Page 144 of Falling for the Grump Billionaire

Eva doesn’t respond, but I see the flicker of trust in her expression. It’s a small victory, but in moments like these, every inch matters.

Back at the Penthouse

The city lights glitter through the penthouse windows as we step inside. Adrian is already waiting, a grave expression on his face. He’s hunched over his laptop at the dining table, several monitors open and flashing with data.

“You’re late,” he says without looking up. “I’ve been running analysis on the facility.”

“Let’s hear it,” I say, shrugging off my coat and tossing it onto a nearby chair.

Adrian gestures to the largest monitor, where a schematic of the facility is displayed. “The barrels you found? They’re not just biohazards. My initial analysis suggests they’re holding compounds used in advanced explosives—highly unstable, incredibly dangerous, and banned under multiple international treaties.”

Eva’s face drains of color. “Explosives? Why would Reyes be stockpiling those?”

Adrian clicks a few keys, pulling up a list of shipping routes. “That’s the million-dollar question. These barrels have been moving along multiple routes, but the latest shipment is scheduled to leave tomorrow. Based on the manifest we intercepted, it’s headed for an unregistered freighter waiting off the coast.”

I step closer to the screen, my mind racing. “What’s the freighter’s destination?”

Adrian shakes his head. “It’s a ghost ship. No official registry, no tracking data. But based on the patterns, I’d say Reyes is planning to distribute these explosives to multiple locations.”

Eva inhales sharply. “Terror cells? Organized crime? What’s his angle?”

“Leverage,” I say grimly. “The same thing it always is. Reyes doesn’t just want money—he wants power. This gives him a way to control anyone, anywhere.”

Adrian nods. “And if these explosives get out, we’re looking at global repercussions. We have to stop this shipment.”

The Plan

Eva sits across from me at the dining table, her notebook open as she scribbles notes furiously. Adrian continues outlining the details, but my focus is split between the plan and the growingtension in Eva’s shoulders. I know what she’s thinking—Lena, Harbor Springs, and everyone else caught in Reyes’s crosshairs. She’s not just fighting for justice; she’s fighting to protect people she cares about.

“We hit the facility tonight,” Adrian says, snapping me back to the moment. “We can intercept the shipment before it leaves the docks. But we’ll need to move fast—Reyes has men on-site, and they’re armed.”

Eva looks up, her pen paused mid-sentence. “What about the freighter? Even if we stop the shipment, it’s still out there.”

“We’ll deal with that next,” I say. “One step at a time. First, we take the barrels out of play.”

She hesitates, then nods. “Okay. But if Reyes shows up—”

“He won’t,” I interrupt, my tone leaving no room for argument. “He doesn’t get his hands dirty unless he’s cornered. That’s why he sends messages like the one you got—he’s trying to scare us into backing off.”

“And what if we don’t?”

“Then he makes mistakes,” I say, standing and grabbing my jacket. “And that’s when we finish this.”

The Facility

The air is sharp and cold as we approach the facility under the cover of darkness. Adrian’s intel has proven invaluable—the security cameras have been looped, and we’ve identifiedthe guards’ patrol routes. Eva sticks close to me, her breathing steady despite the tension thrumming between us.

“This way,” I whisper, gesturing toward a side entrance. The lock is easy enough to disable, and within seconds, we’re inside.

The warehouse is even larger than I remember, its cavernous interior filled with rows of shipping containers. The faint hum of machinery echoes through the space, punctuated by the occasional footsteps of patrolling guards.

“Split up,” Adrian’s voice crackles softly in our earpieces. “You need to find the barrels and disable them before the shipment is loaded.”

Eva nods, moving toward the far end of the warehouse as I take the opposite direction. My heart pounds in my chest, but I push the fear aside, focusing on the task at hand. Every step feels like a gamble, every shadow a potential threat.

I spot the barrels near the center of the warehouse, stacked haphazardly inside an open container. My breath catches as I see the symbols painted on their sides—warning labels that confirm Adrian’s analysis. These aren’t just explosives; they’re catastrophic.

“Adrian,” I whisper into the comm. “I’ve got the barrels. How do we disable them?”

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