“It’s done. Eleanor Vale is dead. Suicide. Fire confirmed. Body recovered. Dental records pending, but it’s her.”
I close my eyes.
Just for a second.
Wolf exhales slowly. Havoc leans back in his chair.
I don’t move.
“Network?” I ask.
“Collapsed,” Marco says. “We’re executing the last warrants now. There will be trials, but no more moves. No one left who can coordinate anything like this again.”
The wordagainlands heavier than it should.
“And the baby?” he asks quietly.
I look at my hands.
“Safe,” I say. “She’s been safe since the night they failed. We didn’t tell Laney everything.”
“I figured,” Marco says. “You never do.”
That’s not an insult.
It’s an observation.
“She’s really gone?” I ask.
“Yes,” he says. “She made sure of it.”
For a moment, nobody speaks.
Then Wolf stands.
“Go home, Saint.”
“I’m fine,” I say automatically.
He looks at me like he’s known me too long to accept that answer.
“No, you’re not. And it’s over. That means you don’t get to hide in this room anymore.”
Havoc nods. “Your war’s done.”
I don’t argue.
Because something in my chest has finally started to ache.
The driveback feels longer than it should.
Not because of traffic.
Because I don’t remember the last time I drove without rehearsing exits in my head.
The house is quiet when I open the door.
Laney is on the couch, curled around Emmy, who’s asleep against her chest.
