Derek's voice breaks the silence. "He's good. Fontaine's down."
Relief hits so hard I have to brace against the seat.
"Scene secure. Evidence recovery teams moving in."
I don't know how long I sit there. Minutes blur together. Eventually, Derek's phone buzzes. He checks it, then glances back at me. "Luc's en route. ETA five minutes."
I wait, watching the street. When the SUV pulls up, Derek unlocks the doors. Luc climbs into the back beside me, and I throw myself at him. He catches me, pulls me against his chest. I feel his heartbeat.
"It's over," he says quietly. "Fontaine's dead. They're recovering evidence now, but it's done."
"You're okay."
"I'm fine." He pulls back, cups my face in his hands. "All threats are eliminated. Armand's in custody. Julien's dead. Fontaine's dead. Nobody's coming after you."
The words take a moment to land. When they do, something inside me releases. The constant tension I've carried for weeks finally lets go.
"It's really over?"
"It's over." He strokes his thumb along my jaw. "Protection detail ends. You're safe."
I lean my forehead against his chest and let go.
"Take me home," I whisper.
"Yeah." He pulls me closer. "Let's go home."
Luc drives us back to the estate in silence. I watch the streets pass and realize I can actually see it now without scanning for threats.
When we arrive, Luc walks me inside the guest house. I stand in the middle of the living room, uncertain.
He crosses to me, tips my chin up. "Rest now. You've been running on adrenaline and fear for weeks. It's done. Let yourself feel it."
I nod. He kisses me, slow and claiming. "Get some sleep. We'll handle everything else later."
I fall into bed and sleep through the day. The days after blur together. FBI debriefings. Legal meetings. Board updates. The media shifts focus from me to Armand's prosecution. Evidence mounts. Federal prosecutors build their case. Fontaine's records prove murder-for-hire, conspiracy, everything. Armand's going to federal prison for life.
And through it all, Luc's there. Not hovering. Just present. The protection detail officially ends, but I don't leave the estate. I choose to stay. We both do.
Life settles into a new rhythm.
I wake one morning to sunlight streaming through the bedroom windows and Luc's weight pressing me into the mattress. His mouth trails along my neck, teeth grazing the sensitive spot below my ear.
"Morning," he murmurs against my skin.
I arch into him. "Good morning, Sir."
He rolls off me, sits up. "Shower. Then breakfast. You have that board meeting this morning."
I move immediately, the command settling something inside me. In the bathroom, the shower's hot and wakes me fully. I dry off, moisturize, get dressed in the navy suit and cream blouse I laid out last night, then step back into the bedroom.
Luc's already dressed in dark slacks and a fitted shirt, working on his laptop at the desk. He glances up when I emerge. "Coffee's ready in the kitchen."
"Thank you, Sir."
The kitchen smells like coffee and bacon. Luc's already prepared everything, plated and waiting. I pour coffee for both of us, sit across from him at the small table.
"How's the LaCroix board treating you?" he asks between bites.
