Chapter 124
Chapter 124:
“You don’t!” Dallas roared. “Put it down p>
Anson hesitated, his gaze moving between Jared and Eliza. He saw the terror in her eyes. Slowly, reluctantly, he lowered the revolver.
“Kick it into the water,” Jared ordered.
Anson kicked the gun. It skittered across the concrete and splashed into the dark river below.
“Now the bags,” Jared said to Dallas.
Dallas kicked the duffel bags forward and slid the briefcase after them. They came to rest ten feet from Jared.
а𝘥𝖽iс𝘁і𝘃𝘦 ո𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗹𝗌 o𝗻 ѕ.𝖼𝗼𝘮
“The money and the bonds,” Dallas said. “Take it. Leave p>
Jared didn’t look at the money. He looked at Dallas — at the power radiating off him, the tailored shirt, the unbowed defiance in his posture.
“Kneel,” Jared commanded.
The wind whistled through the cranes.
Dallas went still. He was a king. Kings did not kneel. He had built an empire on never bowing to anyone.
Jared pressed the gun harder into Eliza’s temple. She whimpered — a small, broken sound.
Dallas dropped.
His knees struck the concrete hard. He didn’t flinch. He didn’t look away. He knelt in the dirt with his eyes locked on Jared’s face.
“You too, Hyde,” Jared said, swinging the gun toward Anson.
Anson stared at the filthy ground. He looked at Eliza. Trembling with rage and humiliation, he knelt beside Dallas.
“Look at the high and mighty,” Jared gloated, pulling out his phone with his free hand and hitting record. “You destroyed my life for a rounding error. Now I own yours p>
“You have what you came for,” Dallas said, his voice low and dangerous. “Let her walk p>
“I’m going to kill you all,” Jared said, with the casual ease of a man deciding what to have for dinner. “But first — the husband chooses.” He smiled, a grotesque expression in the dim light. “Her — or him?” He leveled the gun at Anson.
“Take me,” Dallas said instantly. “Let them go p>
“Wrong answer,” Jared growled. “I hate martyrs p>
He moved the gun away from Eliza’s head and trained it on Anson.
Eliza’s eyes dropped to Dallas’s hand resting on his thigh. His fingers were tapping a restless rhythm against the fabric of his trousers. Tap-tap — tap-tap-tap. It wasn’t a code she knew, but a language she felt in her bones. It was the rhythm of his impatience — the sound he made just before he acted, in the boardroom or in traffic. It meant: The waiting is over.
It was a signal.
Do something.
Jared’s attention had shifted to Anson. His grip on her loosened slightly as he prepared to fire.
Eliza didn’t think. She didn’t calculate. She reacted.
She lifted her foot — clad in the heavy leather boot Dallas had bought her for the restoration site — and brought it down on Jared’s instep with every ounce of strength she had.
Bone crunched.
Jared howled, the sound ripping through the night. His aim wavered.
“Tango is destabilized — take the shot!” Dallas screamed into his wrist comm, launching himself forward from his knees.