Undressed By His Arrogance

Winn climbed into the ambulance with Sylvia.

Ivy followed in her car, her body guard driving while she curled into the seat, her pulse thundering in her throat. She kept one hand pressed to her stomach, willing herself not to cry. But it was impossible. What just happened felt like a bad dream.

Her eyes stayed glued to the ambulance in front of them, praying—desperately—that Sylvia would hold on long enough to for the doctors to save her.

All through the ride, Winn’s mind was a violent storm—thoughts colliding, crashing, breaking apart only to slam into him again. Elizabeth is alive. The sentence looped in his head. His Elizabeth. His baby. The daughter he had mourned, the child whose empty nursery had haunted him.

He stared down at Sylvia, barely recognizing the pale, trembling woman on the stretcher. Her breaths were shallow. Yet her fingers—those slim, soft fingers—kept twitching around his. Winn held them tight, both terrified she’d slip away and selfishly needing her there because she was the one tethering him to the truth.

"I’m right here," he whispered. Sirens wailed. Every bump in the road sent another jolt of panic through him.

He bent over Sylvia, brushing a blood-damp curl away from her cheek. "Just hold on, Syl. Please. You cant leave me when I am still mad at you."

The ambulance jolted to a stop, doors flying open, paramedics yelling orders as they pulled Sylvia out. Winn followed, numb.

*****

When Sam arrived at the hospital, he was practically hovering, feet barely touching the floor, heart racing far ahead of him.

All he wanted—all he needed—was to see his granddaughter alive and well. The moment Winn called, Sam had gone into mission mode. But by the time he reached the hospital, Ivy’s stuttering half-sentences had painted a picture of absolute chaos.

He spotted Ivy immediately in the waiting room. She sat on the edge of a chair, elbows on her knees, fingers trembling as they threaded through Winn’s. The two of them leaned into each other unconsciously, bodies drawn together—two people tangled in the same fear, same adrenaline, same grief-soaked hope.

"Baby?" Sam called.

Ivy sprang to her feet. She covered the distance between her and Sam in two unsteady steps, nearly stumbling before throwing herself into his arms. Her fingers clutched at his shirt.

"Grandpa..."

Sam’s arms went around her instantly—strong, protective, trembling just the slightest bit with the aftershock of fear.

"You’re okay. You’re okay, baby. God, you’re okay," Sam breathed, relief flooding through him so violently he felt light-headed.

He pulled back only enough to look into her face. "How’s the girl?"

Ivy swiped at her swollen eyes. "We are still waiting to hear. They rushed her straight into surgery. Nobody’s said anything yet."

Sam nodded, jaw tightening. "And Sharona?"

"She got shot," Ivy replied. "She’s being treated right now. But she’s in police custody."

"In this hospital?" Sam’s eyebrow arched.

"Yes."

"The police are with her?" His cane tapped once on the floor—an unconscious tell that his temper was rising.

Ivy nodded again. "Two officers. I saw them."

Sam exhaled through his nose. "I’ll be right back." He cupped her cheek, thumb brushing away a stray tear. "Go stay with Winn. He needs you. I just need to make a few calls."

He leaned in and kissed her forehead.

He turned away, leaning on his cane now as he felt the discomfort of his earlier racing. He made for the exit. Every step was calm, controlled, frightening. Ivy watched him go, a shiver racing down her spine.

It was time the city remembered what it meant to cross an Everest.

Sam had given the younger generation room—time to grow, time to handle things their own way—but all they’d managed was to circle the same problems, dance around the same enemies. Ivy, Winn, even Evans... they were too soft in the areas where Sam had long gone sharp.

And Sharona?

Sharona had made the mistake of touching an Everest bloodline—twice. He still didn’t know that the ’accident’ a few weeks ago wasn’t really an accident. If not, he would have counted it as thrice.

He stepped through the sliding doors, the breeze sweeping his coat aside. He straightened to his full height, a dangerous calm settling over him.

He pulled out his phone and dialed a number that almost nobody had access to. A number he hadn’t used in years.

The police commissioner picked up on the second ring.

Sharona Priestley was about to vanish without a trace.

The Everests were done playing nice.

*****

When Evans got the news of what had happened in New York, he was already at the airport heading back.

He didn’t know whether to be grateful Sylvia had gone.

He didn’t know if Sylvia had succeeded in telling Winn everything.

But he did know one thing:

If Sylvia died... Winn would explode from the inside out.

Winn who was already stretched thin from betrayal, heartbreak, and a lifetime of holding himself together—would finally combust. He would do something reckless, something stupid, something violent... something that could cost him his freedom.

Sylvia had saved his niece’s life.

Now Evans needed to save Winn’s.

And there was only one person he knew—one person who could help.

*****

Ivy and Winn stood up at the exact same second when the surgeon walked toward them. They had been sitting side by side for nearly three hours, their fingers interlocked tightly, both of them too shaken to let go. Even when they weren’t looking at each other, they held on.

They rose slowly, stiffly, instinctively bracing themselves for whatever was coming. Ivy could hear Winn’s sharp intake of breath; Winn could feel Ivy’s hand tremble in his. They exchanged a quick glance, silent but full of dread.

The surgeon’s face told them everything before he even opened his mouth.

It was just past midnight. The hospital corridor was quieter now.

Sam had gone home hours ago, promising to check in.

Now she wished he were here. She wished someone older, steadier, more experienced in grief could stand for Winn.

The surgeon stopped in front of them and removed his mask. He sighed—a slow, heavy exhale that twisted Ivy’s stomach into knots.

"I’m sorry, Mr. Kane. We did all we could but the bullet nicked a major artery..."

The surgeon kept talking, his lips moving, but the rest became nothing more than a distant hum. The world blurred at the edges. Winn’s ears rang. His breath left him in one sharp exhale, and then silence swallowed him whole.

Beside him, Ivy collapsed into him as if her legs had given out. Her fingers twisted into his shirt, her face pressing into his chest. He felt her sobs before he heard them.

But his body stayed still, rigid. Frozen.

Something cold and poisonous slid into Winn’s bloodstream. A clarity so sharp it felt holy.

This was it.

This was his destiny.

This was why he was born in this cursed bloodline, forged in a house of monsters.

To end Tom Kane.

To rid the world of that filth permanently, no matter the cost.

The woman in his arms lifted her face, both palms cupping his jaw, forcing him to look at her.

"Winn...Winn, I’m here. See me. Please."

Her eyes—wet, terrified, fierce—pulled him back from whatever abyss he was spiraling into.

He exhaled roughly. "I’m fine...I’m fine," he repeated, as if saying it again made it truer.

Ivy didn’t believe a single syllable. Her hands slid down his arms, gripping his wrists, refusing to let him disappear into himself.

"Tell me what you need," she whispered. "Whatever it is, whatever you want... just tell me. Please."

Winn tore his gaze from Ivy and looked at Reese.

"Reese," he said quietly, "escort her home. I’ll take an Uber."

Reese’s spine straightened, as if insulted by the idea. "I’m sorry, boss. But right now, you need me."

"I’m not leaving you!" Ivy cried.

Winn lifted his hand and ran it through her hair. His fingers slid down to her neck, then her shoulder, thumb brushing her tear-soaked cheek.

God, he loved her.

Loved her enough to want her far from what came next.

"I love you," he murmured. "And I will not lie to you. I just need to be alone. Sylvia and I... we were not on the best of terms before..."

"I’m sorry, Winn. Do you want me to call Anna?"

"No," he murmured. "I would rather tell her in person in the morning. Don’t want her blood pressure spiking again."

Ivy nodded. "Let’s drop you at home then before I head home."

"Okay. Fine. Fine."

They moved toward the exit. The four of them walked in a slow, staggered formation—Reese behind, Ivy’s bodyguard leading, Ivy in the middle clinging to Winn’s arm.

They reached Ivy’s car. Her bodyguard held the door open. They all climbed in—Reese in the front seat, stiff-backed and alert; the bodyguard driving with both hands gripping the wheel; Ivy and Winn in the back, shoulder-to-shoulder.