Ryan’s POV
Sleep never came.
Not because of the threats.
Not because my accounts were frozen, my name erased, my future boxed in like a corpse waiting to be claimed.
Not even because Dominic LaRusso, my father, my creator, my greatest mistake, had made it clear he was ready to destroy anything that didn’t obey him.
Sleep refused me because every time I closed my eyes, I saw Juliet.
Not crying.
Not screaming.
Just standing there in that elevator, shoulders tight, lips pressed together, pain folded so neatly inside her chest that it almost looked like strength.
That was what haunted me.
By the time the sun crawled into the sky, I was pacing like a man losing his grip on reality.
My condo smelled like cold coffee and tension. Outside, the city moved on, indifferent. Inside, I was unraveling.
Luca was still passed out on my couch, sprawled in a way that suggested a crime scene rather than rest. One leg hung off the armrest. His hair stuck up in impossible directions. One sock was missing, and I had no intention of finding out where it went.
I grabbed a pillow and threw it at his head.
He groaned, rolled over, and spoke into the cushion. “If that’s not breakfast or a miracle, I reject it.”
“It’s noon.”
“My dreams operate on a higher timeline.”
I ignored him and turned back to my laptop.
I had spent the entire night digging.
Not the clean file Dominic shoved in my face, the one stripped down, clinical, cold, but the messy truth beneath it. The pieces Luca and I pulled from old records, forgotten systems, quiet sources.
And the deeper I went, the tighter my chest became.
Juliet hadn’t just been sick.
She’d been surviving.
Emergency room visits with vague notes. Long gaps where records should’ve existed. A pattern of changing hospitals, doctors, even cities, never staying long enough to be tracked.
This wasn’t secrecy.
It was escape.
She wasn’t hiding something ugly.
She was running from something dangerous.
And my father thought those gaps were leverage.
A loud snore broke through my thoughts.
“Get up,” I said sharply, snapping the laptop shut.
Luca cracked one eye. “You look like a man about to commit several felonies.”
“I might.”
“That’s my cue.” He sat up, grabbed a shirt from the floor, sniffed it, grimaced, then pulled it on anyway. “Alright. What nightmare are we handling before coffee?”
I hesitated.
Because saying it out loud meant admitting how far this had gone.
“My father isn’t trying to control Juliet,” I said finally. “He’s trying to destroy her.”
Luca blinked. Once. Then twice. “Okay. I need context. Preferably before noon.”
So I told him.
Not every detail, some things still scraped too close to the bone, but enough. The medical files. The threats. The account freeze. The board removal. The way Dominic spoke about Juliet like she was collateral damage instead of a human being.
When I finished, Luca leaned forward, elbows on his knees, expression stripped of humor.
“Ryan,” he said quietly.
“What.”
“When you asked for help, I thought we were talking damage control. Not toppling a dynasty.”
“I’m not trying to overthrow him.”
“He thinks you are.”
That truth landed heavy.
“I didn’t start this,” I muttered.
“No one ever does.”
I dragged a hand down my face, exhaustion pressing into my skull. “I need to find Juliet today. I have to tell her everything, before he gets to her first.”
“Then I’m coming with you,” Luca said, standing.
“No.”
“Not happening.”
“This isn’t your fight.”
He stepped in front of me. “You dragged me into emotional warfare at three a.m. You don’t get to sideline me before the real danger starts.”
I clenched my jaw.
I hated that he was right.
But I was too raw to argue.
I grabbed my keys. “Let’s go.”
(THE SEARCH)
Juliet didn’t answer.
Not my texts.
Not my calls.
Not the voicemail I left and immediately regretted because I sounded like a man drowning and reaching for air.
Her phone was off.
Her apartment building refused to let me up.
Her workplace said she called in sick.
Every door closed.
Every answer wrong.
Every instinct screaming she’s scared.
We drove for hours.
Luca filled the silence when it got unbearable, bad jokes, worse singing, commentary on traffic, pointing out dogs in sweaters like it was vital information.
It helped. Barely.
Because every minute that passed tightened something inside my chest.
By evening, we circled back to her neighborhood.
And then I saw her.
Sitting alone by a public fountain. Hoodie pulled over her head. Hands hidden inside her sleeves. Staring at the water like it might tell her what to do next.
My heart stuttered.
“Go,” Luca murmured. “I’ll stay back.”
I didn’t hesitate.
(JULIET)
She didn’t look at me when I sat beside her.
Her body was tight. Guarded. Like she was bracing for impact.
“Juliet,” I said softly.
She inhaled sharply. “I don’t want to talk.”
“I know,” I said. “But I...”
“No.” She stood suddenly. “I figured it out.”
My stomach dropped. “Figured what out?”
She turned, eyes burning, not with anger, but with hurt sharpened into something dangerous.
“Your father is trying to ruin me.”
There it was.
The thing I’d been racing against.
“I’m so sorry,” I whispered. “I never meant...”
“You should’ve told me,” she snapped. “The first moment he touched my records. The first threat. The first lie.”
“I was trying to protect you.”
“Well, you failed,” she said, voice cracking. “Because now I know what he’s capable of.”
That hurt more than anything Dominic ever did.
“I can fix this,” I said, stepping closer.
“Don’t,” she whispered, stepping back. “Don’t promise things you can’t control.”
“I won’t let him hurt you.”
“You already did,” she said quietly. “By bringing me into his world.”
Silence fell between us.
“Please don’t contact me again,” she said. “I can survive pain. I can’t survive your family.”
And she walked away.
Not running.
Not crying.
Just walking.
Like she’d already buried us.
I stood there long after she disappeared, fists clenched, chest hollow.
Luca approached slowly. “Ryan…”
“She thinks I’m part of this,” I said numbly.
“She’s terrified.”
“Because he terrified her.”
Something inside me snapped.
“I’m going to destroy everything he’s using against her,” I said softly. “Every file. Every connection. Every lie.”
Luca swallowed. “That means war.”
“I know.”
“You could lose everything.”
“I already have.”
“So what now?”
I looked back at the empty street where Juliet vanished.
“Now,” I said, voice steady, dangerous, “I pull every thread he never wanted me to touch.”
And somewhere deep inside, something changed.
This wasn’t fear.
This wasn’t obedience.
This was rage.
And Dominic LaRusso had just taught me what happens when you threaten the one thing a man cannot replace.
