He’s not an officer anymore. He doesn’t get to be in Church.
My chest aches watching him stand there, excluded from something he used to be at the center of. All because he chose me. Because he put me first.
The officers file toward the chapel one by one. Dad is the last to move, pausing at the doorway.
“Bones,” he says, not turning around. “You too. I need you in on this one.”
Bones goes completely still. So do I.
For a moment, no one moves. Then Bones glances back at me. I nod. I know how much this means to him. And then he crosses the room in three long strides and disappears down the hall to the chapel with the others.
I realize I’m crying again when Mercy hands me a napkin.
“Looks like he earned it back,” she says softly. “Whatever Stone needs, Bones earned the right to be there.”
“I know,” I manage. “I just—seeing him stand there, thinking he wasn’t wanted?—”
“But he was,” Kya says, joining us. “Stone just made sure everyone knew it. Things are back the way they should be.”
I wipe my eyes. The party has quieted now, everyone aware something serious is happening but trying to maintain the celebratory atmosphere.
Erica is still standing near the kitchen, looking lost. Maggie approaches her with a cup of tea and guides her to a table.
“What do you think it is?” Poppy asks, settling into a chair across from me. “What brought her here?”
“Nothing good,” I say. “You don’t interrupt a party unless it’s urgent.”
We wait. The Christmas music is still playing, but no one’s singing along anymore. Steel has brought the twins and Adam back into the room and they’re corralled near the tree where he’s reading them a story in a low voice.
We all try to make conversation to pass the time. Fifteen minutes. Then thirty.
Finally, the chapel door opens and the officers file back inside. Their expressions are grim. Dad says something to Tank, who nods and immediately pulls out his phone.
Bones emerges last, and his eyes find mine immediately across the room. He crosses to me, and I reach up to grab his hand.
“What is it?” I ask. “What’s wrong?”
He crouches down next to my wheelchair so we’re eye level. “We’ve got a problem.”
“Summit?”
“Yeah. They’re back in town, pulling their shit again.”
I absentmindedly reach behind my head, fingers stretching down to my tracker like it’s a lifeline.
“Swan, if you need to leave, go back to New York to put some distance between you and this, you can. No one will blame you. But something’s going on, and I need to stay until I know you’re safe. Until we’re all safe.”
His hand tightens around mine. There’s no expectation, just clear honesty. Freedom, even. If I want it.
The choice is mine.
Last time—after the kidnapping—I ran. Told myself New York was safer. Told myself I didn’t belong here.
I was wrong then. And I’m not making that mistake again.
I take a moment, sipping my now-cold cocoa, then glance over at the cluster of women, the kids, Dad and Josie standing together, their heads bent in low conversation. I look at Bones, at the stubborn set of his jaw, the way he can’t quite let go of my hand.
“I’m not leaving,” I say. “This is my shitstorm as much as anyone’s.”
