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Leo’s small form curls against me on the leather couch, head resting on my lap after exhaustion finally claimed him about an hour ago. My fingers absently stroke his sandy blond hair. The gesture is as much to comfort myself as it is him.

The mansion is quiet now, the chaos of the day’s events settling into an uneasy calm. Seb left about thirty minutes ago. Even Eli has retreated to his post outside, leaving me alone with my thoughts and my sleeping nephew.

The grandfather clock in the hall chimes midnight, its deep resonance echoing through the empty rooms. Eve still isn’t home. I know she has to deal with the aftermath of tonight’s operation—the “official” version of events that will make it into police reports—but each passing hour sets my teeth on edge. The need to have her here, safe under my roof where I can protect her, claws at my insides.

My phone buzzes softly in my pocket. I shift carefully, trying not to disturb Leo as I check the message.

Eve

On my way home xoxo

Four simple words release all tension in my body. I type back a quick acknowledgment, then return to my vigil, watching shadows play across the walls from whatever movie is playing now.

Twenty minutes later, I hear the distinctive sound of the front door opening. Footsteps make their way through the house and down the hall. Eve. I’d know her stride anywhere.

When she appears in the doorway, the sight of her knocks the breath out of me. She looks exhausted, dark circles under her eyes matching the smudges of ash on her jacket. Her hairhangs loose around her shoulders, wild curls framing her face. But she’s here. She’s safe.

Her eyes immediately find Leo, softening as she takes in his sleeping form. Without a word, she moves to join us on the couch, her movements careful and controlled despite her obvious fatigue. The leather creaks softly as she settles beside me.

“Hey.” Her voice is barely more than a whisper as she reaches out to stroke Leo’s hair. Her other hand finds mine, fingers intertwining.

“Hey yourself.” I study her profile in the dim light, cataloging every detail. The slight tremor in her hand. The tension still visible in the set of her shoulders. The way she can’t seem to stop touching Leo, as if reassuring herself he’s really here.

We sit in companionable silence for a while, both lost in our own thoughts as we watch Leo sleep. He looks peaceful now, no trace of the terror. Children are remarkably resilient—something I learned the hard way growing up in the system.

Finally, Eve breaks the silence. “Thank you.” The words are soft but heavy with meaning.

I raise an eyebrow. “For what?”

She turns to face me fully, a knowing smirk playing at the corners of her mouth. “Don’t be coy with me, Ezekiel King. We found the bodies after the raid. Alessandro and all his top men, dead before we even started processing the scene. And all the damning information on Marcus Barone and his operations. It was like someone gift-wrapped the Columbus mafia and handed them to the police department.”

“Hmm.” I keep my expression neutral, though I can’t quite suppress a small smile. “I wonder how that happened.”

Her quiet laugh sends warmth spreading through my chest.

“I know you did it. No need to pretend otherwise.”

I study her face, searching for any sign of judgment or revulsion. Finding none, I allow myself to relax. “I’d do anything to keep my family safe.” The words come out rougher than intended, raw with an emotion. “I’ll take out every mafia family in Columbus if that’s what it takes.”

The intensity of my tone seems to startle her. She searches my face for a long moment before nodding slowly. “I know you would.” Her hand tightens in mine. “Come on, let’s put him to bed. He’ll be more comfortable there.”

I gather Leo carefully in my arms, his small body limp with exhaustion. He stirs a little but doesn’t wake as I stand, automatically adjusting my grip to support his head. Eve leads the way upstairs, her hand trailing along the banister as we climb.

In Leo’s room, toys are scatter the floor, comic books are stacked haphazardly on the bedside table. A nightlight casts soft blue shadows on the walls. It looks lived in. Like home.

Together, we manage to get him tucked under the covers without fully waking him. He mumbles something unintelligible as Eve kisses his forehead, then settles deeper into the pillows with a contented sigh.

I linger in the doorway, watching them: Eve’s tender expression as she fusses with Leo’s blankets. The way she smooths his hair back one last time before straightening. The casual domesticity of it all strikes something deep inside me—a longing I didn’t know I had until this moment.

When she joins me at the door, the same emotions play across her face. Without thinking, I pull her into my arms, needing to feel her solid and real against me. She comes willingly, melting into my embrace as if all the strength has suddenly left her body.

“He’s safe,” I murmur into her hair, as much to reassure myself as her. “We got him back.”

She nods against my chest, her fingers curling into my shirt. “We did.” A shuddering breath escapes her. “God, Zeke, when I think about what could have happened—”

“Don’t.” I tighten my hold on her. “He’s here. He’s safe. That’s all that matters.”

We stand there for a long moment, drawing comfort from each other’s presence as we watch Leo sleep. The events of the day—the violence, the fear, the desperate race against time—seem almost surreal now, like a nightmare fading in the light of dawn.