Chapter 229

Ella

As I sat there, bound to the chair in the dim, grimy garage, I kept pleading with Jet, desperately trying to reach whatever shred of humanity he might have left. Even though my face was streaked with tears and my voice was shaking, I kept sobbing, pleading, begging him to see reason.

“Jet, you have to see logic here,” I said. “You don’t have to do what they’re telling you to do. You’re your own person; I know you don’t want this. I can see it in your eyes.”

Jet’s eyes narrowed, and he turned away, not saying a word. His posture was resolute, but I knew better.

I could see the cracks in his facade starting to form already, especially at the mention of his daughter. His eyes, at first so cold and calculating, flickered with something that resembled understanding, or perhaps even regret.

But the clock was ticking, and if Marina had been correct, Logan would be here soon—and he would be walking to his death. I needed to stop this before it was too late.

“You don’t have to do this, Jet,” I implored, my voice quivering with fear and helplessness. “You can walk away from all of this. I told you, my father has money, he’s got connections. You’ll be safe. Marina and Harry, they’re just using you. They don’t care about anyone but themselves.”

Jet remained silent, his gaze fixed on some distant point somewhere in the room. I could tell that my words were having an effect on him, but he was also battling an internal struggle of his own, clearly torn between following orders and listening to his conscience.

“Think about your daughter, Jet,” I continued, my voice softening. “She’s out there, somewhere, probably thinking about you. Would she be proud of her father if she knew what you were about to do? Would she understand?”

Jet’s eyes met mine, and for a moment, I saw the flicker of pain and conflict. He shifted uncomfortably where he stood, his fingers nervously adjusting the hat he was wearing.

“I can’t just walk away,” he muttered, almost to himself. “It’s not that simple. I told you, my daughter’s safety is at risk here, too. You’re not the only one with fear holding you back.”

“What’s your daughter’s name?” I insisted, seizing the moment. “If you let me out of here, the very first thing I’ll do is contact my father. He’s got connections all over; your daughter will be safe, I’ll promise.”

Jet’s expression hardened, but the conflict in his eyes remained steadfast. “But Marina and Harry, they won’t let me go,” he said. “They have their claws in too deep. I need to do this, not just so my daughter can be safe, but also so I can see her again.”

“But that’s where you’re wrong,” I said, my voice firm. “They only have power over you if you let them. I can help you break free from their grip. We have the resources and the influence. We can offer you protection, a new life. One that includes your daughter, and she’ll never even need to know about any of this.”

Jet took a step closer, his eyes searching mine. “And what about the money?” he asked. “Marina and Harry promised me enough so that my daughter would never have to work a day in her life.”

I swallowed hard, knowing this was my last chance to sway him. “Money won’t be an issue,” I promised him. “Whatever you want, you’ll get it. Money, a good job, a new house if you want it. Just name your price.”

For a moment, Jet looked torn, his gaze shifting between me and the door. Then, his expression softened, and he let out a sigh. “Shit. I never wanted any of this,” he admitted, his voice barely more than a whisper. “I just wanted to race, to be with my daughter. But things got complicated. The fucking mafia…”

“I understand completely,” I said gently, feeling the utmost amount of empathy for his situation. “But you have a choice now. You can choose a different path, Jet.”

Just then, the sound of sirens and engines revving pierced the silence, jolting us both out of our reverie. My heart raced, terror gripping me as I realized Logan was close, unaware of the danger he was about to walk straight into.

“Logan’s here,” I gasped, the panic rising in my voice. “Jet, you have to stop the bombs. Please, you can’t let him walk in here!”

Jet’s eyes widened, and he glanced toward the entrance. “I can’t stop the bombs now,” he said. “It’s too late. But I can get you out of here.”

Before I could protest, Jet was descending upon me, a knife in his hand. My breath hitched, fear paralyzing me for a moment. But instead of harming me, he sliced through the ropes that bound me, freeing my wrists.

Without a word, Jet scooped me up in his arms, carrying me toward a back door I hadn’t noticed before. My mind raced, disbelief and relief flooding through me.

He kicked the door open and rushed outside, where a car was parked in the shadows. He opened the passenger door and gently placed me inside.

“Where are you taking me?” I asked, struggling to break free, but it was no use due to the drugs in my system and the lack of my wolf.

“Away from here,” he said. “We’ll start over fresh, Ella.”

My brow furrowed, and I struggled harder. “We? Jet, what are you—”

But it was too late. Before I could finish, he was throwing me into the back of the car. As he closed the door, I scrambled upright and tried opening the door, only to discover that child lock was on.

“Jet, let me go!” I pleaded. “This wasn’t part of the deal!”

Jet paid me no mind. Instead, he jumped into the driver’s seat, starting the car with a roar. I turned to him, my eyes pleading. “Jet, what are you—”

“It’ll all be over soon,” Jet said as he put the car in gear and began speeding away from the race track, veering off into the desert.

Panic took over me then. Logan was about to walk into a trap, into a building strapped with explosives. A building that I was being pulled away from, against my will. Screaming, I banged on the window, trying to catch a glimpse of Logan’s car.

“I need to warn him!” I shrieked, tugging on the door handle to no avail. “Please, Jet, let me go!”

But Jet never stopped, never even looked at me in the rearview mirror. As we descended into the dark desert, the race track slowly faded into the distance.

And then there it was, the familiar red color of Logan’s beloved car coming into view. He didn’t see me. My heart ached, knowing he was walking into a trap, and I was powerless to warn him.

As the car sped away, I looked back, catching one last glimpse of the race track where Logan was heading. Tears streamed down my face, fear and guilt overwhelming me.

I had escaped, but at what cost?