He’s pathetic. And I’m still standing.
The revelation earns a weird, dry laugh from me. “You took a building, Marcus,” I say calmly. My voice surprises even me. “You didn’t take me.”
His smile falters.
“I’m still standing. And I’ll rebuild. You took nothing that actually matters. Nothing you do matters.” My smile grows. “So, I ask you, how does it feel to be utterly impotent?”
His face flushes red, rage flashing in his eyes as he slams his cuffed hands against the table. He spits, “You ruined everything!”
“No,” I say, steady now. “You ruined your own life, and you tried to blame that on me, because you’re a pathetic loser.”
Rage fills his eyes, twists his face. “You bitch! You’ll pay for this! You’ll?—”
“No, actually, I won’t. You’re the one behind bars, and you’re going to stay there for a very long time.” I sit back in my chair, my hands resting calmly in my lap.
The detective nods once at the mirrored wall. “We’re done here.”
As they lead him away, still shouting, I catch a glimpse of Aiden through the glass. He’s watching me with something like awe on his face.
And for the first time since this began, I feel something close to free.
We finish more paperwork, but I can’t shake that feeling. Marcus is no longer my problem. Sure, I have to rebuild my business, but Aiden’s right about that—it was a building. My people are alive and well, and I will take care of them.
Of all the ways this could have gone, this one isn’t the worst. The other shoe didn’t fall this time.
The police explain the charges in plain language, so I can’t misunderstand them. Arson. Stalking. Breaking and entering. Attempted murder, because Roz could have died when she walked into the bar that morning. Then a collective charge of attempted murder for all the people who could have died in the first fire. Hearing that part makes my stomach flip, the weight of what almost happened settling more heavily than anything Marcus said to my face.
He could have won. He didn’t. Fuck him.
“He’s not getting out anytime soon,” the detective assures me. “There will be court dates. We’ll keep you informed. You’ll be notified before any movement or hearings.”
I nod, absorbing it all in a way that feels oddly distant, like my body is still catching up to the fact that the immediate danger has passed. I thank them, sign what needs signing, and finally stand when they tell me I’m free to go.
Aiden steps close enough that his presence fills my peripheral vision. “You okay?”
I nod. “I am.”
He studies me for a moment. “You really are, aren’t you?”
It feels truer, knowing he can see what I feel. As we walk out of the station, the fluorescent lights give way to softer ones,the night air cooler and less oppressive than it was hours ago. The building feels like it’s exhaling behind us, the worst of it contained inside its walls.
Outside, I pause for a moment before heading toward the parking lot. Something feels different. Lighter.
The fear that’s been sitting in my chest for weeks has loosened its grip. It’s not gone entirely, but it’s quieter now, manageable in a way it wasn’t before. Marcus doesn’t get to dictate my future. He doesn’t get to define me by the damage he caused.
I glance at Aiden, who’s watching me with a small, proud smile he isn’t trying to hide.
“What?” I ask.
“You were incredible in there. I’m proud of you.”
I give his hand a squeeze. “Thanks.” I’m not sure how to take the compliment without crying, so I just keep moving. We reach his truck, and as I pull the door open, I feel a strange sense of closure settle in. Not the kind that wraps everything up neatly, but the kind that allows you to move forward without constantly looking over your shoulder.
For the first time in a long time, the road ahead feels open.
Aiden’s phone rings. He glances down at his phone, his expression shifting subtly as he checks the screen. It’s not alarm yet. Not the sharp, immediate tension I’ve come to recognize when something is wrong. This is something else—focused, alert, but contained. He silences the call with a quick tap and looks back at me.
“It’s nothing urgent. We’re good.”
