Page 115 of Sinfully Yours

Andrew sways slightly, like the weight of everything is finally pressing down on him. "She wasn't going to stop," he whispers, more to himself than to us. "I thought… I thought if I could just buy some time?—"

Liam's voice is cold. "And what? You'd come here, make sure Dean didn't find out, and Vanessa would suddenly forgive your debts? Let you walk free?"

Andrew flinches. "I didn't?—"

But he doesn't finish.

Because suddenly, something in him breaks.

His grip tightens. His eyes darken. His body tenses?—

And then he swings.

The crowbar cuts through the air, aiming straight for Liam's head.

Liam dodges in a split second, twisting out of the way just as the metal whistles past his temple, slamming into a steel beam with a resounding clang.

"What the fuck?" Ryan bellows, lunging forward.

Andrew stumbles, panting, wide-eyed, but he doesn't drop the crowbar. Instead, he grips it tighter, his breathing ragged, his expression twisted with something close to desperation.

Liam straightens, rolling his shoulders, his face carved from stone. "That," he says evenly, "was a mistake."

25

LIAM

Andrew is breathing like a man who's already lost but hasn't accepted it yet. His grip on the crowbar is tight, his knuckles bone-white, his chest heaving like he's trying to draw in enough air to keep himself from crumbling. But he's surrounded, and he knows it.

The construction site looms around us—cold steel beams, stacks of lumber, half-formed walls that cast jagged shadows under the floodlights. The city hums faintly in the distance, oblivious to the fact that some desperate idiot is currently wielding a crowbar like it's going to solve his problems.

Ryan is already circling, fists clenched at his sides, his stance coiled and ready for violence. Dean looks like he's barely resisting the urge to throw the guy into the nearest concrete mixer. Even Nate, the rational one, is standing tense beside Ava, like he's deciding whether words or fists are the better option.

I shake out my shoulders, rolling my neck, keeping my stance loose. "Alright, Andrew," I say, calm and measured, like I'm talking a man off a ledge. "Let's think about this."

Andrew lets out a short, bitter laugh. "Think about what? How I just tried to cave your skull in?" He gestures wildly with the crowbar, and Ryan tenses like a pit bull on a short leash. "You think there's a way out of this for me?"

"That depends," I say easily, stepping just slightly to the left, forcing him to adjust his stance. "You could do something smart for once, or you could keep flailing that thing around and end up in a situation you can't talk your way out of."

Andrew scoffs, but his grip shifts, uncertain, hesitant. "It's already over. You don't get it, Carter. You think you know how she works? Vanessa owns people. She ruins them. You don't walk away from her."

I arch a brow. "Funny. I did."

He barks out another reckless laugh. "Yeah? And look how that turned out. She's been tearing your life apart for months. Do you really think you're winning?"

Something flickers in his expression—something unhinged and furious. And that's when I know. Andrew isn't just scared. He's unraveling.

Ryan must see it too because his fists tighten. "You're done, man. Put the damn crowbar down before we make you."

Andrew sneers. "Oh, you'd love that, wouldn't you?" His gaze flicks wildly between us, calculating, desperate—until it lands on Ava.

And my stomach drops.

Because I see the decision before he even makes it.

He lunges.

Ava yelps as Andrew snatches her wrist, dragging her forward in a messy, chaotic movement. Before I can reach them, he yanks her against his chest and presses the crowbar across her throat.

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