72. Harper
HARPER
Ifollow behind Luke as he carries Turner to the courtyard outside.
Gabriel Reyes steps out of his badass SUV. “That was fast.”
Luke drops Turner at his feet. “The ladies were done dicking around.”
Gabriel glances at Mandy, who’s been quiet since we apprehended Turner, but it’s so quick I wonder if I imagined it. I look between them. Are they together? It doesn’t seem like it, although Gabriel Reyes is very hot. His eyes—I’ve never seen eyes that blue. But yeah, he’s kind of scary too.
Gabriel crouches beside Turner, studying him like he's assessing livestock. One of his men nudges Turner with a boot until he groans and his eyes flutter open.
The moment Turner sees Gabriel, the color drains from his face.
"Cole.” Gabriel smiles pleasantly. "We need to talk about the money you've been stealing from my family."
Turner's mouth opens. Closes. "I don't know what you're talking about."
Gabriel backhands him across the face so fast I barely see it coming. Turner's head snaps to the side, blood trickling from his split lip.
"Don't insult me," Gabriel says, his tone still friendly. He stands and gestures to his men. They haul Turner to his feet, ignoring his gasps of pain as they wrench his injured shoulders.
I should feel something—satisfaction or vindication, maybe. But all I feel is hollow.
"What are you going to do with him?" I ask.
Gabriel looks at me, and for a moment something almost human flickers in his eyes. "He'll get exactly what he deserves. I promise you that."
"And we'll never see him again?" Luke asks.
"You have my word." Gabriel extends his hand to Luke. "Thank you for your cooperation, Mr. Bennett. I won't forget this, and neither will my family."
Luke shakes it. “I wouldn’t mind a ride like yours,” he says with a joking grin.
Gabriel laughs, holding out his fist for a bump. “You have good taste.” He glances at me, giving Luke a sly grin, and then turns and goes to his vehicle.
Luke comes to put his arm around my shoulder, and we watch the Reyes contingent drive away.
I huddle into Luke’s side, staring at the empty doorway, my weapon still in my hand, my father's blood still drying on my jeans.
It's over.
Cole Turner is gone. My father is dead. And I'm standing in the wreckage of everything I thought I knew about justice.
Hendricks’s composed voice comes through the comms. “Alpha Actual to Recovery Team. Compound secure. Hostiles neutralized. Multiple female survivors. Priority is medical triage, ID, and transport to Safe Site Bravo. Move now. And be gentle.”
“Should we help?” I ask Luke.
He squeezes my shoulder. "We’d only get in the way."
Emergency vehicles pull up, and we move out of the way as they hurry into the house. Luke and I stand to the side, watching the women being loaded into vehicles, blankets wrapped around their shoulders, medics checking them over. Some are crying. Some are silent, their eyes wide and shocky.
We did this—we saved them. Not the law. Not the system. Us.
Luke's arm tightens around me. "You okay?"
I shake my head. "No."
"Yeah," he says. "Me neither."
Frowning, I look around. “Where’s Mandy?”
“Maybe she’s with Hendricks.” He shakes his head. “Come on.”
We walk away from the compound, past the vehicles, past all Hendricks’s personnel. Luke leads me to a spot near the tree line where we can see the sunrise but can't be seen from the compound.
He turns to face me, his hands coming up to frame my face. His face is streaked with dirt and sweat, his eyes bright and steady on mine.
"Your dad," he starts.
"Died saving me," I finish, my voice breaking. "I know."
"At the end, when it mattered, he did the right thing."
Tears blur my vision. "He did it too late."
"Maybe, but he still chose you.” He drops a tender kiss on my lips. “That counts for something."
I close my eyes and let the tears fall. Luke pulls me against his chest and holds me while I cry—for my father, for the years he wasted protecting Turner, for the man he could have been if he'd been braver sooner.
But also for the man he was at the end. The man who stepped in front of bullets meant for me.
"It's over, sunshine," Luke says quietly into my hair. "It's over."
I pull back just enough to look at him. "Is it?"
"Yeah." His thumb brushes away my tears. "It is."
I search his face—the hard lines, the exhaustion, the fierce protectiveness in his eyes.
"What happens now?" I ask.
"Now we go home."
"Home," I repeat, testing the word.
"Blackthorn," Luke says. "Our home."
Something shifts in my chest. Not healing—not yet—but the beginning of it.
"Yeah," I say, my voice steadier now. "Let's go home."
Luke takes my hand again, and we walk away from the compound together. Away from the wreckage and the bodies and the evidence of everything we've done.
Turner took a lot from us, but standing in Luke’s arms as the sun rises over Iron Ridge, I realize Turner failed to take the one thing that matters.
Our future.