The Marshal. Years of trafficking networks and corruption traced back to one man. Survivors trying to expose him. Cases that went nowhere because he controlled the system from inside.
And now he's in a cell for the rest of his life.
"Hope he serves every damn day of the sentence," I say.
Finn joins us, Cara tucked under his arm. "A toast to fast deliberation and unanimous verdicts."
"Three hours. Jury didn't have any doubt."
"Because Traci didn't break," Cara says. She looks across the room to where Traci's sitting with Sadie and Helena. "She's stronger than he ever was."
Yeah. She is.
We eat. Drink. Tell stories that get louder as the night goes on. Zeke recounts how it felt seeing Graves under arrest arriving for the trial. Rhys talks about tracking Graves's network through financial records. Finn describes Cara's face when the arrest warrant finally came through.
Helena's beside me the whole time. Her hand finds mine under the table. Thumb stroking across my knuckles. Grounding me when the noise gets too much. Knowing I need the connection even when I can't ask for it.
When Traci starts fading around nine, I catch Helena's eye. Time to go.
The three of us walk home through cold night air. Stars visible above Glacier Hollow's minimal light pollution. Mountains dark shapes against darker sky.
Traci walks between us. Small frame bundled in a coat that's still too big. But she's not shrinking anymore. Not trying to disappear. Just tired after a long day.
Inside, she heads straight to her room. Pauses in the doorway. Looks back at us.
"Thank you," she says. Voice quiet but steady. "For making this feel like home."
Then she's gone. Door closing softly behind her.
Helena leans into me. Her body fitting against mine like it was designed for this. "You did that. Gave her somewhere safe to heal."
"We did that." I turn her to face me. Hand cupping her jaw. Thumb tracing her lower lip. "You. Me. Her. We're family now."
Her eyes go dark. Reading the shift in my tone. The promise beneath the words. "Eli?—"
"Bedroom. Now."
She goes. Always does when I use that voice. I follow her down the hallway. Close the door behind us. Lock it.
Then I'm on her. Backing her against the wall. Hand around her throat. Not squeezing, just holding. Claiming. "Been thinking about this all night. Watching you at dinner. Knowing you're mine and everyone in that room could see it."
Her pulse hammers under my palm. "They could see it because you kept touching me."
"Damn right I did." My other hand finds her hip. Slides under her shirt to bare skin. "And now I'm going to touch you everywhere. Make you come until you forget how to think about anything except my hands on your body."
"Yes." Breathless surrender. The kind that makes me want to devour her.
I strip her down. Take my time despite the urgency. Memorizing every curve. Every mark I've left on her skin. Evidence of my possession written in bruises and bite marks that fade and reappear with deliberate frequency.
She's mine. Permanently. The woman who saw what I am and wanted me anyway. Who chose this life. This family. This future we're building one day at a time.
I carry her to bed. Make good on every promise. Take her apart with hands and mouth and cock until she's gasping my name and clinging to me like I'm the only solid thing in her universe.
Afterward, she's wrapped around me. Sated and sleepy and exactly where she belongs.
"Love you," she murmurs against my chest. Words she started saying a month ago. Words I'm still learning how to return.
"Love you too." Rough admission. But true. She changed everything. Gave me a reason to stay. To build instead of hide. To believe I could be more than the operator who hesitated and got children killed.
