I stand in the middle of the empty intersection for a long minute. The silence of the night finally settles over the concrete buildings. The flashing lights are gone. The threat is gone.
I turn around and walk toward the lobby doors.
Audrey is standing exactly where I left her, behind the heavy glass. She is watching me, her arms wrapped around her waist.
I push the door open and step into the heated lobby.
"Grant?" she asks immediately, stepping toward me.
"He is stable. It was a graze. He is on his way to the hospital." I reach out, my hands sliding under her heavy winter coat to rest on her waist. "The police cleared you. They accepted the self-defense narrative. You are not going to be charged."
She lets out a long, shaky breath, her forehead dropping to rest against my chest. "I shot a car, Malcolm."
"You did," I murmur, my lips pressing against the top of her head. "It was a very expensive car."
"I think I need to sit down."
I don't make her walk. I slide my arm under her knees and lift her into my arms. She wraps her arms around my neck, burying her face in my shoulder as I carry her toward the secure elevator.
The ride up to the loft is silent.
When the doors open, the industrial space looks exactly as we left it an hour ago. The metal desk. The encrypted laptop. The cold, exposed brick.
I carry her to the worn leather sofa and sit down, keeping her in my lap. She doesn't try to move. She curls against my chest, her legs tucked beside her, completely exhausted.
I unbutton her heavy winter coat, pulling it off her shoulders and tossing it onto the floor.
"It’s over," she whispers, her voice muffled against my shirt.
"It is." I rest my hand on her back, my thumb tracing the line of her spine through her sweater. "Preston is in federal custody. Simon will likely testify against him to reduce his own sentence. The holding company will be liquidated under federal oversight."
"And Vance Security?"
"Gone." I say the word without a single trace of regret. "I triggered the dissolution protocols before I walked downstairs. The proprietary software has been wiped. The servers are dark."
She lifts her head, looking at my face. The golden flecks in her eyes are dark, heavy with a mixture of awe and residual fear.
"You really burned it all down," she murmurs.
"I told you I would."
"I didn't think you meant literally." She reaches up, her fingers tracing the line of my jaw. "You don't have a job. You don't have a company. You don't have a family."
"I have you." I catch her hand, pressing my mouth to her palm. "That is the only asset I require."
She smiles, a slow, exhausted expression that completely dismantles the last remaining walls around my heart.
"So," she says softly. "What happens tomorrow?"
I look at the woman sitting in my lap. I look at the vintage diamond on her left hand.
For the last month, every decision I made was a tactical maneuver. The contract. The ring. The gala. It was all designed to manipulate the board, to destroy Simon, to trap Preston.
But there is no board left. There is no Simon. There is no Preston.
There is only the truth.
"Tomorrow," I say, my voice dropping to a low, absolute register, "we call your friend Vivian. We have her draft a new contract."
