“That was Adrian being Adrian. Untouchable. Absolute. Making decisions and daring anyone to question them.”
“Did it work?”
“Yeah. It worked.” I looked at him properly for the first time since the morning rush of people and plans, just the two of us now.
We stayed quiet for a moment, processing everything—the scale of what we were attempting, the people now standing with us.
“Two weeks,” Cal said finally. “Then we watch them fall.”
“Together,” I said. “But first, you rest. Actually rest. Let yourself heal.”
“You're very bossy when you're worried.”
“And you're very stubborn when you're injured.” I leaned down and kissed him, slow and gentle. “Sleep, Cal. I'll be here when you wake up.”
“Always are,” he murmured, his eyes already drifting closed.
I settled back into the chair and watched the monitors, counted his breaths.
Two weeks. Then we'd walk into that hearing and destroy Harrow, expose Pemberton, and get justice for everyone they'd destroyed.
But for now, Cal was alive, healing, and here.
And that was enough.
