The stepbrother I shouldn't want

Chapter 24: Chapter 24: Car Heat

"Walk."

The man in the gray suit didn’t speak again until we reached the street. His gun stayed low, tucked against his thigh, his finger resting on the trigger guard. Casual. Practiced.

A black SUV idled at the curb. The back doors hung open. Lucian stepped in front of me, his shoulder blocking my chest.

"She’s not coming," he said.

The man raised the gun a fraction. Not at Lucian. At me. "Both of you. Now."

Lucian’s hand found my lower back. He pushed me toward the vehicle gently, but I felt his fingers tremble through my sweater. I climbed in. He followed. The doors slammed. Locks clicked.

The driver never looked back. The man in gray sat up front, gun resting on his thigh, eyes fixed on the road. The city slid past the tinted windows in silence.

Lucian’s hand found mine on the leather seat. His palm was ice. I squeezed once. He didn’t look at me. His jaw was locked tight, the muscle jumping beneath his skin.

I was scared. My mouth tasted like copper. My knees wouldn’t stop bouncing. I pressed my free hand against my thigh, but the tremor moved to my stomach.

The SUV turned onto the highway, then off, then onto side streets I didn’t recognize. I stopped tracking the turns. The only thing that mattered was the gun in the front seat and the fact that they’d said Amara’s name like it was a bookmark in a ledger.

Lucian’s thumb traced slow circles on my knuckles. Not to comfort me. To memorize me. I turned my head. Our eyes met in the dark. His were red rimmed, exhausted, and something else... furious. Not at them. At himself.

"I’m sorry," he mouthed.

I shook my head. "Not your fault."

He looked away. His grip tightened until my fingers ached.

⸻

Eventually, the SUV slowed. We pulled into a cracked parking lot. An abandoned warehouse complex. No lights. No other cars. Just rusted metal and broken windows. The driver killed the engine.

"Out," the man in gray said.

We climbed out. The air was freezing. Lucian stayed close enough that his shoulder brushed mine. The man gestured toward a metal door.

"Walk."

Inside, the warehouse was hollow. Concrete floors. Rusted beams. A single bare bulb hung over a folding table and two chairs. Another man waited there, older, heavier, wearing a dark wool coat. He looked up and smiled. It didn’t reach his eyes.

"Lucian." His voice was gravel and honey. "And the girl." His eyes moved over me. "The one from the lab. The one who looked my men in the eye and sent them away."

Lucian stepped forward. "She’s not part of this. Let her go. I’ll stay."

"You’ll both stay until I’m satisfied." The older man nodded at the chairs. "Sit."

The metal was cold through my jeans. I sat. Lucian sat beside me. The man in gray remained behind us. I didn’t look back, but I felt the gun like a hand on my neck.

The older man folded his scarred hands on the table. "Noah is alive. For now. You already know the price. Full balance. That hasn’t changed."

"How much extra?" Lucian asked.

The man smiled. "The interest moved. You involved a civilian. You ran. You hid in motels like a child. That costs more than diamonds."

"I have the cash. I have the ring. I’ll bring everything Friday."

"Friday was yesterday." He leaned back. "And the ring won’t cover the new balance. Not even close."

Lucian’s hand found mine under the table. His palm was sweating. "Then what do you want?"

The man’s eyes slid to me. "She’s pretty. Brave too. Lying to armed men at twenty two? That takes something special."

"Leave her alone," Lucian said. His voice dropped to a growl. "She’s my stepsister. She doesn’t know anything. She was in the wrong place."

"Was she?"

The man stood and walked around the table. He stopped behind me. I stared at the rusted beam across the room and counted my heartbeats. One, two, three, four. Too fast.

He leaned down. His breath smelled like cigarettes and sweet coffee. "I think she knows exactly what you are, Lucian. I think she knows you’re a thief and a liar and a man who’s selling his mother’s memory to keep a deadbeat alive." He paused. "And I think that makes her valuable."

Lucian shot to his feet. "Don’t..."

The man in gray moved fast. The gun barrel pressed against Lucian’s temple. He froze, hands raised, chest heaving.

"Sit down," the older man said.

Lucian sat. Slowly. The gun stayed on him.

The older man returned to his chair. "Here’s the new arrangement. You bring the full balance, cash, assets, everything, by noon tomorrow. If you don’t, we take the girl."

My stomach dropped.

"You can’t," Lucian said. His voice was ragged. "She’s not..."

"Collateral," the man finished. "She stays here. Comfortable. Safe. Until you pay. And if you don’t pay by Friday?" He shrugged. "Then she works the debt off. However we see fit."

I felt my face go cold, then hot. Anger flooded my mouth, metallic and bright. "I’m a medical student. I have a name. I’m not a wallet you can empty."

The man laughed. "See? Brave. I like brave." He looked at Lucian. "Bring the money. All of it. Or she stays. And Lucian? If you go to the police, if you tell Daddy, if you do anything stupid?" He leaned forward. "We burn the Carter house down. With Amara inside. Do you understand?"

Lucian nodded. His face was gray. "I understand."

"Good." The man stood. "Take him to the car. Let him drive home. The girl stays."

"No." Lucian grabbed my hand. "I’m not leaving her."

"You are." The man nodded at the gray suit. "Or we break your legs and you still leave her. Your choice."

The gray suit grabbed Lucian’s arm. Lucian resisted. His eyes found mine. In them I saw every apology he’d swallowed, every wall he’d built, every secret he’d kept to keep me safe.

"Eliora," he breathed.

"Go," I said. My voice didn’t shake. "Get the money. Come back."

"Eliora..."

"Go."

They dragged him toward the door. He fought. He cursed. His shoe scraped the concrete, leaving a black mark. Then the door opened, and the cold rushed in, and they shoved him outside.

The door slammed.

⸻

I sat alone at the metal table. The older man smiled at me. The bare bulb buzzed overhead. My hands were finally still.

"Comfortable?" he asked.

"Go to hell."

He laughed again. He pulled out a phone, typed something, then turned the screen toward me.

A photograph. My mother’s house. The blue door. The bedroom light on upstairs.

Beneath it, a new message:

She’s home. Want us to knock?

My blood turned to ice.

The man set the phone on the table and pushed it toward me.

"Your move, brave girl."

Visit and read more novel to help us update chapter quickly. Thank you so much!