THE BILLIONAIRE'S REDEMPTION

Sophia's POV

Sophia stood in the dimly lit hallway of Ethan's penthouse, her mind racing. The tension in the air was thick, suffocating, and she couldn't ignore the fact that she had just been pulled deeper into something she hadn't even begun to understand. 

Ethan's instructions were simple: pack a bag, keep your head down, and get out. 

But as she stuffed clothes into her suitcase, a gnawing feeling of unease settled in the pit of her stomach. The shadows were closing in, and she couldn't shake the feeling that she wasn't just dealing with a corporate scandal. There was something darker at play here—something far more dangerous. 

She slammed the suitcase shut, brushing her hands over her jeans as if the motion would ease the growing anxiety. 

"Ready?" Ethan's voice broke through her thoughts. 

Sophia turned to find him standing in the doorway, his face drawn and tense. There was a sharp edge to his expression, one that told her he wasn't just worried about the people after them. He was worried about her. 

That thought stung in ways she didn't want to acknowledge. 

"Let's go," she said, forcing the words out, trying to sound more confident than she felt. 

They moved quickly, their footsteps echoing in the otherwise silent apartment as they made their way down the stairwell. Ethan was in front, his posture rigid, every movement precise, like a man prepared for battle. 

Sophia, however, couldn't shake the feeling that everything she thought she knew was slipping away. She was no longer just chasing a story. She was in the middle of something far bigger. 

Something she might not survive. 

The drive to Ravenswood was quiet, the city lights fading as they left the heart of New York behind. Ethan didn't say a word, his eyes focused on the road, his hands gripping the wheel with a force that made her nervous. 

Sophia stared out of the window, her mind replaying the events that had led them here. She had thought that getting the truth about Rachel Turner's death would be enough. She had thought that exposing Blackwood Industries and Ethan's involvement would bring her the closure she needed. 

But now? Now she was more tangled in this mess than ever before, and with every passing mile, she felt herself falling further into the abyss. 

"What's Ravenswood?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. 

Ethan's eyes flicked to her briefly before he focused back on the road. "An old research facility. It's been abandoned for years, but Langston's hiding out there. If anyone has the answers we need, it's him." 

"Why not just go to the authorities?" Sophia pressed. 

Ethan's lips twisted into a bitter smile. "The authorities are part of the problem. If we're going to get out of this alive, we need to do it on our own." 

She nodded, though doubt gnawed at her insides. This wasn't a story anymore. This wasn't about finding justice for Rachel Turner or exposing corruption. This was survival. 

And if she was going to make it out of this alive, she had to trust Ethan. 

But that trust was like a knife edge. Sharp. Unforgiving. 

The car slowed as they approached Ravenswood, the once-impressive research center now nothing more than a crumbling structure surrounded by overgrown weeds. The building loomed in the distance like a ghost, and Sophia couldn't shake the feeling that they were walking into a trap. 

Ethan parked the car a few hundred yards away from the entrance, the only sound the low hum of the engine as he killed the ignition. 

"We're close," he muttered, checking the clip in his gun before tucking it into his waistband. 

Sophia's pulse quickened at the sight of the weapon. It was real now. 

"Stay behind me," Ethan said, his voice cold and commanding. 

Sophia didn't argue. She had no choice but to follow him into the darkened maze of the abandoned facility. 

The building was silent except for the occasional creak of metal and the whisper of wind through broken windows. As they moved deeper into the shadows, Sophia's senses were on high alert. 

They reached a hallway that led to what used to be the main lab. The walls were covered in peeling paint, and the air was thick with dust. But what caught her attention wasn't the decay of the place—it was the unmistakable hum of electricity. 

Ethan froze, his eyes narrowing as he listened. "Someone's here," he whispered. 

Sophia's breath caught in her throat. "How many?" 

"Too many," Ethan muttered, his hand reaching for her wrist. "We need to move." 

They turned on their heels, but it was too late. The sound of footsteps echoed behind them, and Sophia's heart raced. 

Ethan's grip tightened around her wrist as he pulled her toward a side door, but it slammed open before they could reach it. A man in a dark suit stepped into the hallway, a gun raised and pointed straight at Ethan. 

"Going somewhere?" the man asked, his voice cold. 

Ethan didn't flinch. "You don't know who you're dealing with." 

The man smirked. "I know exactly who you are, Blackwood. And I'm here to make sure you don't make it out alive." 

Sophia's chest tightened as Ethan's eyes darkened, his jaw clenched. She could see the wheels turning in his mind, and she knew he was calculating their next move. 

Then, without warning, he lunged. 

The man barely had time to react before Ethan tackled him to the ground, the two of them tumbling across the dusty floor. Gunfire rang out, the sharp crack of bullets slicing through the air. 

Sophia ducked instinctively, her heart racing as she watched the chaos unfold. She needed to do something—anything—but her limbs felt frozen in place. 

Ethan's hands were around the man's throat now, squeezing with a lethal precision. The man gasped, his hands scrabbling for the gun at his side, but it was too late. Ethan's grip tightened, and the man's body went limp. 

He released him with a final shove, breathing heavily as he stood. "Let's go," Ethan said, his voice rough. "Now." 

Sophia didn't need to be told twice. She followed him through the side door, heart pounding in her chest. The sound of sirens was growing closer, and the weight of everything pressing down on her felt unbearable. 

But she couldn't stop. Not now.

Because the truth—whatever it was—was within her grasp. And there was no turning back.