Page 24

Jude

T he cleanup took less than a day.

We have so much proof. Cyclone set up cameras to catch everything.

The government's men were efficient, erasing every trace of the gunfight like ghosts.

The senator’s hired killers—what was left of them—were handed over to federal agents who arrived in the dead of night, silent and grim. CIA agents and the FBI all knew me.

I stood outside the ranch house as the sun rose, the sky a soft, aching pink.

My hands were shoved into the pockets of my jeans, my heart hollow and full all at once.

It was over.

The man who had destroyed my life was behind bars. I had my doubts he would last a week in prison. The nightmare I had carried for so long was finally ending.

And now... There were things I needed to do.

Things I needed to bury. Things I needed to face alone.

Cyclone came up beside me, close enough to touch but not pushing, never pushing.

She turned to him, her chest tight. “I have to go home,” she said quietly. “I have to... close the chapter. Visit their graves. Tell them it’s over.”

Cyclone’s jaw tensed. He didn’t say anything for a long moment.

“You don’t have to do it alone,” he said finally, voice rough with everything he wasn’t saying.

I smiled and made a soft, broken sound. “I do.”

I saw it—the war inside him. The part of him that wanted to fight me. The part that wanted to protect me. The part that just wanted me.

But Cyclone wasn’t the kind of man who loved halfway. He loved her enough to let her go if she needed it.

He nodded, the motion sharp and painful. “I’ll head back to California with my buddies,” he said, his voice gruff.

My chest ached. I hadn’t realized how much I had started counting on him being there—his steady presence, his quiet strength.

“I just need some time,” she whispered. “I need to figure out who I am now... without the anger. Without the ghosts.”

Cyclone stepped closer then, brushing a knuckle lightly down her cheek.

Not a kiss.

Not a demand.

Just a touch, like a promise.

“I’ll give you time, sunshine,” he said, voice low and sure. “But don’t wait forever.”

A tear slipped down my cheek before she could stop it.

He caught it with his thumb, his touch achingly tender.

“I’m not good at sitting still,” he added, a faint, crooked smile teasing the corner of his mouth. “You know where to find me.”

I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat.

“I’ll find you,” I promised, my voice breaking.

And somehow, we both knew—It wasn’t goodbye. Not really.

It was just goodbye for now .

Cyclone pressed a kiss to my lips, lingering there for a heartbeat that felt like forever.

Then he turned and walked away, his broad shoulders stiff, his hands fisted at his sides like a man walking into battle.

I watched until he climbed into the helicopter that came and picked them up.

Then I turned toward the horizon, my heart shattering and rebuilding all at once.

I had a promise to keep. A grave to visit. A life to reclaim.

And when I was ready...

I would find my way back to him.