I Told You To Run But You Didn't (Georgia) novel Chapter 37

Chapter 37

84%

Finished

Georgia’s POV

I stared at his face, trying to read the man behind the mask, but a sudden burst of loud, drunken laughter from the mansion shattered the moment.

A group of three men stumbled out onto the grand portico, their expensive suits rumpled, a bottle of amber liquid swinging from the youngest one’s hand.

The moment they saw Estevan, the laughter died in their throats. They scrambled to straighten their ties, to stand up straight, their faces a comical mask of feigned obriety and fear.

One of them, the eldest of the three, spoke, his voice tight. “Estevan… you’re back.”

“I am,” Estevan replied with a cold, sarcastic amusement “Surprised to see me at the home I own? I thought I’d check in to see how my dear brothers were upholding the family’s honor.” His eyes raked over them with utter disdain.

He gestured toward them with a lazy,’ dismissive wave of his hand. “Georgia, allow me to introduce my father’s… legacy. The bastard sons.”

He pointed to each in turn, his voice like a whip crack.

“That one is Arman. He’s twenty-eight and thinks he’s a strategist.”

“The quiet one is Leonardo, twenty-seven, who thinks silence makes him look smart.”

“And this one,” he said, nodding to the youngest, who was trying to hide the bottle behind his back, “is Matteo. He’s twenty-six, and he doesn’t think at all.”

He took a slow step toward them, and all three visibly flinched. “Day drinking, boys? How ambitious.”

Arman, trying to sound useful, cleared his throat. “We were, uh… celebrating the successful shipment at the port.”

“Celebrating my successful shipment, you mean,” Estevan corrected, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “A deal I brokered. While you were getting drunk on my scotch, in my house.” He leaned in, his voice full of menace. “You reek of failure and expensive liquor. It’s pathetic.”

He smiled then, a truly chilling sight. “But since you’re all so full of energy, you can put it to good use. You three will be skipping dinner tonight. Instead, you will report to the head groundskeeper. The west hedge is. overgrown. You will trim it.” He paused for effect. “With the manual shears. I expect perfection by sunrise.”

They stared at him, their faces a mixture of horror and umiliation, but they simply nodded. “Yes, Estevan.”

“Good,” he said, his voice returning to a normal, dismissive volume. “Now get out of my sight.”

The three of them practically fell over each other in their haste to disappear, leaving me alone on the driveway with the monster they called their brother,

A knot of unease tightened in my stomach. The evening was too quiet. “The guards,” I said, my voice low, my head snapping toward the main gate. “They’re not a their posts.”

Estevan was instantly alert, his casual demeanor gone, placed by the lethal stillness I’d seen in the basement. The massive iron gates, usually sealed shut, were slightly ajar.

川

O

1/3

11:43 Sat,

Chapter 37

84%

Finished

We moved together, our steps silent on the gravel, weapons drawn. The silence was heavy, unnatural. As we reached the gate, a dark figure dropped from the top of the stone archway, landing in a silent crouch.

He was tall, dressed in black tactical gear, his face hidde by a mask. He moved with a deadly grace, a blade flashing in his hand as he lunged-not for me, but for Estevan.

I intercepted him, my training taking over. The next thirty seconds were a brutal, chaotic dance of blocks, strikes, and parries.

He was strong, skilled, and filled with a relentless fury. In a desperate, close-quarters struggle, I hooked my fingers into the edge of his mask and tore it from his face.

My world stopped.

The face was older, harder, and a thin scar cut through one eyebrow, but it was a face I had seen every day of my childhood, a face I saw every night in my dreams.

“Zane!” The name was a choked, broken sob.

He didn’t even flinch, his cold eyes looking right through me as if I were a stranger. His focus was still on Estevan, his hand reaching for the pistol on his thigh.

The memory of my deal, my one condition, screamed through my mind: I can promise not to be the aggressor. Estevan wouldn’t kill him. But that meant…

My hand, shaking uncontrollably, raised my own Glock I aimed it squarely at my brother’s heart.

“W-Why?” The word was ripped from my soul, heavy with seven years of grief. “Zane, we thought you were dead! Mom and Dad… they died looking for you! They died of broken hearts!”

His face remained a mask of cold, hard rage. “They’re gone,” he said, his voice a stranger’s rasp. “This is what’s left. This is the mission.” He nodded his head toward Estevan. “He is the target. Now, for the last time, stand down, soldier.”

“I can’t,” I cried, tears streaming down my face. “I won’t let you do this!”

A touch of something-pity, maybe disgust-crossed his face. “You made a deal with the devi protecting the man who is the very reason our family is gone.”

My blood ran cold. “What are you talking about?”

“Put the gun down and walk away,” he commanded, ignoring my question. “Let me finish my job.”

“No!” I screamed, my finger tightening on the trigger. “I won’t let you!”

Estevan stepped forward, his own gun now held low but ready. “Who do you work for?!” he demanded.

Zane ignored him completely, his pistol still aimed at Estevan’s heart even as mine was aimed at his. In a blur of motion, Estevan’s gun was up, aimed squarely at my brother’s head. It was a deadly triangle.

“Is it worth it?” Estevan asked, his voice a low, dangerous purr. “Wasting seven years of your life hiding in the shadows, all for a suicide mission? Is your obsession with me really that strong?”

“Go to hell, Salvatore,” Zane snarled, his finger tightening on the trigger.

III

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify