TWENTY-ONE
Cece
“Thanks, Ranger,” I hear someone say.
My head is fully nestled in Levi’s chest like he can’t bear for me to see whatever is happening around me. He thinks I’m scared.
I’m not. I’m… overstimulated. For the past so many hours, I’ve been holding on to the fact that today will be the day I finally resume my medication. It’s been three whole days.
And I have made zero efforts to grab them from my office desk—where I left them the day of the clause leak. I should get them.
I should.
I know it’ll be a while before the effects wear off. But I’ve never not been on medication for eight years. It became second nature after a year on Aripiprozole. Then years passed with my dosage being changed—increased. And now I’m on Seroquel.
Maybe I should discuss it with Dr. Reed, about tapering my meds off. Can I go on without them?
I flinch in Levi’s arms again when I hear Mrs. Astor’s wild scream again. She hasn’t stopped for a good few seconds.
But I’m getting more and more agitated about the hold Levi has on me. I can’t even turn to see what’s happening around me and my whole body twitches with curiosity and this voracious need for information.
My gut burns with a sudden urge to move. And I do. I know Levi won’t restrain me.
That’s when I finally take the scene in. Charles Gaither is grunting and dry heaving, holding his bloodied hand that was a target of a bullet. Odette is staring wide-eyed at Levi and me. Her face looks defeated with the acknowledgment that it’s over.
Gareth and Thomas are squirming and flailing as two agents hold each of them in place.
I didn’t even realize. Someone made sure that the rest of the board was quietly escorted out of the hall.
I spot it a little too late, but I see Sebastian’s hand shifting behind him. The click of a safety being re-engaged is unmistakable.
His expression doesn’t change. He’s tucking his gun away, like it’s an afterthought. Like him disarming Charles Gaither was a tedious detour. Like Charles trying to shoot someone in a boardroom was just another Tuesday for him. He looks so different from the college days when we’d known each other.
There’s a spatter of blood still trailing down Charles’s knuckles, and he’s clutching them like the weight of what he just tried to do hasn’t caught up yet.
Seb doesn’t look impressed. Honestly, he looks… bored. Almost like he’s waiting for the curtain to close on this performance.
No one speaks, for maybe five seconds. Maybe less. But my senses are all glassy and stretched—like the inside of a snow globe that just got upended. Everything is muffled. Everything is… floating.
Until one of the officers from possibly RCMP steps forward. He’s tall, steady, dressed in full tactical gear, but not loud about it.
He holds up a thick folder.
“This is a federal order,” he begins, his voice carrying the practiced sharpness of a polished blade. “Based on the findings of Blackthorn Security, our own audit of over four decades of cross-border financial crimes, and additional corroboration from allied intelligence.”
He turns to the newly decorated felons. “Odette Astor, Thomas Astor, Gareth Astor, and Charles Gaither. You are all under arrest for conspiracy to commit fraud, money laundering, obstruction of justice, unlawful foreign intelligence contracting, and for endangering national security.”
A gasp ripples behind me. Levi.
The officer continues, impassive. “Funds from Astor Holdings Capital Funds Division were traced to shell companies that directly financed human trafficking rings and hostile intelligence entities operating against Canadian and allied interests.”
Odette lets out a sound. I think it’s a sob. It might be a breath. But the horror on her face tells me one thing: she didn’t know the full extent.
She wanted designer handbags and her baubles. She got treason.
I don’t even flinch when Gareth starts snarling again.
But I do flinch when he sets his eyes on me.
That same, venomous look. The one he used to pin me to the wall.
The one I once mistook for power. “You… you did this, didn’t you?
” he spits, lunging forward against the agent’s grip.
“I told you to stay the fuck away, Cece—”
His words cut out mid-breath.
Because Levi is no longer beside me. No longer holding me in place. I’m no longer warm.
I hear the violence before I see it.
A dull thud, like meat and marble colliding. Levi.
He slams Gareth back against the polished concrete wall, one arm twisted in Gareth’s collar, the other buried in his greying hair. And then he drives his own uncle’s head into the wall.
Once. Twice.
My breath catches. Not out of fear. Out of memory.
Because I remember that sound. Because the skull cracking against a wall was mine once.
But Levi isn’t done. “You’ll keep your fucking mouth shut, Uncle,” he growls, his voice low and guttural. “You don’t get to speak her name. You don’t get to look at her.”
He slams Gareth again. “You think you were smart, huh? Hiding this shit? You think hurting Cece made you stronger—untouchable?”
Gareth tries to speak but only garbled syllables bubble out of his mouth.
“You’re a traitor,” Levi seethes, shoving him to the floor, breathless. “A fucking coward. And you hurt my wife. So fucking burn in hell.”
My… wife?
I don’t even get a second to dwell on it. I genuinely expect agents to intervene when I helplessly look around. Even that Kabir guy is looking at everything unfolding with a curious smirk. I expect someone—anyone—to step forward and stop Levi from getting an assault charge.
But nothing happens. I glance sideways toward Sebastian standing near the team.
His hand is raised in a silent halt. Like the freakin’ agents are taking instructions from him.
God! Who is he?
His gaze doesn’t waver. Doesn’t blink. And I realize something that sends a quiet jolt through me: Sebastian didn’t just authorize this.
He orchestrated it. He’s in charge somehow. And he’s letting Levi finish what justice probably cannot.
The room is still loud with Odette’s occasional screaming and sobs of “this is wrong!” and “I didn’t do anything!”—but all of it sounds like cotton to my ears.
Because I’m starting to feel it. The hum behind my eyes. The ache in my limbs. The clawing ants of irritation under my skin.
Withdrawal. Surrender.
I’ve been off Seroquel for three days, and I can feel the fog gathering—no, tightening.
The fog has teeth. I press a hand to my temple, but I don’t let myself sway.
Levi staggers back, somewhat toward me, breathing heavy, jaw clenched.
His knuckles are red. But they lose some of that color when he fists them, drawing it back landing a punch on Gareth’s jaw.
His own uncle. I feel my blood sinking into the coldness of insensitivity.
My eyes no longer register the violence.
It is what it is.
But then Levi looks at me after rendering Gareth to the floor, whimpering and gurgling against his own blood.
And when his eyes find mine, he softens.
He steps toward me, gathers me back into his arms like the weight of what he just did can only be shouldered if I’m there to hold him through it.
Can I?
Levi’s gaze is tactfully avoiding his parents and I can’t seem to find the courage to comfort him. This has to be an awful thing for him.
But I can’t because I’m unable to tether myself to this moment.
It’s almost as if I blink and the whole atmosphere changes. Odette, Thomas, Gareth, and Charles are gone. So are half the agents. My hands are knuckle-tight with Levi’s blazer while his hands are still warm around my waist.
“Sorry about that,” a voice cuts in beside us, far too casual for what just happened. “Didn’t go exactly as planned, but still under control, I’d say.”
I peel myself away from Levi’s chest just enough to glance up. Kabir is smiling, while Sebastian stands beside him—grave and calm.
Seb gives me a quiet, weighted smile. The kind that acknowledges trauma without inviting you to talk about it. I appreciate it more than I can say. But I still can’t bring myself to smile back.
Instead, I look at Kabir with the flattest expression I can manage. “You haven’t been around civilians in a while, have you?”
His grin falters. He opens his mouth to respond, stops, frowns. “Uh… no. Actually, yeah. Been about three years?” He glances at Sebastian for confirmation. “Yeah, three.”
I exhale a breath that almost turns into a laugh. Tired and disbelieving. Levi’s arms tighten instinctively around me, like he’s trying to keep something—me or himself—from unraveling.
Seb just shakes his head, lips twitching faintly. He doesn’t speak, but the message is clear: you’ve got my support. No matter what.
I glance up at Levi and regret it instantly.
His face is blank. Too blank. The kind of vacancy that looks like it was carved out of him. His family was just dragged out in cuffs. One still screaming. One broken. The third unrepentant and bloodied.
I don’t know what to say. I don’t think words would even touch the edge of what he must be feeling.
“We’ll…” I start, my voice catching, “we’ll head out.”
I turn to Sebastian. “Thank you, Seb. I’ll call you soon with—”
—I don’t freaking know.
He lifts a hand gently and places it on my shoulder. Stopping me before I can fumble through any attempt at closure. There is no closure. Not yet.
I nod, quietly, and Kabir gives us a quick, tight smile. “Don’t worry. We’ve got the clean-up handled.”
We start walking.
“You’re okay?” Levi murmurs once we’re a few steps away, his voice hoarse. But it doesn’t sound like a question. It sounds like he’s trying to reassure himself, almost pleadingly.
“We’re okay,” I answer, softly. More for him than for me. I nudge him toward the elevator.
But my chest is a coil of dread. The story about his “mistress” is still out there unanswered. This new scandal, this explosion of legacy and power and betrayal—it will swallow the news cycle soon.
And Levi… Levi knew it would happen. He chose to let it happen.
But that doesn’t mean he’s ready for the price.
As we step into the elevator, his fingers tighten around mine, and all I feel from him is rage. A caged, restrained rage.
And I know when it cracks open, we’ll burn.