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Stella slipped an arm around Hagen’s waist and pulled him close. A large bandage covered the stitches on his temple.

Both Hagen and Lucas had suffered some nasty wounds from their adventure. Lucas, however, had been attended to at the hospital by, of all people, Journey’s sister, the efficient head of the Evidence Response Team. Michelle had then reprimanded both Stella and Journey for their partners’ wounds.

Stella liked her and the whole Pittsburgh team.

She was relieved for them too. They didn’t have to say goodbye to one of their own, despite the close call.

She and Hagen stood beside Alessandra’s grave at Nashville City Cemetery. Her casket hung inside a metal frame above the opening, ready to be lowered. The rain rolled over the lid and left wet traces on the polish.

Rain rattled off the umbrella they shared, but an occasional breeze blew drops into his face that ran down his dressing and dripped from his cheekbone.

Despite the cold that kept Stella shivering inside her coat, she was grateful for the weather. Hagen wouldn’t have wanted anyone to notice his tears. Only she could see that the redness in his eyes and the moisture on his face had nothing to do with the bruises on his skin.

Stella didn’t want the funeral workers to place the casket in the ground. The earth was too wet. The weather was too cold. Alessandra shouldn’t be down there in that damp mud.

She pushed the thought out of her head and ran her gloved hand up Hagen’s side. His presence, so close and so warm, made her calmer. Alessandra was at peace now. Her journey had ended. The living would carry the pain of her passing.

Ander stood directly opposite them, holding his son’s hand.

He’d found what he wanted in Alessandra but kept it so briefly.

Now he was alone again, with one more scar to carry.

A cold breeze blew, and he tilted his umbrella to better protect Murphy.

Demetri was next to Murphy, holding his hand.

The toddler’s father was just a few feet away, letting his young son find solace in another kid, his older stepbrother.

At the head of the grave, the priest was reading the blessing, but Stella wasn’t listening.

She was back at her brother’s funeral, remembering his smile and worrying about her mother. Losing a husband was bad enough, but a son? No parent should ever have to carry that kind of grief.

And then Stella was at her father’s graveside, surrounded by men in uniform with stern faces and strong handshakes.

They’d had a touch of fear in their voices.

Stella had heard it when they’d talked to each other, an awareness that a bullet just like the one that had taken Sergeant Knox could be waiting for them somewhere out there.

She even remembered the sight of Joel Rameriz at the funeral, and a sour taste rose in her throat. Stella hated him for corrupting that memory.

But her father could rest in peace now, and she was free of his killer. So was Hagen free of his father’s killer. And they had each other. That light would never burn out.

The priest closed his Bible. Metal poles holding the straps turned and squeaked as the casket eased its way into the hole and out of sight. Rain continued to fall.

Ander lowered his chin and sobbed quietly.

Slade, beside him, laid a hand on his shoulder.

His face was ashen. Alessandra was the second employee the office had lost this year in what had to have been the worst of Slade’s career.

Everyone around the grave that morning on the day after Christmas—Stacy, Anja, Mac, Caleb, Slade, Hagen, and Stella—knew they could just as easily have been inside that casket.

They’d spent more time in the field, looked down the barrels of more guns, and disarmed more killers with knives than Alessandra Lagarde ever had. Even Mac, who spent her time in front of her screen, had faced her own dangers.

It should’ve been one of them. Not a mother and a wife with so much to live for.

The coffin landed with a wet crunch, and the priest hugged his Bible to his chest. He held out his arm, inviting the mourners to leave the grounds. Slowly, her hand in the crook of Hagen’s arm, Stella walked through the rain to the cars.

Slade walked alongside her. “I guess I should congratulate you on solving the case. You stopped them just in time.”

He was only mostly right. One of Laird’s followers had moved early, and another had gone through with his plans despite Journey’s appeal. A woman in Wichita had slashed her boyfriend to death, and a tour guide in Hawaii had sacrificed a tourist at the base of Kilauea.

Hagen peered past the umbrella. “Those idiots still killed so many people. And we didn’t save Alessandra.”

“They would’ve killed a lot more if not for you.” Slade’s voice was firm. “We could’ve had hundreds dead.” He squeezed Stella’s shoulder, but she was in no mood for congratulations.

As the Dispatch group had filled with messages, asking what was going on and trying to figure out what had just happened to the Administrator, Guy had used Hagen’s account to explain that he was an expert.

That the tablet was a fake. There was never a real prophecy, and the end of the world wasn’t coming.

It had all been a figment of one insane woman’s imagination.

Activity in the group had died away.

On the side of Oak Street, as they reached their cars, Ander gave Demetri a hug, and the sweet redheaded boy left with his father.

Ander then accepted hugs from Anja, Stacy, Mac, and Caleb before they climbed into their vehicles.

Holding Murphy’s hand, he made his way toward Stella, Hagen, and Slade.

Slade gave Ander a solid pat on the back. Hagen hugged him and kept hugging him as though he was afraid to let go. When Ander pulled an arm around Stella’s shoulder, she couldn’t help but cry into his neck.

“I’m so sorry, Ander. I’m so sorry.”

She rubbed his back and looked at Hagen over Ander’s shoulder. In time, Ander would build his life again, as they had after their losses. At least, she hoped he would.

Ander forced a joyless smile as he let go of her. “See you back at the house.” Then he made sure Murphy’s seat belt was secure before climbing into his car and pulling away.

Slade let his umbrella rest against his shoulder. “This will be the last one of these I go to, the last agent I lose under my command.”

Hagen gave a short nod. “Let’s hope so.”

“I say that after every tragedy. Maybe one day it’ll ring true.”

They walked to their vehicles together .

“I heard Tysen’s offered both of you places in the CIRG in D.C. Bigger jobs, bigger crimes, bigger investigations. That’s what she told me anyway.” Slade faced them squarely.

“Bigger cases than the one we’ve just cracked?” Hagen cocked his head.

“I don’t think they get much bigger than the cases we’ve had this year, Boss.” Stella looped an arm into Hagen’s.

“Tysen thinks they do.” Slade looked up at the sky. The rain was easing up, and he lowered his umbrella. “So what are you going to do?”

Hagen took a deep breath. “Not sure. Tysen told us to think about it over the next few days. We’re going to be at my sister’s ranch. Better late than never for the holidays.”

“You’ll be with your family too?” Stella smiled warmly at Slade.

“You two are changing the subject. But yes, I’ll be enjoying the company of loved ones. Grateful that I can.”

They both understood that.

“We’ll be in touch by the end of the week. You’ll be the first to know what we decide.”

“Sounds like that’s as good an answer as I’m going to get. See you both at Ander’s in a few.”

Hagen and Stella stood there, arm in arm, as Slade drove off.

They stood together, watching the rain ease and the sky begin to lighten, as if even the weather had decided to let them breathe. Not everything had ended cleanly. Alessandra was gone. Too many lives had been lost. There were questions that would never have answers.

But maybe that was the truth of life—it didn’t always offer closure or tie things up in a neat, shiny bow. Sometimes all you could do was hold close the people still standing beside you and choose to keep going.

Today, it was enough.