“She’s staying with me,” Astrid repeated, not louder, just firmer. “Her parents are arriving tomorrow. They’re flying in. This is the news I’m giving them.”
That landed. Even Carson couldn’t argue with optics and humanity at the same time, not in front of witnesses.
He gave a curt nod. “We’ll be in touch.”
He turned to Grant. “Let’s move.”
Grant’s eyes met mine as he stepped past. An acknowledgment—I see what you’re doing. I see what you found. I see that you didn’t bring her to the station first, and I’m filing that away.
Then he followed Carson out.
The door shut. The clinic quieted again.
Astrid exhaled shakily and turned to Gabi. “How soon can I take her home?”
Gabi checked the IV line and looked at Priya. “Give me a little more time for fluids and a snack. I want her steady on her feet first.”
Priya’s shoulders slumped with relief so sharp it almost looked like pain.
Madden’s hand stayed in mine, grip still tight, like she needed proof this was real.
And I stood there in the doorway, watching my sister do what she did best—protect the person in front of her without asking permission—while the chief of police hunted the man who’d kept Priya locked up.
We found her.
Now the island would do what it always did—close ranks, demand neat answers, try to make this one clean.
And nothing about it would be clean.
Thirty-Six
MADDEN
Every muscle in my body protested as Rios and I crossed the threshold into the Brewhouse, as if my skin hadn’t quite caught up to the reality that we were allowed to be somewhere ordinary again. The hum of the crowd, the scrape of chairs, the splash of laughter—they all sounded strangely muffled, like coming up from underwater too fast. Rios’s hand stayed at my back until we reached the edge of the dining room. His thumb traced a silent check-in, anchoring me, even as he read the space for exits and threats. That sign of vigilance was such a comfort.
“I’ll be right over there if you need me.” He caught my eyes, waiting for my nod—my consent to let him go. I managed it, but barely.
He squeezed my hand—a flash of pressure, the kind you only give when words are too thin to hold everything you want to say—and slipped toward the bar where Ford and Sawyer waited. I watched him go, wishing I could go with him.
But that wasn’t why we were here. I’d come to see Astrid because we both needed a piece of normal, and that wouldn’t come until the last of this was closed out.
I spotted her at a table by the windows, two drinks sweating onto napkins, a basket of fries untouched. She looked up as I approached, and for a moment, neither of us moved. The exhaustion on her face mirrored my own, etched deep and dark as bruises. When she stood, we slid into a brief, hard hug that said we were both still here. When we pulled apart, I saw how red her eyes were, and I didn’t bother pretending mine weren’t the same. There’d been tears of relief and exhaustion once we’d made it back to Sutter House and passed the news on to Willa and Sawyer.
We sat, shoulders slumping toward the sticky tabletop like we could rest our weight on it. Astrid shoved the fries at me. “Eat. You look like you haven’t since—well. Since.”
I took one, more for something to do with my hands than any real hunger. The salt stung the inside of my mouth. “I’m not sure I’ve eaten anything in the past several days that wasn’t forced on me by one Carrera or another.”
She gave a little huff, not quite a laugh. “We’ll circle back to that.”
The bar noise receded, and we sank into the kind of hush that only came after holding your breath for way too damned long. There was only the clink of ice in our glasses, and the steady, shaking exhale we both let out together. Some of the weight seemed to leave with it.
“How is Priya?”
We’d escorted the two of them back to Astrid’s place from the clinic. Rios hadn’t been willing to leave until he’d seen the security system himself and heard her lock the deadbolts and arm it. Even then, he hadn’t wanted to go, but Chris Shelton, one of the local police officers, had shown up saying that he’d been put on guard duty.
Wes Mullowney hadn’t been apprehended yet.
Astrid’s smile was raw and real. “Safe. Her parents haven’t let her out of their sight since they got in late this morning. She slept finally—really slept. Her mom cried so hard she made herself sick. Her dad keeps bringing her toast and tea like it’s a cure for anything. But she’s okay.” She reached across the table and laid her hand over mine. “I don’t know how to thank you for that.”
