Page 87 of In the Shadows
He looked at Lila, who was watching the sunset with an expression he couldn't quite read. "Take care of him. He's not as tough as he pretends to be."
"Neither am I." She met his gaze. "Thank you, Caleb. For helping him help me."
"I didn't do much. He was already in before I could talk sense into him." Caleb stood, draining the last of his beer. "Holloway called an hour ago. Fielding's cooperating. He's giving them everything—the land schemes, the money laundering, the offshore accounts. And the details about Daniel Bennett."
"The property designations will be reversed. Federal audit will claw them back — the land returns to the county." Caleb set his bottle down. "But the reason they wanted it doesn't disappear because Caldwell's in custody. Coastal access. Maritime corridors. Someone above him had a specific reason for this stretch of shoreline." He looked at Ronan. "Blossom Springs won a battle. Whether it won the war depends on what comes next."
Lila went still.
"He confirmed it was Warren's order. Caldwell made the call." Caleb's voice was gentle. "The medical examiner's cooperating, too. He has records of the drugs they used. It's going to trial."
"So there will be justice." Lila's voice was steady, but Ronan could feel the tension in her body. "Real justice. Not just for the land fraud. For my father."
"Real justice." Caleb nodded. "It might take years. These things always do. But yes. They're going to pay for what they did to him."
She turned away, facing the water. Ronan saw her shoulders shake once, then go still.
"I should go." Caleb held out his hand, and Ronan took it. The handshake turned into something else—a brief embrace, the kind of wordless acknowledgment that passed between people who had trusted each other with their lives. "Stay safe."
"You, too."
Caleb walked across the deck and disappeared into the crowd. Ronan watched him go until he was out of sight, then turned to Lila.
She was still facing the sunset. The tears had come now—silent, streaming down her cheeks, catching the fading light.
"Hey." He moved behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. "You don't have to be strong right now."
"I'm not being strong." Her voice was thick. "I'm being stubborn. There's a difference, remember?"
He laughed. Couldn't help it. Pressed his face into her hair and felt something loosen in his chest—some knot he'd been carrying for so long he'd forgotten it was there.
The sun touched the water. The crowd around them cheered, lifting glasses, celebrating the end of a day that had changed everything.
"What now?" she asked.
"Now?" He turned her in his arms so she was facing him. "Now we go home."
"Your place or mine?"
"Does it matter?"
She considered that. Reached up and touched his face—his jaw, his cheek, the corner of his mouth.
"No," she said. "I don't think it does."
They left the bar as the last light faded from the sky, walking hand in hand down the beach toward whatever came next.
Behind them, the centennial celebration continued—music and laughter and the bright chaos of a town that had survived something it didn't yet understand.
Ahead of them, the night opened up, soft and dark and full of possibility.
And for the first time in twelve years, Ronan Cross wasn't running toward anything or away from anything.
He was just walking home.
Chapter Sixteen
The dock was worse than Ronan had thought.
