His Private Hell - Chapter 7: Chapter 7

The morning after felt like velvet wrapped around a blade.
Eella sat in Garrison’s suite, legs curled beneath her on a suede armchair, sipping espresso she couldn’t taste. The sun was too bright. The silence too loud. And the man standing at the window was too still.
“You didn’t sleep,” she said quietly.
He didn’t turn. “Neither did you.”
“We can’t keep doing this.”
“I know.”
But neither moved.
He finally turned, shirt half-buttoned, his face shadowed by more than fatigue. “Ronnie booked a flight to Berlin this morning. Private. Quiet.”
Eella blinked. “Why?”
“She’s not on any board meetings. Has no projects out there. No explanation.”
“She’s clean.”
“She’s cautious. You think that flash drive Astrid handed you was the only one?”
Eella stood. “You think Ronnie’s feeding her?”
“I think someone is feeding someone. And right now, she’s a ghost slipping out of the country while we burn.”
Eella set the espresso cup down. “Want me to stop her?”
“No. Let her go.”
She narrowed her eyes. “You’ve got something planned.”
He came closer, touched the chain around her neck, fingers brushing the skin beneath her collarbone. “We let her think she’s vanished. Then we follow. Quietly.”
“We?”
“I don’t trust anyone else.”
“You shouldn’t trust me either.”
“I don’t.” His thumb grazed her lower lip. “But I can’t stop needing you.”
She closed her eyes. “That’s the problem.”
His mouth brushed hers—gentle, hungry, like he wanted to swallow the chaos between them.
When she pulled away, her breath was shaking.
“Then let’s burn together.”
⸻
The private jet was opulence incarnate. White leather, crystal glasses, and champagne no one touched.
Eella wore black silk. Garrison wore a suit like armor. They didn’t speak much as the plane sliced through clouds.
Ronnie was already in Berlin, staying in a boutique hotel off Kurfürstendamm. Garrison booked a penthouse across the street under an alias. Cameras were in place within hours. Eella monitored every exit. Every text.
“She met with someone last night,” she said, scrolling through grainy surveillance. “Blonde, sharp heels, no facial ID match.”
Garrison leaned over her shoulder. “Astrid.”
“She dyed her hair.”
He smirked. “Of course she did.”
“She handed her a second drive.”
He stepped back, jaw clenched. “Then it wasn’t a bluff. There are duplicates.”
“How many?”
“Too many.”
They watched Ronnie pace her room on the screen, expression unreadable.
“She was always the innocent one,” Eella murmured.
“No one gets close to me without blood on their hands.”
“And yet you let me in.”
He looked at her then, slowly, like the admission tasted bitter and sweet. “You didn’t ask permission.”
Eella stood, turned to him. “What happens now?”
“We take the original files. We burn the backups. Then we find out who’s bankrolling Astrid.”
“And if it’s someone inside Ally’s?”
“Then I burn it all.”
She grabbed his tie, pulled him close. “You talk like fire is a solution.”
“For someone like me, it’s the only thing left.”
She kissed him—rough, urgent, angry.
His hands slid up her thighs. Her nails clawed at his chest.
When he took her on the polished desk overlooking Berlin, it wasn’t love—it was desperation.
Two people trying to outrun what they already were.
⸻
Ronnie made a mistake.
She left her burner phone in the hotel bar, tucked inside a linen napkin. The message history wasn’t long, but it was explosive.
Eella read aloud as Garrison stared at the screen:
RONNIE: “Delivery complete. Berlin confirmed.”
UNKNOWN: “Phase 2 begins. She doesn’t survive it.”
RONNIE: “What about him?”
UNKNOWN: “You’ll be protected. He won’t.”
Eella’s voice cracked. “They’re targeting me.”
Garrison took the phone and crushed it in his fist.
“No more hiding.”
“You said we let her think she escaped.”
“That was before she became a liability.”
“You’re going to kill her?”
“No,” he said darkly. “You are.”
She stared at him.
“You want me to do it.”
“No,” he said. “I want you to see what it costs to stand beside me.”
Her lips parted in protest, but he cut her off.
“She betrayed you. She sold your name to a leak designed to destroy us both. She’s not your friend anymore.”
Eella turned her face away. “Maybe she never was.”
He stepped behind her, mouth at her neck. “I’ll protect you. But only if you stop pretending there’s a way out of this.”
She turned, eyes blazing. “There has to be.”
He smiled. “Not for me. Maybe for you.”
She shoved him. “Don’t you dare martyr yourself.”
“I’m not a martyr,” he whispered. “I’m the villain in every story I’ve survived.”
⸻
That night, Eella met Ronnie alone.
She asked her to dinner. Ronnie smiled like nothing had changed, like they were still friends, like the betrayal wasn’t bleeding between them.
They sat beneath a canopy of lights in a quiet courtyard, jazz playing faintly.
“I missed this,” Ronnie said.
“Did you?” Eella asked, tone flat.
Ronnie froze. “What’s going on?”
“I saw the messages.”
Color drained from her face.
“You were going to hand me over,” Eella said. “Let them erase me.”
“It wasn’t like that—”
“Don’t lie. Not now.”
Ronnie’s hands trembled. “They offered me safety. Money. I didn’t know it would go this far.”
“You always knew what Garrison was capable of.”
“I was trying to survive!”
“So was I.”
They sat in silence for a long moment.
Then Eella leaned in. “I’m giving you one chance. One. Tell me who’s behind this.”
Ronnie’s voice cracked. “It’s Walter.”
Eella stilled.
“He made a deal with Astrid six months ago,” Ronnie whispered. “He wants the company. Wants Garrison out. He promised her a seat at the top if she helped.”
“And me?”
“You were collateral.”
Eella stood, tossed cash on the table, and leaned close.
“Leave Berlin tonight. Don’t look back. If I ever see you again, I won’t hesitate.”
Ronnie nodded, tears in her eyes.
But when Eella returned to the suite, Garrison was waiting with blood on his shirt.
She froze. “What happened?”
“She didn’t leave fast enough.”
Her heart stopped. “You said I could handle it.”
“You hesitated.”
“I warned her.”
“And she didn’t listen.”
“You killed her.”
He poured a drink. “No. But I let her die.”
“Where is she?”
“Gone.”
“You bastard.”
“I told you what this war costs. You don’t get to pick and choose your morality when you’re already drowning.”
She threw the glass at the wall. It shattered, like the last illusion between them.
“I don’t want to become like you.”
“Too late,” he said softly. “You already are.”
⸻
Later, when the night was cruel and quiet, Eella stood on the balcony alone.
Berlin glowed below, a thousand lights burning like guilt.
Garrison joined her, silent.
She didn’t look at him.
“Walter’s next,” she said.
“Yes.”
“And then?”
“Then we take back the company.”
“And us?”
He stepped behind her, wrapped his arms around her waist. “There is no us without blood on our hands.”
She leaned back against him.
“I know.”
His kiss was a brand.
And this time, she didn’t pull away.