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CHAPTER 44

SLOANE

T he apartment was quiet, except for the clinking of my fork against the plate as I finished the last bite of one of Mrs. Bentley’s stuffed French toast. I’d been painting all morning while Logan was at practice and had almost forgotten to eat.

I moaned around my last bite like some kind of crazy person. The guys liked her burritos, but her French toast may have been better than anything I’d ever tasted.

Even if I wasn’t head over heels for Logan, it might be worth sticking around just for access to them.

Snorting at that thought, I reached for the remote, flicking on the television more for noise than anything else. I barely glanced at the screen as the bright logo of a news channel filled the space, the familiar anchor’s voice droning on about the usual chaos of the world.

And then I heard it.

“Breaking news this afternoon: Prominent business tycoon Everett Wells has been arrested on charges related to human trafficking and running an extensive prostitution ring.”

The fork dropped from my hand, clattering onto the plate as my head snapped toward the screen. My breath caught as they showed footage of him being escorted in handcuffs, his suit rumpled for the first time in memory.

My heart thundered as the anchor continued, her voice polished and detached, like she wasn’t dismantling the man who had controlled every aspect of my life for years.

“An anonymous tip provided authorities with detailed evidence of Wells’s operations, including high-profile clients connected to the ring. One name already making headlines is Congressman Jared Stroople, who has been linked to the case. More details are expected as this story develops.”

I sank to the floor, the cold hardwood pressing against my legs as my body shook. My mind raced through a frenzied storm of emotions—relief, disbelief, anger, grief, and something else I couldn’t quite name. It wasn’t just that Everett was gone. It was that the entire foundation of his power was being obliterated.

The weight of it all crushed me in waves, and for a long moment, I just sat there, trembling as the images on the screen blurred together.

* * *

An hour later, the sound of the front door opening jolted me out of my haze. I scrambled to my feet, my heart pounding all over again. Logan was barely through the doorway when I ran to him, throwing my arms around his neck with a force that startled even me.

“Thank you,” I breathed, my voice breaking as I clung to him. “Thank you.”

He pulled back just enough to meet my gaze, his lips curving into that cocky, infuriating grin that never failed to make my chest flutter. “Don’t thank me,” he said smoothly. “Thank Batman.”

I blinked, the absurdity of his words cutting through the heaviness in my chest. “Is that some name you’re going by instead of Rookie? I’m not calling you that in bed.”

The grin turned into a full-blown smirk as he winked. “I’d never ask you to.”

I let out a shaky laugh, burying my face against his chest as the tears started to come. He held me tightly, his arms a fortress around me as I let it all out—the fear, the relief, the gratitude. For the first time in what felt like forever, I wasn’t crying out of despair.

I was crying because I was truly free.

* * *

Two months later

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Logan asked for what must have been the millionth time as we sat in the truck outside the federal penitentiary that was housing Everett.

I shook my head. “I have to do this. I need to do this.”

He sighed like this was going against his better judgment, but he still got out of the truck and walked around to let me out.

“Remember he can’t touch you anymore. He’s nothing,” he told me as he led me inside. We went through security, and then I stopped him in the visiting room before he could go any farther with me.

“I want to do this myself,” I whispered, hating how he flinched at my words.

There was a long silence as he searched my face for something, and then he finally nodded. “You’ve got this, Red.”

The guard led me through the sterile hallways, the echo of my heels against the concrete feeling oddly satisfying. I wasn’t here to find closure—I’d already claimed that for myself. I was here to face Everett Wells and leave him with nothing, just like he’d left me so many times before.

When I stepped into the room, I saw him sitting at the metal table, his orange jumpsuit a sharp contrast to the cold steel of the chair he occupied. His once-perfect hair was streaked with gray at the roots, and the air of control he once used as a shield was gone. Now, he just looked like…a nothing. Just like Logan had said.

“Well, well, well,” he said, leaning back in his chair, his handcuffs clinking against the table. “Look who decided to visit. To what do I owe this honor, Sloane? Have you come to grovel? Or maybe thank me for the life I gave you?”

I didn’t sit. Instead, I stood just inside the door, my arms crossed, my back straight. “I came to see what powerlessness looks like,” I said evenly.

His smirk faltered for a moment, but he quickly recovered, narrowing his eyes at me. “You’ve grown bold since I’ve been in here.”

I took a step forward, my heels punctuating the silence. “You don’t scare me anymore, Everett.”

He chuckled, low and bitter. “Don’t I? You’re more naive than I thought if you believe that. Do you think because I’m in here, you’re done? That you’re free?” He shook his head, his expression full of disdain. “You’ve just stepped into another cage, Sloane. And you don’t even know it.”

“What are you talking about?” I scoffed, rolling my eyes at the flicker of smugness in his gaze.

He gestured toward my chest. “That necklace you’re wearing—the one you think York gave to you out of love…there’s a camera in it.”

I scoffed. “You’re full of shit.”

His mouth twitched. His employees were never allowed to curse. He leaned forward, his eyes narrowing. “He’s watching you. Every second. Every move.”

I fell back a step, his words catching me completely off guard. I reached up, my fingers brushing the cool metal of the necklace against my skin. It was such a delicate, beautiful thing. Could it really have been a tool for control?

Everett’s smirk grew, sensing my uneasiness. “See, Sloane? You’ve traded one master for another. The only difference is that this one is watching you in real time.”

I met his eyes, steadying myself as my mind reeled. I thought of Logan, of the way he looked and treated me like I was the center of his world. Of the insane, over-the-top things he did to keep me close.

“It works for us,” Olivia had said that night. “I don’t know that anything else could work for us.”

A smile curved my lips, slow and deliberate. My mind was made up. “Maybe that’s exactly what I need,” I said softly.

Everett blinked, the smirk slipping from his face. “What?”

“Maybe I need someone who’s a little crazy about me,” I said, my voice growing stronger with every word. “Because someone who loves me like that? Who’s willing to cross every line for me? That’s a fuck ton more than you ever gave me.”

His face twisted, the cracks in his carefully constructed mask showing. “You don’t know what you’re saying,” he hissed. “He’ll ruin you, Sloane. Just like I did.”

I stepped closer, leaning down until I was face-to-face with him. “The difference is, Everett, I get to choose this time. And I choose…Logan.”

“Said like a true nobody.”

My grin widened. “I’m pretty sure, Uncle , that you’re the one who’s a nobody now. And when people hear your name, they won’t think of wealth or power. They’ll think of handcuffs, orange jumpsuits, and a sad little man who got exactly what he deserved.”

Everett’s face turned red. “You think you’ve won? You think this is over?”

“For me, it is,” I said, straightening up and smoothing my blazer. “But for you? This is just the beginning. Enjoy your cage, Everett. It suits you.”

I turned on my heel and walked out, the sound of my heels echoing in the quiet hallway like a victory march. The necklace lay cool against my collarbone, and I realized…it felt like armor. A reminder that I wasn’t alone anymore—and that someone out there would do whatever it took to make me happy.

Even if his methods were a little…crazy.

After this, Everett Wells was going to be nothing more than a bad memory.

* * *

LOGAN

The news had a different story the next week. A report that Everett Wells had been strangled by an inmate and been killed.

Sloane hadn’t even cried at the news. Instead…she’d simply smiled.

I didn’t know how. But I knew he’d done it.

Batman had struck again.

An hour later my phone buzzed.

Lincoln: I’ve taken the liberty of getting my money back from his accounts. So no need to pay me back, Rookie.

I grinned…extremely relieved about that.

Me: You surprise me, Golden Boy. I thought you enjoyed my burger commercial. You’re going to miss out if I don’t need to do them anymore.

Lincoln: …

Shaking my head, I set my phone down and went to join Sloane…in the shower.