Around the Forge, the firefight has ended. Kline's team are either down or in federal custody, weapons secured, evidence being collected. Shaw and the other Brothers emerge from cover, checking each other for injuries, weapons still ready.
Cole stands apart from everyone. ATF processes the scene around him. Blood spatters his hands and jacket. His expression is completely neutral, locked down tight.
I've seen violence in undercover operations. But what I just witnessed—Cole systematically breaking down Kline, the cold control in every strike, understanding that he chose to stop rather than being unable to continue—that's different.
That's something I can't unsee.
Martinez approaches with his tablet, already documenting evidence. "Monroe, we need your statement for the report."
"Give me a minute." I'm still focused on Cole, who hasn't moved from his spot near the office doorway.
"Take your time. We've got plenty to process here." Martinez surveys the scene. "Hell of an operation. The Brotherhood did good work holding the interior."
Shaw joins us, blood on his knuckles but otherwise uninjured. "Everyone accounted for. Minor injuries, nothing serious. Kline's team wasn't as good as they thought."
"They were good enough," I say. "Just not as good as you."
"That's the difference between playing operative and being one." Shaw glances toward Cole. "He going to be okay?"
"I don't know." Honest answer, because I genuinely don't.
Shaw nods slowly. "He crossed lines tonight. We all saw it. But Kline threatened Gemma and came after you, and in the Brotherhood, that means Kline earned everything Cole gave him." He meets my eyes. "You good with that?"
"I'm good with keeping Kline alive for prosecution." I hold his gaze. "What Cole did to get him there is between Cole and his conscience."
"Fair enough." Shaw heads back toward the other Brothers, who are providing statements to ATF agents.
I cross the distance to Cole. He's still motionless, still wearing that neutral expression, still covered in the evidence of tonight.
He looks at me. Something flickers in his eyes, too fast to identify. "You got what you needed. Kline's alive, evidence secured, case made."
"Yeah." I step closer, lowering my voice. "You could have killed him."
"I could have." No denial, no justification. Just acknowledgment.
"But you didn't."
"You asked me not to." He says it simply, factually. "You needed him alive for the case. So I left him alive."
"That's not the only reason." I can see it in his expression, the deliberate choice behind his actions. "You stopped because you chose to stop. Not because you couldn't finish."
"Yeah." He holds my gaze. "I could have kept going. Chose not to."
"I saw what you did tonight. What you can do when someone threatens people you care about. That's not going away, and I won't pretend I didn't see it."
"No." He holds my gaze. "You shouldn't."
Martinez calls my name from across the hallway. I raise a hand in acknowledgment, but don't leave Cole's side yet.
"I need to give my statement, help process evidence. This is going to take hours." I touch his arm. "Martinez is going to want your statement too. About what happened with Kline."
"I'll come in tomorrow with legal counsel," Cole says quietly.
"Good idea." I lean up, kiss him briefly. Tasting blood and violence and the choice he made to stop. "Go home. Clean up. I'll come by when we're done here."
I head back toward Martinez and the evidence processing. Behind me, Cole's boots echo down the stairs.
Processing takes hours. Martinez doesn't bring up Cole again, but I can feel his disapproval every time he looks my way. Statements from every ATF agent, from Shaw and the other Brothers. We document weapons seized, establish chain of custody for evidence, arrange medical transport for Kline to federal holding with armed guard. I coordinate with the Assistant US Attorney by phone, outlining charges, confirming we have everything needed for prosecution.
