I don't lower my rifle until they're all on their knees, zip-tied and neutralized. Only then do I move to Jordan, positioning myself between her and any remaining threat.
"Dmitri Volkov," Major Adeyemi says, stepping forward with Interpol credentials in hand. "I'm placing you under arrest for conspiracy to commit terrorism, arms trafficking, and the attempted murder of Jordan James-Fitzwallace. You have the right to remain silent."
"This is entrapment," Volkov says calmly.
"This is justice," Jordan corrects. "And you walked right into it."
Sawyer's team enters, processing Volkov's security while Adeyemi personally cuffs Volkov. The operation is smooth, exactly as planned. No shots fired. No casualties. Just a clean arrest with overwhelming evidence.
I move to Jordan, my hand finding hers. "You okay?"
"Perfect." She squeezes back. "Is it really over?"
"His entire operation is compromised. Interpol has been building a case for months. Your testimony, combined with the recording we just made, gives them everything they need." I pull her against my side, needing the contact. "It's really over."
Volkov looks at us as they lead him away. "You think this changes anything? There will always be someone else. Someone who sees profit in human misery."
"Maybe," Jordan says. "But they'll have to go through both of us. And we're very good at what we do."
We watch from the warehouse entrance as Interpol loads Volkov into an armored transport. The vehicle's lights flash blue and white against wet pavement, against the industrial decay of the docklands. Cold wind cuts through my jacket, but I barely feel it. The adrenaline is fading, leaving behind exhaustion and relief in equal measure.
Major Adeyemi approaches, looking satisfied. Her team performed flawlessly. No casualties, no shots fired, a textbook arrest with overwhelming evidence.
"Clean operation," she says. "Your intelligence was solid, and JJ—" she nods at Jordan "—you played your part perfectly. I've worked with undercover operatives with less composure."
"Just doing what needed to be done," Jordan says, and a tremor runs through her voice that she's hiding from everyone else. The aftermath hitting now that the immediate danger has passed. "And thank you. For everything. The Nigerian government's support made this possible."
"We value allies who give a damn about our people. Not many do." Adeyemi extends her hand, and the handshake is firm, professional. Respect between equals. "The contract I mentioned in Switzerland still stands. When you're ready, we'd be honored to work with Cerberus and Orpheus."
After she leaves, Jordan and I stand in the cold January night, watching emergency lights flash against warehousewalls. The team is packing up equipment, coordinating with authorities, handling the aftermath with practiced efficiency. They're good people. People I trust with my life. With Jordan's life.
"We did it," Jordan says quietly, and now the full weight of emotion comes through. Relief, exhaustion, disbelief.
"Equal partners," I confirm, pulling her against my side. She's shaking slightly—adrenaline crash, cold, emotional release. I wrap my arm around her, sharing warmth. "Your network found his financial trail. Sully tracked his movements. Adeyemi brought international muscle. And you walked into his trap knowing I'd be there to spring ours."
"With you watching my back." She turns to face me, her hands finding my chest, feeling my heartbeat under the tactical vest. Needing the physical confirmation that we're both here, both alive, both safe. "I knew you wouldn't let anything happen to me."
"Never." The word comes out rough, weighted with everything I felt watching her stand exposed in that warehouse. "But you scared the hell out of me. Standing there, playing bait, while I was twenty meters away with a rifle."
"I know. I'm sorry." She rises on her toes to kiss me, and the kiss tastes like fear and relief and victory. "But it worked. We got him. We really got him."
"We did." I rest my forehead against hers, needing the contact, the connection. "The threat that's haunted us since Switzerland is finally neutralized. Volkov will face trial. His network is compromised. The consortium has fallen apart without his funding and organization."
"Can we really breathe now?" The question is small, vulnerable. Hope mixed with disbelief.
"We can breathe." I stroke her hair, cold and slightly damp from the river fog.
"What now?" Jordan asks, her voice muffled against my chest.
"We sleep in our own bed. Tomorrow, we don't check for threats or plan operations. We just... live." I stroke her hair gently, feeling the tension finally draining from her body. "And then we keep on doing what we do… saving people. Making the world slightly less terrible."
"Together," she says.
"Always," I agree.
Sully approaches with our gear, grinning despite the early hour and the cold. "All right, you two. Stop being disgustingly in love and help me pack this equipment. Some of us would like to get home before dawn."
Jordan laughs, the sound bright and genuine. Perfectly Jordan. We help load the vehicles, the team working with practiced efficiency. The banter is easy, comfortable. Adam makes a joke about Jordan's acting skills. Harry complains about the cold. Nigel is already planning a celebratory dinner at Baker Street.
