Chapter 9 #2
She scoffs and looks away.
“I knew Miranda and Vincent were involved. I just couldn’t prove it until I saw their faces when I walked in that surveillance room. I needed them to feel confident enough to let their guard down.”
“I trusted you,” she says, voice cracking. “I told you things I’ve never told anyone. I let you in.”
“I didn’t take that lightly. I still don’t.” I take a step closer, but not too close. “I did it because if I didn’t, you’d still be in that cell while they walked free.”
She turns slowly to face me, blinking hard. “So what now? You get to be the hero and I just forget that you had me dragged off in cuffs in front of half the station?”
“No,” I say softly. “You don’t have to forget any of it. You can hate me if you want. But just know—Miranda and Vincent are both in custody. Dave’s got the footage. The logs. Everything. They’re going down, and your name is coming out clean.”
She’s quiet for a long time. Her eyes shimmer, not with tears, but with the weight of everything she’s carried. The betrayal. The anger. The fear.
Aria stands there in the dim corridor of the holding area, arms crossed, her expression caught somewhere between disbelief and fury. The shadows from the fluorescent lights stretch across her face, and I can see she’s trying hard not to let her emotions show.
“Wait,” she says finally, voice trembling. “They’re in custody?”
I nod once. “Dave’s processing them now. Miranda and Vincent. Both of them.”
Her eyes flicker, stunned. But the relief lasts only a second before anger floods in to replace it.
“Then why,” she says, stepping closer, “did I have to spend time in that cell while you got to play the hero?”
“Aria—”
“No.” Her voice rises, sharp and broken at the same time. “You let me think you betrayed me. You let me sit in there and hate you. You humiliated me in front of everyone. What, you couldn’t think of another way to do it? You had to make me the pawn in your game?”
I take the blow. I deserve it.
“I didn’t do it to hurt you,” I say quietly. “I did it because I knew Miranda would try to blame you. I could see it coming. She needed someone expendable to take the fall—and you were the perfect target. The smart rival. The one who got too close to the truth.”
She shakes her head, tears of frustration glinting in her eyes. “That doesn’t make it right.”
“No,” I admit. “It doesn’t. But it made it airtight.”
She frowns. “What are you talking about?”
“Your alibi,” I say. “You were in police custody. There’s no way you could have deleted the footage or covered anything up from inside that cell. The moment they tried to pin it on you, the evidence proved them wrong. It’s what forced their hand. It’s what exposed Miranda’s manipulation.”
Her lips part, but she doesn’t say anything right away.
Then, slowly, she says, “Why couldn’t you have been the one in jail while I solved the jewel theft? Why did you get to be out there solving crimes?”
I look at her—really look at her—and for once, I stop trying to come up with the perfect answer.
“Because I knew they’d falsify one of our credentials,” I tell her. “And if it was me—if they tried to ruin my name, frame me, throw me in a cell—I could live with that. I’ve dealt with worse. But if something happened to you…”
I pause, the words catching.
“…if something happened to you, I wouldn’t be able to live with myself. I needed you protected at all costs.”
She blinks, caught off guard by the quiet in my voice.
“I wasn’t thinking about being the hero,” I continue. “I was thinking about you. About keeping you safe, no matter how much it cost me.”
“Presley…”
I step closer, my voice barely above a whisper now.
“I love you, Aria. I don’t know when it started—maybe somewhere between our first argument and the hundredth—but it’s real.
And I would go to the ends of the earth to protect you.
Even if that meant putting myself at risk. Even if it meant you hating me for it.”
She stares at me, motionless. The anger in her eyes softens, replaced by something else—something uncertain, fragile, and maybe just as dangerous.
For a long moment, neither of us moves. I reach for her hand, slowly, like I’m afraid she might disappear.
“I’m sorry,” I say, voice low. “For everything. For how I handled it. For hurting you.” I pause, trying to steady my breath. “But if you let me… I want to take the rest of my life to make it up to you.”
Her eyes meet mine, guarded and glinting in the sterile hallway light.
“I’m serious,” I say. “Starting now.”
I gently wrap my fingers around hers. She hesitates for a beat, but she doesn’t stop me. She lets me lead her out of the holding area, out past the frosted-glass walls of the Las Vegas PD lobby, and into the warm desert air outside.
I open the passenger door for her like she’s royalty. She gives me a look—half amused, half exhausted—but slides in without a word.
When I settle into the driver’s seat, I glance at her again. She’s looking out the window, but I can see the tension in her shoulders starting to melt.
“No more secrets,” I promise. “From here on out.”
Still no words. But she nods—just barely—and that’s enough for now.
I lean in and kiss the top of her head. Her hair still smells like jasmine. I pull back and start the engine. As we drive off into the neon glow of the Vegas strip, her hand stays in mine.
I’ll spend the rest of my life making protecting the love of my life.