I give Eva a huge smile. “Fucking amazing.”
She approaches and pulls me in for a hug, too. I know she’s glad this is over for me, too.
I take a deep breath. “That was definitely Junior. He clocked me.”
“We know,” Enzo replies. “We’ll deal with that later.”
“Are you sure you don’t want—” I start.
“I’m sure,” Enzo replies. “Tonight isn’t about him. It’s about you.”
The weight of a million memories, scars, and painful regrets are lifted. I feel…I feel ready.
Ready for a new chapter.
TWENTY-EIGHT
imminent
Hudson
Friday Morning, Day 37
By the time I badge into the Hoover Building the next morning, Troy is dead in every possible sense. Dead overnight. Dead on the news. Dead in the mouths of analysts who never met him and anchors polishing the word “legacy” like it doesn’t make them choke.
The media repeatedly shows him carted out of the gala on a gurney, and I relish it, knowing he’d hate looking weak and vulnerable.
The lobby hums with urgency. Agents move faster than usual, voices clipped, eyes sharp. All hands on deck. The chaos brings my body to life, and I try to hide the smile that lives inside of my chest.
Last night, Enzo took Pippa back to her place after the gala and her victory. I joined them a few hours later when my official FBI duties were complete—duties that I want to be permanently complete someday soon.
We showered Pippa in effusive praise as we literally washed the night off our skin and collapsed into bed. Hugs, kisses, cuddling, talking. Nothing more, nothing less.
She shared a bit more about her past last night and that seeing him face to face sent her into a flashback. That gutted me. It’s time for that bitch Sophie to pay her fucking penance.
It took everything in me to leave today for work. I didn’t want to leave the comfort of Pippa and Enzo’s bodies—didn’t want her to be alone after such a huge takedown.
Enzo had to leave before me. His phone was blowing up after the world caught wind of Troy’s death. His clients are freaking the fuck out. He wouldn’t have left Pippa’s bed for just anyone; Jonathan Vale wanted an in-person meeting. Pippa and I agreed we still needed access to him until Sophie resurfaced. Enzo was tasked with pressing Vale with some questions.
Eva is spending time processing the audio logs of Vale’s bug to see what we can find on Sophie or “Michael Grant”—aka Junior.
Fuck, I really don’t like the idea of Pippa home alone today. She insisted she was okay and she looked it. Relaxed, content, light. I just have to trust she wasn’t lying, but I would much rather be with her right now.
My burner vibrates before I reach my desk. It’s a thread Jules started this morning to ask whether Pippa was actually okay.
Jules
She really didn’t want to go to the mansion?
Luna
Can we force her?
Enzo
I tried.
Eva
