a goddamn ghost town.

Liam pulls into the gravel lot beside a row of parked trucks, cutting the engine before we've even fully stopped.

I'm out of the car before I can think, gravel crunching under my heels as I scan the dimly lit site. The skeletal frame of the building towers above us, its exposed beams stark against the night sky. Construction equipment is scattered around, locked up for the night. A few portable floodlights cast eerie pools of white over the concrete and rebar.

No movement.

No sign of Dean.

"Where the fuck is he?" Ryan mutters, scanning the area.

"Dean!" I call, my voice sharp, cutting through the silence.

For a terrifying second, there's nothing. Just the distant hum of traffic, the rustle of wind through unfinished walls…

Then, footsteps. Heavy, purposeful.

Dean steps out from the far side of the site, a clipboard in one hand, a coffee in the other, looking both confused and irritated.

"The hell are you all doing here?"

Relief crashes through me so fast my knees almost give out.

But it lasts half a second.

Because now I have to tell him.

Ryan is already storming forward, grabbing Dean's arm. "Have you seen Andrew? Did he come here?"

Dean frowns. "Andrew? No. Why?"

Liam exhales sharply, shoving a hand through his hair. "We got word he was heading this way."

Dean's frown deepens. "For what?"

And there it is. The moment I can't avoid any longer.

I swallow hard, stepping forward. "Dean," I say carefully, my voice steady even though I don't feel it. "We need to talk."

He narrows his eyes, sensing the weight in my words. "Ava?—"

I lift a hand. "Just… listen, okay?"

I tell him everything.

The texts. The threats. The fake dating arrangement. Vanessa.

Dean's face darkens with every word. His hand tightens around the clipboard, his shoulders going rigid, his jaw clenched so tight I'm half convinced his teeth might crack.

Ryan is shifting beside me, still fuming, while Nate watches with careful, unreadable eyes.