𝐈𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐒 , ᶻᵃʸⁿ ᵐᵃˡⁱᵏ

windy city

The wheels hit the runway with a slight jolt, jolting me awake from the half-asleep haze I'd been in during the flight. I rubbed my eyes, trying to shake the lingering exhaustion. Beside me, Liam was already unbuckling his seatbelt, his expression set and unreadable as he glanced out the window at the gray Chicago skyline.

"Welcome to the Windy City," I said, attempting a smile, but he barely glanced at me, giving a curt nod instead. I swallowed my discomfort, reminded of the tension that had been hanging over us since last night.

I gathered my things and followed Liam through the crowded aisle of the plane. We made our way off the aircraft, my suitcase trailing behind me, and I couldn't help but steal glances at him, trying to read his mood. His jaw was clenched, and his eyes were distant, like he was somewhere far away.

As soon as we stepped into the terminal, Liam took charge, ushering me towards the baggage claim with a brisk efficiency. His silence was unnerving, but I didn't dare ask what was on his mind. I knew better than to push him when he got like this—closed off and focused, as if he was fighting some inner battle.

"So, where to first?" I asked, attempting to break the tension.

"Hotel," he replied shortly. "Jenna's got everything arranged. We'll head straight there, and you can rest before your interview tomorrow."

I nodded, though a pang of frustration tightened in my chest. It was as if he was intentionally keeping me at a distance. I wanted to demand he tell me what was wrong, to stop shutting me out, but instead, I kept quiet, dragging my suitcase beside his long strides.

We grabbed our bags from the conveyor belt and headed for the exit. Outside, a blast of cold air hit me, a stark contrast to the warmth of LA. I shivered and pulled my coat tighter, falling in step behind Liam, who was already signaling for a car.

The ride to the hotel was quiet, filled only with the hum of the city's traffic. I tried to focus on the flashing lights outside, the unfamiliar streets that seemed to rush by in a blur. But every few minutes, my eyes drifted back to Liam, who stared straight ahead, his hands gripping the edges of the seat so tightly his knuckles were white.

Whatever he was dealing with, I had a feeling it was only just beginning.

𝄞
LIAM:

The car ride was silent, but my mind was anything but. As the city lights blurred past, my grip on the seat's edge tightened. I couldn't afford to screw this up. Bringing Serena to Chicago's HQ was part of the plan, but the deeper I got, the more it felt like I was leading her straight into the lion's den.

I had a week—well, less than that now—to gain her trust enough to convince her that the meeting was just another networking opportunity, a chance to elevate her career. But I knew better. This wasn't about her career; it was about control, and my father's insatiable need to have power over everyone and everything.

I glanced at Serena out of the corner of my eye. She looked out the window, oblivious to the storm brewing right beside her. I'd seen the way she lit up when she talked about her future projects, the way her eyes sparkled when she was excited about a new opportunity. And now, I was about to use that enthusiasm, that trust, to get her to walk into a place where I couldn't guarantee her safety.

I was in too deep. I knew that, and maybe that's what scared me the most—the realization that there was no turning back. Not now. Not with the kind of leverage my father had over me, and certainly not with the footage they already had. One wrong move and Serena's life—and mine—would be splattered across every tabloid and news outlet in the country.

I needed to make this work, even if it meant lying to her, even if it meant dragging her deeper into the mess I'd tried so hard to shield her from. My jaw clenched as the weight of it all bore down on me, and I felt the familiar pang of guilt twist in my chest.