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I nod shakily.
He pulls a clear plastic bag from a pocket, holding it open with one hand as he reaches forward for the knife. My fingers release the handle as his hand meets mine, taking over.
“Good,” he says. “Thank you.”
He seals the bag with a quiet zip and tucks it away.
I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself, but I still don’t know what’s going to happen next.
“Is Marcus going to be arrested?”
Please, no. Please, God, no.My whole body is shaking – part panic, part cold, all dread.
“Calm down, honey,” the second officer says gently. “Mister… Whitehead, here, was it? Just confessed to committing murder. He won’t be a problem to you anymore. The rest looks like pretty clear self-defence from where I’m standing. Wouldn’t you say so, John?”
Torres gives a curt nod.
A breath escapes me as Marcus walks up to me, wrapping his arms around me. His chest rises and falls against mine, his pulse slowing with every second he holds me close.
Relief crashes into guilt, adrenaline still roaring in my veins. My thoughts spin like a storm, too tangled to name, except for one that grounds me: we’re safe.
“Right, let’s get this one in the car,” Torres says, taking out a pair of handcuffs as they haul Chris inside.
“You okay?” Marcus whispers.
I nod, nuzzling my face against his chest, grounding myself in his warmth.
“I’m sorry to ask more of you two tonight, but unfortunately I need you to follow us down to the station to give a statement,” Torres says.
“Of course,” Marcus replies.
“We’ll get that nasty cut patched up as well. That looks quite deep there.”
The second officer looks down at the blood on the floor beneath my feet. “Looks like you may have stepped on some glass there, too. Are you alright to walk?”
“Yea, I’m okay, thank you,” I say.
The second officer leads Chris out the front door, and just as Torres turns to follow, I call out to him. “Wait –”
There’s a shout outside, and we all turn to see the officer restraining Chris bark something harshly at him, followed by the thud of Chris’s body being slammed against the side of a car echoing through the night.
Torres turns back to me.
“I’m dead thankful you were here,” I say, “…but how were you so close? How did you know where to find us? And that we were in danger?”
“Honestly?” he says. “I had a feeling you were holding something back. I wasn’t sure what it was, but there was something, so we traced your devices and followed you,” he says.
I nod, thinking about the last few days. “Thank you.”
“Good thing we did, too,” he says and smiles as he walks out through the front door.
The adrenaline surging through my veins recedes, and the sudden cold hits me like a ton of bricks. The front and back doors are both open and snow is billowing through the ground floor of the cottage.
Marcus pulls me tighter, pressing a kiss to the top of my head.
“It’s over,” he says.
I hold him, watching the blood dripping down his arm.