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Cooper's attorney, a nervous-looking man in an ill-fitting suit, tugs at his client's arm. "Brad, we should go review our statements. The hearing starts in ten minutes."

With a final venomous glare, Cooper allows himself to be led away, his father following after a calculating look at our assembled group.

"Don't let him get to you," I murmur to Riley, my hand returning to the small of her back. "That's exactly what he wants."

She nods, drawing strength from the supportive presence surrounding her. "I know. He's trying to throw me off balance before we get in there."

"And failing miserably," Sophie adds with a grin. "You've got this, Ri."

The courtroom doors open again, a bailiff announcing that Judge Winters is ready to begin proceedings. Rebecca gives us a reassuring nod, leading the way inside with confident steps.

As we follow, Riley's hand finds mine, squeezing tightly. I return the pressure, pouring every ounce of support, love, and certainty I possess into that simple connection.

"Together," I remind her quietly.

She looks up at me, green eyes clear and determined. "Together."

The word holds the weight of a promise, a commitment that goes far beyond this courtroom, this day, this fight. Whatever happens in the next hour, Riley and I face it as one.

And that, more than any legal decision, is what matters most.

The county courtroom feels vast and imposing, with its polished wood paneling and rows of spectator seating. Judge Carolyn Matthews presides from an elevated bench, her silver hair and stern expression lending an air of gravitas to the proceedings.

I sit directly behind Riley in the first row, close enough to reach out and touch her if needed. Sawyer and Finn flank me, a united front of McKenna support. The rest of the seats are filled with familiar faces from Grizzly Ridge, the small town solidarity a tangible presence in the room.

Cooper sits at the opposite table with his attorney, his father conspicuously absent. Perhaps Ronald Cooper thought it wiser to maintain distance from these proceedings, to preserve plausible deniability if things go south for his son.

The hearing proceeds with methodical efficiency.

Rebecca presents our evidence first: photographs of Riley's bruised wrist, the threatening messages Cooper left, statements from witnesses who saw him grab her at various points during their relationship.

The trail camera footage from my property showing Cooper and his cousin trespassing with rifles.

The accounts of his behavior at Maggie's diner.

Cooper's attorney attempts to paint Riley as unstable, as the aggressor in their relationship.

He presents text messages taken out of context, statements from Cooper's friends claiming Riley was possessive and jealous.

But his arguments feel hollow, disconnected, lacking the solid evidence backing our claims.

When Riley takes the stand, my heart pounds so hard I swear everyone in the courtroom must hear it.

She looks small behind the witness box, but her voice carries clearly as she recounts Cooper's escalating abuse.

She describes the controlling behavior that began with small criticisms and evolved into physical intimidation.

Then the night she finally fled, taking only what she could carry, terrified he would follow.

Cooper watches her with narrow eyes, his jaw tight with barely controlled rage.

I recognize that look. I've seen it on the faces of men who believe they own the world and everyone in it.

Men who cannot fathom being told no. Men who view women as possessions to be controlled rather than equals to be respected.

When Cooper takes the stand to present his version of events, the lies flow smoothly from practiced lips. He describes Riley as emotionally unstable, claims she attacked him without provocation, suggests her relationship with me began before she left him, and constituted infidelity.

"Ms. Hart has always had a fascination with older men," he says, his voice dripping with insinuation. "Particularly those connected to her father. I believe her relationship with Mr. McKenna began long before our breakup, possibly even before she was of legal age."

The accusation sends murmurs rippling through the courtroom. My hands clench into fists, rage boiling beneath my carefully maintained composure. Beside me, Sawyer places a warning hand on my arm, a silent reminder to stay calm.

Rebecca rises smoothly, her expression one of professional disdain. "Your Honor, this is a serious accusation. Does Mr. Cooper have any evidence to support such a claim?"

Cooper's attorney shifts uncomfortably. "We have witness statements suggesting Ms. Hart and Mr. McKenna were unusually close during her teenage years."

"Define 'unusually close,'" Judge Matthews interjects, her piercing gaze fixed on Cooper's attorney.

"Frequent visits to his property. Private hunting and fishing lessons. Time spent alone together in remote areas."

Rebecca smiles, the expression reminiscent of a predator scenting blood.

"Your Honor, Elias McKenna was Ms. Hart's father's best friend and served as her emergency contact throughout her high school years with her father's full knowledge and approval.

If Mr. Cooper wishes to suggest something inappropriate occurred during that time, he should present actual evidence rather than innuendo. "

The judge nods, clearly unimpressed by Cooper's tactics. "Agreed. Unless you have specific evidence of impropriety, counselor, I suggest you move on."

Cooper's attorney fumbles, clearly unprepared for such direct challenge. "We have no specific evidence of impropriety during that time, Your Honor."

"Then I'll disregard that line of argument," Judge Matthews says firmly. "Continue."

The remainder of Cooper's testimony focuses on portraying himself as the victim of Riley's supposed instability.

He claims the bruises on her wrist were the result of him restraining her during an "episode" where she attacked him.

Claims his presence on my property was an attempt to check on her welfare after "concerning" messages from mutual friends.

Each lie makes my blood boil hotter, but I maintain my composure, focusing on Riley's straight back, her calm demeanor, the strength she's displaying despite the venom being spewed about her.

When all testimony has been presented, Judge Matthews calls a brief recess to review the evidence before delivering her decision. The tension in the courtroom is palpable as we wait. Riley rejoins me in the spectator section, her hand finding mine in silent communion.

"You did great," I murmur, squeezing her fingers gently. "She saw right through him."

"I hope so," Riley replies, uncertainty clouding her voice. "He's always been good at making people believe his version of events."

"Not this time," I assure her with more confidence than I truly feel. "Not here, where his father's influence doesn't reach."

Twenty minutes later, Judge Matthews returns. The courtroom falls silent as she settles back at the bench, arranging papers before looking up with an expression that gives nothing away.

"Having reviewed all evidence and testimony presented today, I'm ready to render my decision." Her voice carries clear authority throughout the room. "In the matter of Hart versus Cooper, regarding the petition for a restraining order, I find in favor of the petitioner, Ms. Hart."

Relief crashes through me so intensely that I nearly jump out of my seat. Riley's hand tightens in mine, her body rigid with shock and mounting joy.

"Mr. Cooper," Judge Matthews continues, her stern gaze fixed on Brad, "you are hereby ordered to maintain a distance of no less than five hundred feet from Ms. Hart at all times.

You are prohibited from contacting her through any means, including third parties.

You are to surrender any firearms in your possession to the Grizzly Ridge Sheriff's Department within 48 hours. "

Cooper's face flushes with rage, his attorney placing a restraining hand on his arm as he begins to rise from his seat.

"Furthermore," the judge adds, "given the evidence presented regarding Mr. Cooper's trespassing on Mr. McKenna's property with firearms, I am referring this matter to the district attorney's office for potential criminal charges.

This restraining order will remain in effect for three years, at which time Ms. Hart may petition for renewal if necessary. "

The gavel comes down with finality, sealing the decision. Around us, Riley's supporters break into muted cheers and congratulations. Rebecca turns to shake Riley's hand, her professional composure breaking into a genuine smile.

But I focus solely on Riley, watching as the realization of victory washes over her.

Tears fill her eyes, not of fear or pain but of overwhelming relief.

Three years of protection. Three years without Cooper's legal harassment.

Three years to build a life without looking over her shoulder constantly.

"It's over," she whispers, turning to me with wonder in her expression. "We won."

"You won," I correct, cupping her face in my hands. "Your courage. Your strength. Your truth."

She leans into my touch, uncaring of the eyes watching us. "Our truth," she counters softly. "I couldn't have done this alone."

The simple acknowledgment of our partnership, of the strength we've found together, fills me with fierce pride. This woman, who's been through hell and emerged unbroken, who's faced down threats and fear with unwavering courage, has chosen to build her future with me.

As we exit the courtroom, surrounded by friends and supporters, Cooper's voice cuts through the celebratory atmosphere.

"This isn't over, Riley," he calls, ignoring his attorney's attempts to silence him. "A piece of paper doesn't change anything. You'll always be looking over your shoulder, wondering when I'll be there."

I move instantly, placing myself between Riley and Cooper, my body a physical barrier between them. But Riley steps around me, facing her tormentor with remarkable composure.

"No, Brad, it is over," she says, voice clear and carrying. "You have no power over me anymore. Not legally, not emotionally, not in any way that matters."

The simple declaration, delivered without drama or hysteria, seems to impact Cooper more than any angry retort could have. He stares at her, momentarily speechless, as if seeing for the first time that the woman he tried to break has not only survived but thrived.

"Let's go home," Riley says to me, turning her back on Cooper with the finality of a door closing on the past.

As we walk away, her hand firmly in mine, Sophie and the others forming a protective circle around us, I allow myself to fully acknowledge what I've known since the first night Riley appeared on my doorstep:

This is just the beginning. Our story is only starting to unfold. And whatever challenges lie ahead, we'll face them exactly as we faced this one.

Together.

The drive back to Grizzly Ridge passes in comfortable silence, Riley's hand resting on my thigh as we wind through the mountain roads. The weight of victory settles around us like a warm blanket.

"Thank you," she says softly as we pass the halfway point. "For everything. For standing with me. For believing in me."

"You don't need to thank me," I reply, covering her hand with mine. "That's what you do for someone you—" I catch myself, the words sticking in my throat.

Riley turns to face me fully. "Someone you what, Elias?"

The intensity in her voice makes me glance at her, seeing the hope and fear warring in her green eyes. We've danced around these words for weeks now, both of us knowing but neither willing to be the first to say them aloud.

I pull over at the scenic overlook where we can see all of Grizzly Ridge spread out below us, the place where Bill used to bring her as a child to show her their home from above.

"Riley," I begin, turning to face her fully. "What I feel for you... it's not just protection. It's not just duty to your father. It's not even just desire, though God knows that's part of it."

Her breath catches, but she doesn't speak, waiting for me to find my words.

"I love you," I say finally, the admission torn from somewhere deep in my chest. "I'm in love with you.

Have been since you came back to Grizzly Ridge, maybe longer.

I've tried to fight it, tried to convince myself it was wrong, but I can't anymore.

I love your strength, your stubbornness, your courage.

I love the way you see the world, the way you make me want to be better than I am. "

Tears stream down her face now, but she's smiling. "I love you too, Elias. So much it terrifies me sometimes. I've loved you since I was old enough to understand what love meant. You've been my constant, my safe harbor, my home."

I pull her into my arms, kissing her with all the emotion I've kept locked away for so long. When we break apart, I rest my forehead against hers.

"I want to marry you," I say, the words surprising even me with their intensity. "I want to make this official, permanent. Not immediately, I want you to have time to live your life, but I also want the world to know you're mine and I'm yours."

"Yes," she breathes without hesitation. "Yes, Elias. I'll marry you. I don’t need time. The only way I want to live my life is with you in it."

I kiss her again, sealing our promise with the mountains spread out around us and the future stretching ahead like an open road.