The final confrontation

CHAPTER 132

RYAN

The morning sun cast a hazy light over Florence, its warmth doing little to quell the storm inside me. Violet’s tearful face was burned into my mind, her voice still ringing in my ear

I hated lying to her, but what choice did I have? If she knew what I was walking into, she’d never let me go. And I couldn’t risk her being anywhere near this. I needed to protect her from this darkness and when all this was done. I'll explain everything to her.

I tightened my grip on the strap of my bag, my pace quickening as I approached the building at 243 Willow Crest Lane. From the outside, it looked abandoned—cracked windows, peeling paint, and an overgrown yard. But I knew better. 

The building was three stories tall, but my target was the second floor. From my surveillance over the last two days, I knew the layout well. Margaret had claimed the living room at the front for herself, with its large, dust-covered windows and threadbare furniture. The back of the apartment, however, held something far darker. That was where she kept the children—an old storage room turned into a prison.

I slipped in through a side door, the hinges protesting softly as I pushed it open. The inside smelled of mildew and neglect, the air heavy with a suffocating stillness. My boots barely made a sound on the warped wooden floors as I crept toward the staircase.

At the top of the stairs, I paused, listening. Voices filtered through the air—Margaret’s sharp, cutting tone and the deeper, gravelly voice of a man I assumed was her husband. They were in the living room, just as I’d expected.

"I told you," Margaret hissed. "After this deal, once we get all the money for these kids, we’re fleeing the country. No more risks."

A man’s voice followed, gruff and impatient. "And I told you we can’t rush this. We need to wait for the buyer to confirm the transfer. If you screw this up, Margaret—"

"Don’t you dare blame me!" she snapped. "You’d still be rotting in that hole I found you in if it weren’t for me!"

Their argument gave me the cover I needed. Moving quickly and quietly, I slipped past the living room and down the narrow hallway. The door to the storage room loomed ahead, the padlock on it shining.

I crouched down, pulling out the lock pick from my pocket. Picking lock was a skill I've learned with Jack while we were in  high school.

And now it's helping.

With a soft click, the door swung open, revealing a sight that made my blood boil.

Seven children, no older than ten, huddled together in the corner of the dimly lit room. Their wrists were bound, their faces streaked with tears and dirt.

I stepped inside, my voice low and soothing. "It’s okay. You’re safe now."

The kids stared at me with wide, fearful eyes, but I crouched down, keeping my tone gentle. "I’m here to get you out. The cops are on their way."

One by one, I started untying their restraints, murmuring reassurances. My hands shook with anger, but I kept my movements steady for their sake. How could anyone do this? How could a human be this heartless??

And then I heard it.

The soft creak of the door behind me.

"Ryan," came Margaret’s voice. I should have known”

I stood slowly, turning to face her. She was alone, but her expression told me she wasn’t unarmed.

"That’s why I came prepared," I said,as I pulled the gun from my waistband.

Her smirk faltered, just for a moment.

"This ends tonight, Margaret," I said, the weight of years of pain and anger tightening my grip on the weapon. "No more running. No more hiding."

Her eyes narrowed, her hands twitching at her sides. I didn’t wait to find out what she was reaching for.

"Don’t move," I ordered, my aim steady. "The cops are almost here. You’ve got nowhere to go."

For once, Margaret was silent, her arrogance stripped away by the barrel of the gun pointed at her.

But I wasn’t done yet. Not until I made sure every single one of those kids walked out of here alive.

I managed to guide the kids to safety, my voice low as I urged them toward the back exit I’d unlocked earlier. Their small, trembling hands gripping mine as I whispered, “You’re safe now. Just keep going. Don’t stop until you see the cops outside.”

They scurried out one by one and when they were all gone, I turned to Margaret.

Her gaze flicked to the gun in my hand, her lips curling into a cruel smile. “We both know you can’t pull that trigger, Ryan”

I smirked, cocking the gun in precision. “If you still see me as that timid, scared kid you used, then you are in for a surprise”

Margaret took a step forward, her eyes gleaming with malice. “You used to be so loving, Ryan”

“Stop right there,” I barked.

But she didn’t stop. Instead, she tilted her head, her smile turning predatory. “We had fun, didn’t we, Ryan? I made you a man,” she cooed. “I taught you things no one else could.”

“Shut up,” I growled, my hand tightening on the gun. My grip was steady, but inside, my stomach churned with fury and disgust.

Margaret chuckled, taking another step closer. “Oh, come on. Don’t act like you didn’t enjoy it. You were so eager, so—”

I didn’t let her finish. With a sharp motion, I kicked the door behind me, slamming it into her head. The impact sent her staggering back, a cry of pain escaping her lips.

“Enough!” I snarled. “You don’t get to rewrite what you did to me.”

Margaret steadied herself against the wall, wiping at a trickle of blood on her forehead. Her eyes burned with rage now, but before she could say another word, the sound of the door creaked open sent a wave of relief through me. 

Finally, the cops had arrived. I kept my gun trained on Margaret, a smirk tugging at my lips.

“Looks like your time’s up,” I said, my voice cold.

But when I turned to the door,the blood ran cold.

A tall man stood in the doorway—the same one I’d heard arguing with Margaret earlier. His grizzled face was twisted in a sneer, but it wasn’t him that held my attention.

It was Violet.

My grip on the gun tightened as I locked eyes with Violet, her fear bleeding into me. She shouldn’t have been here. How did she even find me?

“Violet,” I whispered.

Her lips trembled, tears streaming down her face. “I’m so sorry, Ryan. I just—I couldn’t let you do this alone.”

Damn it, Violet.

The man’s grip on her tightened, his smirk deepening. “Touching. But she’s here now, and I’d say she’s very much involved.”

“Please,” I said, my voice steady despite the storm brewing inside me. “Let her go. She has nothing to do with this.”

The man smirked, his grip on Violet tightening as he taunted me. “You’re out of moves, kid. Put the gun down, or I pull the trigger.”

I didn’t move, my mind racing. His gun was pressed to Violet’s temple, her wide, terrified eyes fixed on me.

"Ryan, don’t do it!" Violet pleaded, her voice trembling.

My heart pounded in my chest, every instinct screaming to protect her. Slowly, I lowered my gun, letting it clatter to the floor. I raised my hands in surrender, keeping my eyes locked on the man. 

“You have me. Let her go. She’s not a part of this.”

The man chuckled darkly. “Let her go? Nice try. I think I’ll keep her right where she is.”

"Please," I said, desperation creeping into my voice. "Don’t do this. She’s innocent."

But he didn’t care. Instead, he sneered and moved the gun away from Violet’s temple, aiming it directly at her chest.

“No!” I shouted, my body reacting before my mind caught up.

In the split second it took for him to pull the trigger, I lunged forward, knocking Violet to the ground.

And then everything happened in a blur.

The gun fired.

Pain exploded in my side as the seering beat of the bullet tore into me, but I didn’t stop. My body collided with hers, forcing her out of the man’s grip and to the ground behind me.

The distant sound of Violet screaming my name was drowned out by the pounding in my ears.

"Drop your weapon! Hands in the air!" The cops’ voices boomed as they stormed into the room, their guns drawn and aimed. Margaret and her husband froze in place, caught in their web. But I barely noticed. My world was narrowing, and the only thing grounding me was Violet.

She was suddenly there, her hands trembling as they pressed against my side. “Ryan! Oh God, Ryan, stay with me!” Her voice broke, her sobs raw and desperate.

Her face swam in my vision, her wide eyes shimmering with tears. I reached up, my hand unsteady, and wiped a tear from her cheek.

"Don’t cry, mouse," I whispered, my voice faint.

“You’re going to be fine,” she insisted, her voice trembling as she tried to stop the bleeding. “The ambulance is on its way. You’re not leaving me, okay?”

Her face was so close, Her beauty hit me like it always did, but this time, it was magnified. Even in her fear, she looked so ethereal, so heartbreakingly perfect. Pretty. She was so pretty, like a sunrise after the darkest night. Like the first bloom of spring pushing through the snow. She was so pretty, like a painting brought to life. Like the first bloom of spring breaking through the cold.

Even if I die, at least I’ll know she’s safe. At least I’ll know I saved her. Saved the kids. That’s enough, isn’t it?

Her frantic voice pulled me back. “You’re going to be fine,” she insisted, her tears streaming as she pressed harder against the wound “Ryan stay with me!” 

I smiled faintly, the pain making it hard to hold on, but I had to. Just a little longer. "I love you…so much, mouse,"

And then, the darkness finally won.