"Then we help them find something new." I turned to face him. "That's what family does, right?"
His smile was tired but real. "Right."
We sat in silence as the sun rose higher, painting the ruined farm in shades of gold. Somewhere inside, FBI agents cataloged evidence. Somewhere on a highway, Chen was being driven toward a cell she'd never leave.
It was over. Finally, truly over.
"Kai." Tyler's voice made me look up. He was standing a few feet away, arm bandaged, exhaustion carved into every line of his face. But he was smiling. "Sarah wants to meet you. Properly. Says anyone who can survive Chen's personal attention deserves a commendation."
"Maybe later." I didn't have the energy for introductions. "Tyler... what Chen said about the FBI... About someone taking her place..."
"She's not wrong." His smile faded. "This doesn't end corruption. It endsher. But it's a start."
"Is that enough?"
"It has to be." He looked out at the sunrise, something wistful in his expression. "We saved sixty people in two days, Kai. Sixty lives that would have been sold, destroyed, enslaved. That matters. Even if we can't save everyone—what we did here matters."
I thought about Ana, the girl from the warehouse. About Daniel, the boy who'd whispered thank you. About thirty-seven people who would see their families again because we refused to give up. "Yeah," I said. "It does."
Tyler nodded, clapped my shoulder, and walked back toward the farmhouse. Axel pulled me closer, pressed a kiss to my temple.
"Let's go home," he murmured.
Home. The clubhouse. The family we'd built from blood and choice.
"Yeah." I let him help me to my feet. "Let's go home."
We walked toward the trucks together, leaving the farm—and everything it represented—behind us.
But as we drove away, I couldn't shake the echo of Chen's final words.
These things happen to old women. Especially when someone decides they should.
She hadn't confessed. Hadn't even claimed responsibility. She'd just shown me the shape of the knife and let me imagine how deep it had gone.
Some poisons don't need proof to work. They just need doubt.
And doubt, I was learning, could last forever.
18
AFTERMATH
The clubhouse had never looked so beautiful. We pulled through the gates at dawn, eighteen exhausted Phoenix members piling out of trucks that had seen better days. The building itself was still scarred—boarded windows, patched walls, the lingering smell of smoke—but it was standing. It was home. It was safe.
Maria had come back after being told it was safe, and she met us at the door, face tight with worry until she counted heads. All present. All alive. Her shoulders sagged with relief. "The survivors from the farm?" she asked.
"Being processed at three hospitals. Tyler's people are handling it." Axel's voice was rough with exhaustion. "Thirty-seven people, Maria. Sixty in total. We got sixty people out."
"Sixty." She pressed a hand to her mouth, eyes bright. "My God."
"Your God had nothing to do with it." But he pulled her into a hug anyway, holding her tight for a moment before letting go. "Where's Jake?"
"Resting. Doctor says the wound is healing clean." She looked past Axel to me, and something softened in her expression. "You look like death, Kai."
"Feel like it too."
"There's food in the kitchen. Hot water in the showers. Beds for anyone who needs them." She started herding people inside with the efficiency of a general. "Go. Rest. Debrief can wait."
