Chapter Twenty-Three #2
Ant thought of the vision - Ronald Finch, working late at his desk. That moment of realization when Claudius entered the room. The fear. The paralysis. The slow drain of life while his mind screamed helplessly. Justice delayed, but not denied.
“Good,” he said quietly.
Viktor’s hand found his under the table, squeezing gently. I know what you saw, babe. And I know it cost you.
Ant squeezed back. The vision was over. Claudius was in custody. Ronald Finch’s family would have answers. That is all that matters.
“What about the estate itself?” Robert asked. “I assume the Justiciary seized the property?”
“The estate, all financial assets, and every shell corporation Claudius created over the past eighty years,” Bridget confirmed.
“The victims will be receiving restitution from the liquidated assets, and whatever’s left will go to covering legal fees and fines.
Claudius’s coven is being dissolved entirely.
Vampires who committed no crimes are free to go, and the rest are facing charges. ”
“How many people were arrested in the end?” Ant asked.
“Seventeen, including Claudius. Most of the coven members were complicit in the financial schemes, even if they weren’t directly involved in the murder.
” Bridget’s expression hardened. “Apparently, using vampiric trance on wealthy targets was considered an acceptable ‘coven resource.’ They all knew what Claudius was doing, and they all benefited from it.”
Viktor made a disgusted sound. “Typical.”
“You’re not surprised,” Robert observed.
“No. Covens like that - old money, old rules, old vampires - they always think they’re above human law.” Viktor’s jaw tightened briefly. “They forget that the world moved on without them decades ago.”
“Well, this particular coven is done,” Bridget said with satisfaction. “The Raven Estate will be dismantled, the wards will be stripped, and the property will be sold. Every cent goes toward restitution.”
“Forty families,” Ant murmured. “That’s significant.”
“Forty-three confirmed victims, spanning six decades. Some of them are elderly now. Some of them were enthralled as young adults and had their entire inheritances stolen. Others are middle-aged and have lost their parents’ estates.
A few are recent cases, like Ronald Finch.
” Bridget’s expression softened. “They’re all going to get justice. Because of you.”
Ant shook his head. “Viktor kept me alive.”
“You figured out the evidence chain,” Viktor countered.
“Robert provided the ward analysis.”
“Bridget mobilized the Justiciary,” Robert added.
“Able stood guard,” Viktor finished. Under the table, the German shepherd’s tail thumped in agreement.
Bridget laughed. “Fine. It was a team effort. Now, can we please talk about literally anything else? I’ve been drowning in legal paperwork for three days straight, and if I have to read one more motion to dismiss I’m going to lose my mind.”
“What would you prefer to discuss?” Ant asked.
“Anything. The weather. Sports. Celebrity gossip. Whether pineapple belongs on pizza.”
“It does not,” Viktor said immediately.
“Thank you,” Bridget said. “See? This is why I like you.”
Robert raised his hand tentatively. “I actually don’t mind pineapple on pizza.”
Bridget stared at him. “We need to talk.”
“It’s a textural contrast…”
“Nope. No. We’re breaking up.”
“Bridget…”
“I’m joking.” She kissed his cheek. “But you’re wrong, and I’m judging you for it.”
Ant watched the easy affection between his sister and her boyfriend, the way Viktor relaxed further into his chair as the conversation drifted away from Claudius and the Raven Estate.
This is what normal looks like, he realized.
Dinner with family, ridiculous debates about food, and even a loyal dog hoping for scraps under the table.
For someone who struggled to describe emotional subtext and who approached the world through logic and literal interpretation, Ant found these moments surprisingly easy to understand.
Because there was nothing subtle about the warmth in the room, and nothing hidden in the loyalty between him and Viktor, or the protective love Bridget showed every day, or Robert’s gentle steadiness.
I may not understand all the social cues, Ant thought, but I understand this.
“…and that’s when the tire exploded,” Bridget was saying, gesturing animatedly. “We’re in the middle of the highway, and it’s rush hour traffic. Robert pulled over, opened the trunk, and discovered that not only was there no spare, but someone had replaced the jack with a bag of potatoes.”
“Potatoes?” Viktor repeated.
“Five pounds of russet potatoes,” Robert confirmed, looking pained. “I still don’t know how they got there.”
Ant blinked. “Why would someone replace a jack with potatoes?”
“That’s what I said!” Bridget threw her hands up. “But there we were, stranded on the side of the road with no spare tire, no jack, and enough potatoes to make dinner for six people, which was useless at the time because we didn’t even have a camp stove.”
“What did you do?” Viktor asked, genuinely curious now.
“I called roadside assistance,” Robert said. “They took forty minutes to arrive, during which time Bridget threatened to hex three separate drivers who honked at us.”
“They were being rude,” Bridget said primly.
“One of them was an ambulance.”
“He could have gone around.”
Ant felt his mouth curve into a smile. This is exactly what we needed. He and Bridget used to go out for meals quite often before he’d met Viktor, but now…he could see many future dinners ahead of them and found he really liked the idea.
Viktor caught his expression and leaned closer. “You okay?” he murmured, quiet enough that the others wouldn’t hear.
“Yes,” Ant said, and he meant it.
His mate’s hand squeezed his again. Good. That’s all I need to know.
Across the table, Bridget launched into another story – something involving a disastrous client meeting and a pot of cold coffee - while Robert listened with a half-smile on his face.
Able had, apparently, given up on subtlety and simply rested his chin on Ant’s knee, fixing him with soulful eyes that suggested starvation was imminent despite the multiple treats he’d already received.
This is what matters, Ant thought, scratching absently behind his dog’s ears. Not the cases we solve or the criminals we catch, but this, right here. Home.