Chapter 33
ELLA
For a moment after the shots, I couldn’t hear anything.
Not the rain.
Not my own breathing.
Not Sabine.
It was as if the world had pulled cotton over my ears and wrapped my body in something thick and unreal. My arms were empty for half a second—weightless—before Sabine was suddenly there, pressed into me, small and shaking.
I didn’t remember leaving the room. I didn’t remember moving.
I only knew that she was in my arms and alive.
Alive.
Her body trembled against mine in short, violent bursts, like her nervous system had finally caught up to what her eyes hadn’t fully processed. Her fingers dug into the front of my sweater—Rose’s sweater—clutching the fabric so tightly it stretched.
“Tante …” she whispered again, voice breaking.
“I’ve got you,” I murmured, my own voice raw. “I’ve got you. C’est fini. It’s over.”
I didn’t know if it was over.
I didn’t know if anything like this ever truly ended.
But she needed the words.
I lowered myself to the edge of the sofa, pulling her fully into my lap, tucking her face into my shoulder the way Ellsworth had just done. Her curls were damp from the rain and from Randy’s slicker. She smelled like soap and fear.
My hands shook as I stroked her back in slow, steady motions. Up and down. Up and down.
Behind me, I was vaguely aware of Kane moving. Of footsteps. Of the sound of metal being handled. Of Ellsworth’s measured, unhurried exit.
The room felt different now.
Quieter.
Heavier.
Randy lay on the floor in the next room. I tried not to think about it. I couldn’t. I focused on Sabine’s small heartbeat against my chest, fast and fluttering like a trapped bird.
“You’re safe,” I repeated softly. “Je suis là. I’m here.”
Her crying softened into hiccups.
She pulled back just enough to look at me, eyes glossy and enormous.
“Il était faché,” she whispered. He was angry.
“I know,” I said. “But he’s gone.”
That word again.
Gone.
I swallowed hard and held her tighter.
A few seconds later—maybe minutes—Kane stepped into my field of vision. He crouched in front of us, eyes scanning Sabine first, then me.
“You hurt?” he asked quietly.
I shook my head.
Sabine clung harder.
He didn’t touch her yet. He just stayed there, solid and present, letting her register that he wasn’t a threat.
And then I remembered.
étienne.
The force of it hit like a second wave.
My phone.
I fumbled for it with shaking hands, Sabine still plastered against me.
étienne had been unraveling at the school. Imagining the worst. Living inside the kind of terror that splits a parent in two.
My fingers barely cooperated as I unlocked the screen.
Sabine is safe. She is with me.
I hit send before I could overthink it.
The reply came almost instantly.
Merci mon Dieu. Merci. Is she hurt? Where are you? I am coming. Police?
My throat tightened again.
He had every right to call the police. To demand explanations. To demand arrests.
But Kane’s voice came softly from in front of me.
“No police.”
I looked up at him.
He didn’t say it harshly. Didn’t bark it like an order. Just stated it.
“No police,” he repeated quietly.
My pulse stuttered.
Behind his calm was something else.
Calculation.
I thought of Randy admitting he’d hired people. That he’d had Rose watched.
I thought of how fast everything had escalated once he felt cornered.
If police showed up now—sirens, questions, statements—Sabine would relive it all in fluorescent light.
And the story would unravel publicly.
Rose’s double life.
Her marriage.
The child she’d hidden.
The man on the floor.
I looked down at Sabine.
Her small hand was twisted in my sweater, knuckles pale.
She didn’t need flashing lights.
She needed quiet.
I typed back:
No police. Not right now. I will explain everything. I promise.
The three dots appeared. Disappeared. Appeared again.
Finally:
Okay. Please call.
The trust in that sentence nearly broke me.
Kane nodded.
Ellsworth reappeared at the doorway like nothing in the world surprised him.
“I’ll see to things here,” he said mildly.
See to things.
Like there wasn’t a dead man on the bedroom floor.
I stared at him, still trying to reconcile the polite, tailored British man with the fact that he had walked into that room and ended it in two silent breaths.
“Thank you,” I managed.
He inclined his head slightly.
“Get the child somewhere warm.”
The rain had softened to a mist outside, but the air still felt thick and electric as we descended the stairs.
This time, I didn’t notice the hallway. Didn’t notice the smell of old stone. Didn’t notice the way the lights flickered slightly.
I only felt Sabine’s weight in my arms.
Kane walked close—close enough that I could feel the heat of him without him actually touching me.
Protective.
Alert.
The SUV door opened before we reached it. The driver stepped out, scanning the street.
We climbed in quickly, Kane sliding in beside me while Sabine curled into my lap like she belonged there.
The engine started immediately.
Two additional vehicles pulled into position behind us.
Security.
Layers.
Protection.
As we pulled away from Rose’s building, my entire body sagged with delayed reaction.
It was over.
It had to be over.
The worst had happened and ended in the same breath.
Sabine rested her head against my chest, thumb creeping toward her mouth before she stopped herself, remembering she was five and not a baby.
I brushed damp hair away from her forehead.
“You’re very brave,” I whispered.
She blinked up at me solemnly.
Kane exhaled slowly beside us.
Only then did I look at him fully.
He was pale under the tan of his skin. Jaw tight. Eyes darker than usual.
“You okay?” I asked.
He nodded once.
“Yes.”
But his voice held something.
Restraint.
We locked eyes for a long second.
And then—unexpectedly—something in me snapped.
Not from fear.
From relief.
I leaned toward him and kissed him.
Hard.
Not slow. Not tentative. Not romantic.
Desperate.
Alive.
His hand came to my jaw instantly, steadying me, kissing me back with a force that matched the storm we’d just walked through.
For a second, the world shrank again.
Not to a gun.
To him.
To breath and heat and the fact that we were still here.
When we broke apart, my forehead rested against his.
“She could have—,” I whispered.
“I know.”
His thumb brushed under my eye, catching moisture I hadn’t realized was there.
The SUV continued through the wet streets, the caravan behind us tight and precise.
I glanced at Sabine.
Her eyes were open now, watching us with quiet curiosity.
She spoke softly.
“Est-ce mon oncle?”
The words were careful.
Is that my uncle?
I let out a shaky laugh.
Kane looked at me.
“She’s asking if you’re her uncle,” I translated, even though I figured he understood.
He raised an eyebrow slightly.
“Well,” he said gently, switching to careful French, accent rough but understandable. “Pas encore.”
Not yet.
Sabine studied him.
Then looked at me.
Her small brow furrowed thoughtfully.
I felt warmth bloom in my chest, fragile but real.
We were going to be okay.
The rain thinned further as we approached the quieter district near The Sanctuary. The streets were less crowded. More controlled.
The driver slowed slightly as we approached an intersection.
And then—
Everything shifted.
Two black vehicles pulled out from a side street.
Too clean. Too synchronized.
They didn’t speed. They didn’t swerve. They simply positioned themselves in front of us.
Blocking.
My stomach dropped.
Kane went still beside me.
Completely still.
His entire body changed in an instant.
“What is it?” I whispered.
He didn’t answer immediately.
His gaze tracked the vehicles ahead. The angles. The timing.
The driver behind us adjusted position.
The SUV slowed.
The convoy tightened.
Sabine sensed the change immediately. She sat up slightly.
“Reste avec moi,” I murmured, pulling her close again.
Kane’s hand found my knee.
“Listen to me,” he said quietly.
The tone in his voice erased any illusion that the trouble was over.
“Take her home.”
Home.
The Sanctuary.
“What are you—”
He was already reaching for the door handle.
“Kane.”
He looked at me fully now.
His expression was calm.
Too calm.
“Take her home,” he repeated.
“You can’t just—”
“I can.”
The finality in his voice left no space for debate.
He leaned forward, pressed his lips briefly to my forehead.
“I’ll be right behind you.”
I grabbed his wrist.
“Kane—”
His eyes softened for a fraction of a second.
Then hardened again.
“This is not your fight,” he said. “You protect her.”
The door opened.
Rain misted in.
He stepped out into the gray street without hesitation.
The SUV behind us shifted position, doors opening.
Men moved.
Fast.
Disciplined.
Weapons concealed but ready.
The vehicles ahead remained still.
Waiting.
I watched Kane walk forward alone, shoulders squared, posture unyielding.
He didn’t look back.
And fear bloomed fresh in my chest.
Not for Sabine.
For him.