We leave the station together and step out into afternoon sunlight. Case is closed. Arsonist is in custody. Brotherhood can rebuild without fear.
Mira stops in the parking lot and turns to face me fully. She doesn't say anything for a long moment, just looks at me with something written across her face I'm finally ready to name.
Acceptance. Not just of the investigation or the case or the danger. Acceptance of me—the fire investigator and the Marine, the Dom at the Forge and the man who beats threats bloody. All of it.
I pull her into my arms and hold her properly this time. She buries her face against my chest, and I feel the last of the tension drain from her body.
"Take me home," she says finally with voice muffled against my kutte.
"Yeah." My hand fists in her hair, possessive and claiming. "Let's go home."
EPILOGUE
MIRA
By evening, word has spread through the Brotherhood that the case is closed and Sullivan is in custody.
Brothers gather at Shaw's house without needing an invitation, filling the living room and spilling onto the deck. Will brings food from Ironside Bar, and someone else supplies beer. The atmosphere is celebratory but subdued—relief mixing with exhaustion after weeks of being on high alert.
Fire Marshal Davis stopped by Ironside earlier to officially close the case and commend the Brotherhood for cooperation during the investigation. With the closing of the investigation and the apprehension of the arsonist, the insurance companies, including my own, will begin to process and pay any remaining claims,.
Threat is eliminated. Evidence is documented. Life can return to normal.
Whatever normal means now.
Will raises his beer bottle and calls for attention from the assembled brothers. "Want to say something before everyone gets too drunk to remember it."
Laughter ripples through the room, but voices quiet as the president speaks.
"We've been through hell. Fires targeting our businesses, threats against our family, investigation putting pressure on everything we've built." Will's gaze sweeps the room and lands on each brother in turn before settling on me. "But we came through it because we protected what matters and caught the bastard responsible."
Pete shifts his weight against the doorframe, beer in hand. "My facility's rebuilt, but I lost clients who couldn't wait. Some of them aren't coming back."
"Beth had to work as a guest artist at another shop until her new location got finished," Mike adds quietly. "Insurance covered the building, but not three months of lost revenue or the customers who went elsewhere."
Danny stares into his beer. "Machine shop reopened last week. Half my old contracts already signed with competitors. Starting over from nothing."
Silence settles heavy over the room. Victory feels hollow when measured against what Sullivan took from them—not just buildings, but livelihoods, stability, years of built reputation gone in accelerant and flame.
"We survived," Will says finally. "That's what matters. We rebuild. We always rebuild."
"Couldn't have done it without Mira." Tate lifts his own beer, breaking the somber moment. "Insurance investigator who wouldn't back down even when things got dangerous. Who traced the money nobody else could find and broke the case open."
Cole nods agreement. "She helped protect the Brotherhood. That makes her family."
Other voices join in as brothers who've watched me work the investigation speak up. They've seen me refuse to quit despite threats and danger. Recognition doesn't come easy from men who've learned to trust carefully, but once given, it's absolute.
Something fierce rises in my chest. "Thank you. For trusting me when you had every reason not to. For protecting me when the investigation turned personal."
"You're Shaw's woman," Will says simply. "That makes you family. We protect family."
The gathering continues for another hour before brothers gradually filter out, heading home to their own lives now that the crisis has passed. Handshakes and back slaps happen alongside promises to see each other at the shop tomorrow. Normal conversation feels extraordinary after all the stress,fire and blood.
Finally, it's just me and Shaw alone in his house.
I'm still in my professional clothes, but exhaustion has softened the armor. My leather jacket hangs over a chair, hair loose around my shoulders instead of pulled back in that severe style I wore when I first showed up at The Anchor fire scene questioning his brothers.
Shaw watches me with that intensity that's become familiar, the look that says he's reading every micro-expression, cataloging what I need before I ask for it.
