Chapter 16
Chapter
Sixteen
SCARLETT
Imake the call in the morning… because I can’t avoid it anymore.
Donovan’s already left for the station. He said he’d check in with Sheriff McLeod, too, make sure things from last night are in order.
The house is quiet when I dial, my finger hovering over the call button. I pace once across the kitchen, then back again, the echo of last night still lingering in the walls.
Then I hit it. It rings twice. Three times…
“Deputy Marshal Carter speaking.” Her voice is familiar—flat and efficient.
My chest tightens at the name. Even now… even after everything.
“This is—” I stop myself. Reset. “This is Marielle Scarlett Ocasta.”
“Ms. Ocasta,” a firm female voice repeats.
“I need to report a breach,” I say. My voice doesn’t shake. This isn’t about running anymore. It’s about staying.
“Location?”
I give it.
There’s a pause on the other end.
“We’re aware.”
The words land wrong. My grip tightens on the phone. “You’re aware,” I repeat.
“Yes.”
“That’s it?”
“We’ve been tracking movement tied to your original case. There’s been activity for the last few weeks. And then the call from the sheriff last night.”
My stomach drops, still stuck on the first half of her admission. “And you didn’t think to tell me?”
“We didn’t want to compromise your location.”
A sharp breath leaves me. “You mean the location that was just torn apart?” I ask, remembering the man who walked into it like he already owned me.
Silence greets me on the other end of the line. No excuses or apologies. It’s so much worse.
“I don’t understand how he found me. How any of this happened.”
“Your former witness subject made contact with known associates after a temporary release hearing.”
Cold spreads through my chest. “Temporary… what?”
“He was released,” Carter says. “There was movement… enough for us to intervene.”
Intervene.
I close my eyes. “Please tell me clearly what happened.”
There’s a long pause. “He’s back in federal custody.”
Typical. No explanation. No assurances.
“And that’s it? That’s all I get to know?”
“He’s back in federal custody,” she repeats like she’s slamming a metal door for good.
I picture it. Not the courtroom. Not the paperwork. Him. On his knees. Looking at me like I was the one who took everything from him.
“I know. Because of me.” My breath leaves me slowly. But I need more answers, some kind of reassurance. “Back… as in—”
“As in he’s not getting out anytime soon.”
I lean against the counter. My legs don’t feel steady. “You’re sure?”
“As sure as we can be.”
The words don’t calm me, but knowing I’ve made a decision to hold my ground—to fight back—does. “What about his people?” I ask.
“Disrupted,” Carter says. “Not eliminated.”
Of course not. It’s never that clean.
“You’re still at risk,” she adds. “We recommend immediate relocation.”
There it is. The next move, the next name, the next life. I stare at the wall.
“I’m not relocating,” I say. The words come out quiet. But they don’t waver.
I didn’t run last night. I’m not starting again now.
There’s a long pause. “That’s not advisable.”
“I’m not asking.”
Silence stretches.
“In other words, you’re choosing to leave the program.”
Am I?
The question lands heavier than I expect. I think about my house. The door. The drawers. Everything pulled apart.
I think about last night, the gun steady in my hand. My voice not breaking.
And then, I think about the past year. A year of running and hiding. Of feeling like prey rather than a person in control of my destiny. Waiting for someone else to decide when I was safe.
What settles it is him… standing in that doorway, covered in smoke and soot, looking at me like I’m his everything.
“You weren’t protecting me,” I say.
She counters, “We did what we could—”
“It wasn’t enough.” The words come out sharper now. “I don’t feel safe with you.”
“If you leave, you lose protection,” she says flatly, like she couldn’t care one way or the other. It’s been this way ever since I testified and they got what they wanted. “That means federal protection, financial support, and relocation services.”
“I get that.”
“Understood,” she says after a long pause. “We’ll need a signed statement confirming you’re declining continued protection. We can arrange to meet—”
“No.”
“Then we’ll document this remotely.”
It feels final, not scary.
“Will you at least stay in contact?” she asks.
I consider it. “Yes.” Because I’m not reckless. But I’m done letting them decide everything. “If you promise to stay in contact with me… this time.” I can’t help the last words. They echo the anger and bewilderment still flooding me at all that I didn’t know before this call.
“Noted,” she says. “You’re on your own from here, Marielle.” She adds, “Your alias remains valid. We highly recommend you maintain it, though we can no longer guarantee its security.”
The line goes dead.
I don’t move right away. The phone stays in my hand for a long moment, like I can’t let go of it or this moment.
Finally, I set it down slowly, breathing in and out.
That’s it. No more running… or waiting for the other shoe to drop. The realization settles deep, but it doesn’t scare me anymore, which has to mean something.
The front door opens behind me. I don’t turn right away. I don’t have to because I know it’s him. Pine and spice fill the air, and my chest warms, shoulders relaxing.
“Hello, Burgundy,” he says, sliding up next to me and pulling me close.
“How was your day?” I ask, pasting on my best smile.
“Fine. Though there’s plenty of gossip going around the station these days. You think we caused trouble?” Donovan says. “You should hear what Waldon’s up to.”
“Seriously?”
“Actually… better yet, let me show you.”
He pulls out his phone, scrolling before handing it to me.
I read:
Waldon
You still got bail money?
Donovan
Why?
Waldon
Hypothetically speaking… how bad is it if you kiss your best friend’s little sister?
I cover my mouth, laughing. “Oh, he’s in trouble.”
Donovan huffs. “He’s a dead man.”
I glance back at the screen.
Yeah.
He really is.
He closes his phone, setting it down on the table. Then, he stops, eyeing me for a long moment. “You alright?”
I nod once. Then I turn.
He looks as steady and solid as ever, like nothing in the world could shake him. But now I see it differently. He’s not just someone I might lean on. He’s someone I chose. And keep choosing.
“I made the call,” I say.
His jaw tightens slightly. “And?”
“He’s back in custody.”
Relief flickers behind his eyes. “What does that mean for you?”
It’s a fair question. A big one.
I walk toward him slowly, each step deliberate. “It means I don’t have to run anymore,” I say.
“Doesn’t mean there’s no risk.”
“No,” I agree. “It doesn’t.” I stop in front of him, close enough to feel the heat of him. “But I’m not leaving.”
His gaze sharpens. “Because of him?”
“Because of me.” I shake my head. “I’m done living like I don’t get a say.”
He nods.
“And because of us,” I add. “Because I can’t settle for one best night. I want an entire lifetime... with you.”
His hand comes up slowly, resting against my jaw. “You sure?”
“More sure than I’ve ever been. And there’s one more thing,” I say, tilting my head to look up at the big cowboy.
“Deputy Marshal Carter confirmed my alias is valid. It still stands. That means you’re stuck with me… and Scarlett… and a valid marriage.”
He doesn’t hide his enthusiasm, kissing me long and hard.
“You took that better than I thought,” I say breathlessly when he finally pulls back.
“Only just started celebrating.”
“Celebrating?” I ask.
“You, me, my cowboy hat, and stars for a blanket. Tonight, you’re going to learn how to ride in the back of my pickup bed.”
Never thought I’d hear words like that. Never thought they’d sound so damn good.
“Mmm,” I moan softly. “Sounds like another deliciously bad choice.”
“The best,” he says, and then he sweeps me off my feet.