Cole Turner is gone. My father is dead. And I'm standing in the wreckage of everything I thought I knew about justice.
Hendricks’s composed voice comes through the comms. “Alpha Actual to Recovery Team. Compound secure. Hostiles neutralized. Multiple female survivors. Priority is medical triage, ID, and transport to Safe Site Bravo. Move now. And be gentle.”
“Should we help?” I ask Luke.
He squeezes my shoulder. "We’d only get in the way."
Emergency vehicles pull up, and we move out of the way as they hurry into the house. Luke and I stand to the side, watching the women being loaded into vehicles, blankets wrapped around their shoulders, medics checking them over. Some are crying. Some are silent, their eyes wide and shocky.
We did this—we saved them. Not the law. Not the system.Us.
Luke's arm tightens around me. "You okay?"
I shake my head. "No."
"Yeah," he says. "Me neither."
Frowning, I look around. “Where’s Mandy?”
“Maybe she’s with Hendricks.” He shakes his head. “Come on.”
We walk away from the compound, past the vehicles, past all Hendricks’s personnel. Luke leads me to a spot near the tree line where we can see the sunrise but can't be seen from the compound.
He turns to face me, his hands coming up to frame my face. His face is streaked with dirt and sweat, his eyes bright and steady on mine.
"Your dad," he starts.
"Died saving me," I finish, my voice breaking. "I know."
"At the end, when it mattered, he did the right thing."
Tears blur my vision. "He did it too late."
"Maybe, but he still chose you.” He drops a tender kiss on my lips. “That counts for something."
I close my eyes and let the tears fall. Luke pulls me against his chest and holds me while I cry—for my father, for the years he wasted protecting Turner, for the man he could have been if he'd been braver sooner.
But also for the man he was at the end. The man who stepped in front of bullets meant for me.
"It's over, sunshine," Luke says quietly into my hair. "It's over."
I pull back just enough to look at him. "Is it?"
"Yeah." His thumb brushes away my tears. "It is."
I search his face—the hard lines, the exhaustion, the fierce protectiveness in his eyes.
"What happens now?" I ask.
"Now we go home."
"Home," I repeat, testing the word.
"Blackthorn," Luke says. "Our home."
Something shifts in my chest. Not healing—not yet—but the beginning of it.
"Yeah," I say, my voice steadier now. "Let's go home."