"He's already doing that." I gesture to the files. "Emma died because she was alone. Because she didn't have backup when he came for her. I'm not alone."
Marc's hand finds mine under the table. Brief contact, but solid.
"Neither am I," he says.
Calder studies us both, then nods. "I'll need copies of everything. Jackie Nielsen's testimony, Emma's documentation, your investigative work, the contractor's statement about the warrant. All of it." She looks at Harlow. "And we need to coordinate. Your task force has active investigations that intersect with this. I'll need your case files on the trafficking ring."
Harlow steps forward with a flash drive. "Already done. Encrypted. Multiple backups."
"Good." Calder pockets the drive. "If The Marshal's real, he's already killed for this." She holds my gaze. "He'll do it again. Trust no one outside this room until Haywood's in custody."
She gathers her briefcase and heads for the door. She pauses with her hand on the frame. "I'll be in touch within the day. Move fast, stay smart, and don't do anything that gives Haywood an excuse to come after you."
The door closes behind her, and Emma's evidence leaves with her.
Harlow and Rhys head out first, taking a different route back. Standard security protocol: we don't travel in convoy and make ourselves an easy target.
The drive back is silent. Marc checks mirrors constantly, tracking every vehicle that gets close. I watch Alaska blur past the window and think about what we've just committed to.
"Second thoughts?" Marc asks.
"Plenty. You?"
"Yeah." His knuckles go white on the wheel. "But we're doing it anyway."
"Emma didn't get to choose. Haywood came for her before she could prepare."
"And we chose this knowing exactly what it costs." He glances at me. "No going back now."
"No."
Something settles between us. An acknowledgment of what we've become in the span of days. Partners in a fight that could kill us both, but more than that. Something I'm not ready to name but feel building with every shared look, every moment of trust.
Back at Finn and Cara's place, Finn's running diagnostics on the perimeter sensors. Cara sits at her laptop, law enforcement channels scrolling on the screen. She glances up.
"Calder's taking it to DOJ," Marc says. "Could be soon."
"And Haywood?" Cara asks.
"By now he knows we have his contractor. Knows we're building a case. He'll escalate."
Finn gestures to gear already laid out on the table. "Go bags ready. Cash. Burner phones. Exit routes mapped. When this goes sideways, we move."
They head out to run another perimeter check. Marc and I stand in the cabin's main room, tension thick between us.
"I should review the files again," I say. "Make sure we didn't miss anything."
"Sela." Marc's voice stops me. "Calder has what she needs."
I turn. He's closer than I expected, near enough I can see exhaustion carved into the lines around his eyes—the weight of carrying this investigation for weeks before I showed up with Emma's files.
"Then what do we do now?"
"We wait. Trust we made the right call."
I do trust him. I trusted him with my life in that parking lot, with Emma's evidence, with whatever comes next.
Marc steps closer. His hand comes up, fingers brushing my jaw. A gentle touch that contrasts with everything hard about him.
