Maybe she knows. Perhaps she doesn’t care. Maybe having Roman Bishop dead is enough, even if it means losing some evidence against Calder in the process.
I don’t know. Don’t care.
All I care about is the man standing next to me, alive and whole and mine.
An EMT tries to approach Roman’s body, but it’s clear there’s nothing to be done. He’s already gone, eyes staring sightlessly at the ceiling, blood soaking into the expensive Persian rug beneath him. Kade is being led away by agents, his hands behind his back. His expression is blank, almost as if he’s numb. He doesn’t look at any of us as they take him out. Doesn’t acknowledge that he saved us all by pulling that trigger.
Levi and Sawyer are being questioned separately. Agents are taking statements and documenting everything. Elena is escorted to another room by another pair of agents. This is going to be a long night. Probably a long week. But it’s over. The worst is over.
“We should go,” Calder says quietly. “Before they decide to arrest me too.”
“They’re not going to arrest you.” I lean into his side, feeling bone-deep exhaustion settling over me. “You were working with them. And I’m hoping Reese will take care of you.”
“Had.” He looks down at me. “Past tense. Because someone destroyed the wire that was recording all my cooperation.”
“Then I guess we’ll figure it out together.” I take his hand and lace our fingers together. “Whatever comes next. We do it together.”
For a moment, he doesn’t respond. Just stares at our joined hands like they’re some kind of miracle. Like he still can’t quite believe I chose this. Chose him.
Then he lifts my hand to his lips and presses a kiss to my knuckles. “Together,” he agrees. “Always.”
Agent Reese approaches us again, and this time her expression is harder to read. “I need you both to come in for questioning. Tonight.”
“Of course,” Calder says. Always polite, even now.
“And Calder?” She pauses. “We’re going to need to talk about that immunity agreement. Given the circumstances.”
His jaw tightens, but he nods. “Understood.”
Around us, the FBI continues processing the scene, taking photos, collecting evidence, and documenting the end of Roman Bishop’s reign of terror.
I can’t believe it’s over. It doesn’t feel real.
We make it back to the house, and I run up to change into something comfortable, since I assume we’ll be spending a long time at whatever passes for an FBI office in Black Hollow Creek. The police station maybe? Who knows. I’m drying my face whenCalder enters the bathroom, still wearing the same clothes from earlier. He drops a black duffel at my feet.
“What’s that? Hush money? I think we’re beyond that.” It’s a joke, but Calder doesn’t even blink.
“No. It’s not hush money. It’s for you. Your mom’s quilt is already in there, along with some money and a burner phone. There’s enough to start over, wherever you decide.”
“Start over?” I blink and look at him like he’s grown a second head. “What are you talking about?”
Calder stares at me, a mixture of fear and guilt in his eyes. “The idea of letting you go, watching you walk away, kills me. It physically hurts, but the thought of keeping you here. Trapped in a life you never asked for. Yeah, I’m selfish, but not that selfish. With my father gone, I’ll step into the role of the overseer to the Bishop family. I can’t put you through more darkness, more trauma, more things that are going to change who you are. I fell in love with the church girl. The bake sale girl. The can’t-play-pool-for-shit girl. Not... Mrs. Calder Bishop.”
I blink, my heartbeat picking up speed in my chest. “You...you don’t want me anymore because I’ve changed? I really didn’t get a choice here.”
He shakes his head and then scratches over his hair. “No. That’s not what I’m saying. I don’t want you to look back and regret being with me. At staying. I don’t want you to see yourself as a monster, like I am.”
I try to parse what he’s telling me, and the realization angers me. “Calder fucking Bishop, you do not get to put me through what you’ve put me through and then makethischoice, another choice for me. How about you ask me what I want this time?”
He studies me, then resettles his shoulders like he hadn’t considered my reaction until right this second. “Saintlyn, what do you want? I know if you left, you’d have to go far and hidebecause I am still not entirely sure I can let you go, but I’ve already taken so much from yo?—”
I step into him, and he instinctively wraps his hands around my waist. “Ask me.”
He grits his teeth, his jaw tight. “Do you want to stay here with me, Saint? Or do you want to leave?”
I kiss him in response, hard, deep, teeth scraping teeth, until we both come up for air. “I’m Mrs. Calder Bishop, and I’m not fucking going anywhere.”
He looks at me for a long moment, and I see everything in his eyes. Fear and love and gratitude and something that might be hope. He pulls me against him one more time, and this time holds me tight enough that I can barely breathe.
