“You're staying with us,” I said. “At Ravenswood. For as long as you need. Until you figure out what comes next.”
“I can't impose?—”
“You're not imposing. You're family. And family doesn't get abandoned.” I glanced at Cal. He nodded agreement. “Besides, Ravenswood has more rooms than we know what to do with. Adrian won't mind.”
“Adrian being the man who owns it.” Ethan's voice carried dry humour. “I'm trading prison for a different kind of containment.”
“Ravenswood's not prison. It's sanctuary.” Cal turned to look back at him. “And Adrian's not what the press makes him out to be. He's scary when necessary. But he's also the reason we're alive. The reason Harrow and Pemberton fell. The reason you're free.”
“Then I owe him.”
“No. You don't owe anyone anything.” My throat tightened. “You survived three years of hell for crimes you didn't commit. That's debt paid. Everything after this is yours. Free and clear.”
Ethan was quiet for a moment. Then: “Thank you. For coming back. For not giving up. For—for everything.”
“Thank you for surviving.” I held his gaze. “Lily would have wanted that. Would have wanted you to keep going.”
“She would have wanted you to keep going too. To find happiness instead of just revenge.” Ethan leaned back, exhaustion settling over him like a blanket. “I think you're getting there. Both of you.”
Ravenswood welcomed Ethan.Noah showed him to one of the guest suites. Made sure he had everything he needed. Disappeared before Ethan could feel overwhelmed by attention.
Adrian appeared briefly. Greeted Ethan with the same formal courtesy he showed everyone. Assured him the house was his to use as needed. Then left to handle the legal aftermath of the verdict. Viktor and the others stayed peripheral. Present without being intrusive.
By evening, Ethan was clean. Fed. Looking slightly more human than when we'd collected him from prison.
We gathered in one of Ravenswood's smaller sitting rooms. Just the three of us. Space that felt intimate instead of overwhelming.
“So,” Ethan said. Wrapped in borrowed clothes that hung loose on his frame. “What happens now? With Harrow and Pemberton?”
“Harrow's already been arrested. Charged with everything the committee recommended. He'll go to trial. Likely beconvicted based on the evidence.” Cal was sprawled on the sofa. Crutches propped nearby. “Pemberton's fighting harder. Has better lawyers. More connections. But the evidence is damning enough that even his network can't protect him.”
“How long until trial?”
“Months. Maybe a year. Legal proceedings move slowly.” I handed Ethan tea that Noah had prepared. “But the outcome isn't in doubt. They're finished. Both of them.”
“And the others? The judges and prosecutors who helped?”
“Being investigated. Some will flip. Testify against Harrow and Pemberton in exchange for lighter sentences. Others will fight and lose.” Cal's expression was grim satisfaction. “The network is collapsing. Everyone scrambling to save themselves. It's beautiful in a vicious sort of way.”
“You sound like you're enjoying it.”
“I am. Is that terrible?” Cal didn't look apologetic. “I've spent three years watching these people bury truth. Watching them destroy lives for profit and power. Seeing them finally face consequences feels—cathartic.”
“It's not terrible. It's human.” Ethan sipped his tea. “I spent three years angry. Wanting revenge. Knowing I'd never get it. So yes. I understand catharsis.”
We sat in comfortable silence for a while. Just being. Breathing. Processing the fact that we'd actually won something that had seemed impossible.
We madeit to my quarters. The space that was officially mine but had started feeling like ours weeks ago.
Inside, Cal dropped the crutches against the wall with a clatter. Started unbuttoning his shirt with hands that shookslightly—not from exhaustion, but anticipation. Three years of carrying truth finally finding rest. Three years of wanting this man and having to wait for the right moment.
This was the right moment.
“Let me,” I said. Moved his hands aside. Worked the buttons slowly. Deliberately. “You've been moving all day on those injured ribs. I want to see what I'm working with before I wreck you properly.”
“Wreck me.” Cal's mouth curved. “Big promises from a man who's also injured.”
“I have a working arm and complete determination. That's all I need.” I pushed his shirt off his shoulders. Let it hang open, exposing his chest. The bandages. The bruises fading to yellow-green. “Beautiful. Even damaged.”
