Page 82 of Her Courage

"What about Rupert?" Colby asked.

"Separate trial. Marshall thinks he'll flip on Patrice to reduce his sentence." I shrugged. "Doesn't matter either way. They're both out of our lives now."

Silence settled over us again, but this time it was comfortable. Healing.

"I need to call Sierra and Monica," I said after a while. "Let them know it's over."

"Later," Lottie insisted, snuggling closer. "Right now, you need to rest. Let us take care of you for a change, Daddy K."

My throat tightened. "I love you. All of you. So fucking much."

"Language," Lottie teased weakly.

That startled a laugh from me—rough and watery, but genuine. "Brat."

"Always," she agreed.

We stayed like that for a long time. The four of us tangled together on the couch, holding each other as the afternoon sun streamed through the windows.

Outside, life continued. Cars passed. Birds sang. The world turned.

But in here, in this moment, we were everything.

And that was enough.

More than enough.

That was everything.

Chapter Thirty-Six

COLBY

Two weeks had passed since Patrice's trial concluded with a guilty verdict on all counts. The judge had sentenced her to thirty years without possibility of parole—a decision that brought relief so profound I'd felt it in my bones.

Now, as I watched my unusual little family gathered around Kaleb's dining table, I felt something else entirely.

Pride. Pure, uncomplicated pride.

Lottie sat between Andrei and Kaleb, practically glowing with happiness as she laughed at something Sierra said. Her honey-brown hair was pulled into two high pigtails that bounced when she moved, and she wore one of those quirky dresses I loved—this one covered in tiny dinosaurs wearing party hats.

She'd been thriving these past two weeks. The constant fear that had shadowed her movements, the way she'd startled at every unexpected sound—all of it had gradually faded. She smiled more easily now. Laughed louder. Took up more space in the world without apologizing for it.

My little girl was finally, truly free.

Sierra bounced Keeley on her lap, the toddler giggling as her mother made exaggerated faces. The kidnapping had left marks—Keeley still clung tighter to Sierra than before, still woke crying sometimes—but children were resilient. She was healing.

We all were.

Monica sat beside Oscar at the far end of the table, the two of them engaged in quiet conversation that made Monica's cheeks flush pink. I'd noticed Oscar's attention gravitating toward her over the past weeks, the way his stoic expression softened when she entered a room.

Interesting developments there. I'd have to mention it to the others later, see if they'd noticed the same thing.

Mikhail had positioned himself near Sierra and Keeley, as he'd done constantly since the kidnapping. The deadly assassin—Andrei's cousin's best friend and bodyguard—had appointed himself their personal protector. Sierra seemed simultaneously flustered and comforted by his hovering presence.

Andrei, I'd noticed, watched Mikhail's interactions with Sierra with a calculating expression. Not disapproving, exactly, but... assessing. Trying to determine if The Shadow's intentions toward Kaleb's sister were honorable.

Knowing Mikhail's reputation, that was probably wise.