Chapter 31
I blink at the ceiling, stretch under the covers in Anton’s bed, and hope to hell it’s not super late. My alarm hasn’t gone off yet. I turn on my side toward where my big lug of a man should be and…he’s gone.
We fell asleep here together. Or at least I fell asleep here.
I touch his side, and it’s cold.
I push upright, rubbing my eyes. The soft light outside the window suggests that the sun is only just beginning to rise. The room is still dim, shadows pooling in the corners.
I didn’t even notice him get up.
Anton doesn’t rest easily. He sleeps like someone who’s spent a lifetime expecting bad things to happen in the dark. And last night, between the Braxton Hicks scare at the Marshalls’ and everything with the investigation, he was wound up tighter than usual.
I hope he’s okay. I really don’t think that man gets enough rest.
I’m scraping a bit of crust from the corner of my eye when the door opens.
Anton’s holding a mug of tea. “Hey, beautiful.”
I smile lightly. It’s a generous greeting, considering I still have my silk bonnet on, my eyes are puffy—thank you, water retention—and I’m probably not the picture of seduction. But Anton always looks at me like I’m easy on the eyes.
Unfortunately, he looks like death walked across his face sometime in the night and didn’t bother wiping its boots. He’s still gorgeous, of course, just not himself.
Dark circles shadow his eyes. His shoulders are locked. And his hair, normally perfectly rumpled in that lethal way, looks like he ran his fingers through it fifty times.
His eyes meet mine, and I instantly know something is wrong.
“Morning.” I push myself up in the bed and take the tea carefully from his hands.
He sits on the edge of the mattress and watches me as I drink, but he’s running script lines behind his eyes.
I lower the mug. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah.”
I arch an eyebrow.
He huffs a quiet, humorless laugh. “No. Not really.”
The honesty hits like a soft punch to the chest.
“Okay.” I put the mug on the bedside table and rest my hand on his. “Talk to me. You look like you haven’t slept. And even though I know you usually don’t sleep much, you never look like…this.”
“Shit, that bad?” He rubs a hand across the back of his neck, muscles flexing under his shirt.
I pinch a bit of his T-shirt fabric between my fingers and tug gently. “You’re still hot as hell, but…what’s going on?”
His aquamarine gaze hits me square in the chest. He’s struggling.
“You’re scaring me a little, Anton…”
He sighs roughly. “Rio came by last night.”
I blink. “Rio?” I must’ve been out cold. I didn’t hear a damn thing. “Why?”
He doesn’t answer right away. He looks down at the floor, inhales, and then lifts his gaze to mine with a weight I’ve never seen.
“He told me more about the case he brought to you,” he says quietly.
“Mariana Reyes?”
His jaw tics. “He came here last night to tell me Mariana also never drank, though her case was deemed reckless drunk driving. He mentioned post-mortem fermentation…”
I remember what that is from my training. “With both women deep in that quarry, it’s possible…”
“And another similarity, too. Mariana came into some unexpected cash just before her accident.”
A chill whispers over my skin. “Really? Shit…we might be able to see other things through a pattern…”
But this should be a positive development.
I squeeze his hand. “Why do you look like you’ve been through a war?”
Anton’s jaw tightens.
“Because Rio asked Enzo and Ava to start hacking last night, doing anything they could to put two and two together. He didn’t come here to ask. He came here to tell.”
My pulse kicks. That’s…illegal.
“Subpoenas take days,” he shakes his head. “Weeks sometimes. He doesn’t want this to slip through his fingers.”
I’m not sure this is a good idea.
“But why not continue following other leads? We have Mace…and finding him…”
“Honey,” he stops me. “Rio and Mariana were together.” He stares at me with such intensity, I know he’s urging me to read into his words so he doesn’t have to say too many.
“Rio’s carried this a long time. He blamed himself for her accident.
They argued before she died, the report said she was drunk.
” He gazes at me earnestly. “He’s carried that for years. ”
I can’t imagine what it’s like to argue with someone you love and spend the rest of your life wondering if that fight pushed them over the edge.
But if Mariana was murdered, it would reframe Rio’s entire past. Lift his sense of shame. I want to give it to him, clear him of the weight of that if I can, but…
“We still have new information to follow.”
“You’re right,” he agrees. “But what will move this case along is seeing Zoe’s cell records, money transfer, bank statements.”
I finish his thought. “All require subpoenas.”
“In Rio’s mind, he’s waited long enough. He issued Ava and Enzo to move on this last night.”
Without me? I don’t know how to feel. I know they all trust my instincts, but hell, I’m not a hacker; I don’t have access to the dark web and crazy tools to catch people as if by wizardry.
I get the urgency.
And there’s a long road ahead.
But…the law. Where is its place in this? I know Anton used to chase vigilante justice, but will I?
“The subpoena won’t be too long…” I say half-heartedly.
“I know.” He takes my hand and lifts it, placing a gentle kiss on the back.
“And I also know we have only a day maybe two before Ingram hears about our trip to the Marshalls’.
Even though you’re not logging notes yet, even though we talked about keeping this all low-key, about letting him think you’re still chasing Tarmigan…
news will eventually travel. It’s a small town. ”
He’s right. Ingram doesn’t see everything I do, but at some point, the Marshalls will mention our visit to someone, and the gossip chain will take care of the rest.
A tension line forms in his jaw.
“And if he’s covered up, not one but two deaths,” he says softly, “we want to blindside him. Not give him a head start.”
Everything Anton is saying is true.
“Freya…” He brushes the back of his fingers along my cheek. “There’s something else.”
I furrow my eyebrows. God, how can there be more?
“Rio will listen to you,” he says. “He said if you walk into the offices today and tell them to wait for the subpoenas, they’ll stop.”
Something snatches my heart and squeezes it in my chest.
Responsibility. Weight. Power I don’t take lightly.
He sighs roughly. “That’s what kept me up all night.”
The world stops between us.
“Because I’m asking you not to do that.”
What?
Anton’s blue gaze is raw.
He drags a hand down his face. “I know this is a big ask. I know who your mom is. I know who you are. I know what it means to teeter on the edge like this…what it could cost you.”
He swallows thickly.
“Rio needs this,” he says quietly, his thumb brushing my jaw. “And I need it resolved. For you. For our baby. Time doesn’t give us anything back once it’s gone.”
Anton has never asked me for anything.
He’s carried everything on those broad, unbreakable shoulders—the fear, the pressure, the protection he gives so instinctively; it’s in his marrow.
He’s been my pillar, my shield, my storm wall…but he’s never asked me to be his.
Until now.
And the weight of that trust hits harder than anything else.
I think of the oath I took. I think of the badge in my top drawer. I think of my mother—the woman who breathes justice and holds the world accountable, the woman who raised me to believe the law is the spine of everything good.
And yes…what Rio’s doing is illegal. There’s no polite language to wrap around that truth.
But then I think of my mom as a person, not the prosecutor, not the voice of the law, but the woman who stayed up with me through every fever, fought teachers who underestimated me, refused to let anyone imply I was fragile or less.
Faith Johnson would bend the world for the people she loves. She would bulldoze mountains if that’s what it took to protect them.
And I would, too.
Anton’s big, warm hand is still wrapped around mine, and I guide it over my bump, over the tiny life we promised to protect.
Then I gaze into those ocean eyes, at the man who didn’t sleep last night because he was tortured by asking me for something.
This is my moment to give back.
It’s not simple—it’s layered, messy, terrifying in the way only truth can be. I could lose the job I worked damn hard to earn.
For so many years, I thought that if I just found the right uniform to wear, I’d finally be successful. If I only achieved a standard the outside world understands, I’d be worth a damn.
But I’m more than that now. Yes, I’m an officer but also a mom-to-be, a girlfriend, a confidante, and a neighbor who wants to make this town safe again.
I want a life standing beside this man, not just behind my badge.
I breathe in, let the decision anchor itself in my chest. “Let’s just say this conversation never happened.”
He closes his eyes briefly, and the exhale he lets out comes from a breath he’s been holding all night.
I’m unsettled by how much that release tells me—how serious this was, how carefully he’d been holding himself together until I spoke.
I didn’t just agree to help. I took on a part of what he’s been carrying. If we’re doing this life together, it’s how it should be.
Still, the fallout could be brutal if this ever leads back to me.
And I don’t know which scares me more—that, or what they might find.