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Leo read the headline over Kat’s shoulder. “MYSTERIOUS EXPLOSION AT COVERT LAB”. His jaw tightened with satisfaction. That would make Fox smile. Justice served with strategic demolition.

“Nightshade is destroyed,” Kat said. “Along with that god-awful hospital.”

“Amazing what a few strategically placed charges can accomplish when properly motivated individuals decide to clean house.” Brock rubbed his hands together.

The weight that had been pressing against Leo’s ribs for years eased.

It was over. Really, truly over. This time, he’d been fast enough. Smart enough. Strong enough. The children who might have been victims of Nightshade’s neural manipulation would grow up free, their minds their own.

The faces that had haunted his dreams—those young lives lost in Sangin—flickered through his memory. But now, the grief didn’t crush him. His chest didn’t constrict. His hands didn’t shake. The familiar weight that pressed against his ribs had lifted, replaced by something lighter.

Peace, maybe. Or at least the beginning of it.

He couldn’t bring those children back, couldn’t undo that impossible choice. But he’d helped ensure other children would never face the same fate.

Maybe that was enough. Maybe that was how redemption actually worked—not by erasing the past, but by choosing to do better in the present.

“Bit of hush hush housekeeping to catch you up on,” Brock said, his voice dropping to a more serious register. “Most of the loose ends have been tied up. Officially, anyway. Korolov—you did the world a favor. Eldridge…” He shook his head, his eyes reflective. “Sometimes we don’t get the full happy ending we wanted.”

Gage’s attention shifted to the cardboard boxes near the entrance. “Moving in together already? That was fast.”

Heat crawled up Leo’s neck, but he kept his expression neutral. “Kat’s office supplies. From Vauxhall Cross.”

“Clearing out?” Brock’s expression sharpened. “New assignment?”

Kat went still beside him. Her fingers found his waist and heat spread from the point of contact up through his ribs.

“Not exactly.” Something in her tone made his pulse trip. “I’ve taken a sabbatical. Six months. No assignments. Just… time to figure out what I want.” Her gaze locked with Leo’s. “And right now, that’s you. If you’ll have me.”

His chest constricted, breath catching on words that felt too important to get wrong. Six months. With him. This brilliant, fierce woman choosing him over the career that had defined her entire adult life.

“Of course.” He drew her against him until he could feel her heartbeat through the thin fabric of her shirt. “Six months, six years—however long you want. You’re mine and I’m yours. That’s not changing.”

The certainty in his own voice surprised him. After years of believing he didn’t deserve happiness, here he was taking it with both hands.

“Six months is a long time, Kit-Kat,” Gage said, his voice gentler. “How well do you really know Viking here?”

Kat’s fingers curled into his side. Her steady breath undid something deep in his chest. He didn’t need a history lesson to know what she meant to him. He felt it in his bones—she was it.

The air thickened with expectation. He’d spent a lifetime trying to stay untouchable. But not here. Not with her.

“Well enough to know she’s safe with me,” Leo said, voice like granite. “Well enough to know I’d die before I let anyone hurt her. Including you if you try to undermine what’s between us.”

The temperature in the room dropped several degrees. Gage’s eyebrows shot up, but Leo wasn’t finished. This man needed to understand exactly what he was dealing with.

“I know you’re her brother and you’ve protected her your whole life. But she’s with me now, and I protect what’s precious to me.” Leo’s eyes never wavered from Gage’s face. “And I’m extremely good at protecting what I love.”

The words came from somewhere primal, a place that had nothing to do with operational training and everything to do with the way Kat had looked at him when she’d named the cat Oslo.

Like he was home.

Gage blinked, clearly recalibrating his assessment. A grudging smile tugged at his mouth. “That was refreshingly direct.” He pushed off the doorframe and extended his hand. “Well then. Welcome to the family, I suppose.”

Leo studied the offered hand for a heartbeat before reaching out to meet it. Their handshake was firm, direct—no power play, just mutual recognition of what they both wanted to protect.

“Thank you,” Leo said, meaning it more than Gage probably realized.

The weight of the moment settled in his chest. Her brother’s acceptance meant something he hadn’t expected to want. A place at her table, in her world, in the quiet spaces between missions where real life happened.