Page 70 of Fallen Heir

He didn’t argue this time. He just stood there for a beat, staring at me like I’d just stolen the ground from under his feet before slowly turning to walk out the door.

But before he stepped completely out, he paused.

He looked back at me one last time, like maybe if he memorized my face, he could keep it safe with him. Then he left.

I leaned my forehead against the door, the cold surface doing nothing to steady the chaos spiraling inside me. Exhaustion wrapped around me like a second skin—thick, unrelenting. Every part of me felt heavy, like I hadn’t slept in days.

Then I heard it—the faintest sound—and I knew. He was still there, on the other side of the door. Sliding to the floor, silentand heartbroken, where he’d probably stay all night. But I didn’t open it again. I couldn’t.

Instead, I forced my feet to move, one shaky step at a time toward the only place that might offer some peace. My bedroom. Away from the world. Away from everything.

But peace didn’t wait for me there.

The second I flipped the light on, the illusion shattered.

And I froze.

Standing in the middle of the room—like he owned the air I breathed—was none other than Bruce Starling.

His suit was sharp, tailored like always. Not a thread out of place. His cufflinks glinted under the light, catching on the gold watch that ticked steadily at his wrist like it knew the countdown had begun. His stance was casual—one hand in his pocket, the other holding my future hostage.

But it was his grin that made my blood run cold. That grin wasn’t just smug—it was poisoned. It was the kind of smile someone wears when they know the scales have tipped in their favor. When they’ve been planning this moment for years and finally got their prey cornered.

And his eyes… they didn’t just look at me. Theypiercedme. Unblinking. Unfeeling. A predator sizing up his kill with all the patience in the world. Then I saw it.

The gun.

Cradled lazily in his hand, like it was just another accessory. His finger rested on the trigger—casual, controlled, practiced—pointed directly at me.

The room spun. My throat tightened. I couldn’t tell if my pulse was pounding in my ears or if time itself had started to slow.

He didn’t say a word.

He didn’t have to.

That grin said it all. The malice. The patience. The inevitability.

And his eyes—cold, unflinching—told me everything I needed to know.

This wasn’t just a threat. It was a reckoning.

And I’d just pushed away the only man who would’ve burned down the world to save me.

This time, I let the blackness consume me completely, not even trying to keep it at bay as I saw his figure move toward me.

Just before falling to the dark.

Chapter 24

Jaxson

Somewhere between cursing myself for ever leaving Savannah alone at the gala and replaying the look in her eyes when she’d discovered the truth—I drifted to sleep.

The way her face crumpled like I'd gutted her with my bare hands—it haunted me. Not because she was angry. But because she looked like she'd lost something she couldn’t name. Like I’d stolen it from her. And maybe I had.

Slouched against the front door to her apartment, spine aching and guilt heavy in my chest, I’d let exhaustion win.

She still didn’t know everything.