Page 130 of Fatal Pattern

But he saw the flicker of pain in Tori’s eyes.

“Yes . . . I . . . do.”

He closed his eyes. Felt himself drifting.

“Turn the lights off. It might help.” Luna.

He pulled his eyes open. Darker. Better.

“Barclay . . . said . . . Nikos saw . . . face . . . A witness.” He took a shallow breath. “The people . . . worked for . . . don’t leave . . . witnesses. Not . . . even . . . children.”

He looked directly at Tori, trying to make her see the impossible geometry of the choice he’d faced.

“He gave . . . me . . . a choice.”

Another tear rolled down his cheek.

“He said . . . he can make the boy . . . disappear . . . into the system . . . brand him a . . . psy . . . psychotic . . . or . . . have him . . . eliminated. Made me . . . choose . . .”

The ugly words hung in the air. Tori held his hand as tears fell down her face.

“He looked at me . . . said . . . Your choice, King. One child gets life . . . One child goes away . . . or he would put both . . . both in the ground.”

The silence stretched. He watched Tori’s face, bracing for the impact. The anger. The hatred. The final, deserved accusation of betrayal.

But it didn’t come.

He watched her process not his betrayal but the impossible choice. The burden he’d chosen to carry so she wouldn’t have to. The hurt in her expression melted away, replaced by a dawning, devastating understanding.

Her hand covered her mouth. Shoulders rounded, as if something heavy finally settled into place. “Oh, Stryker.” The words broke out, carried by breath more than sound. “You saved us. You saved us both.”

It wasn’t an accusation.

It was an absolution.

The forgiveness was so complete, so immediate, it stole the air from his lungs. The twenty-six-year-old weight on his soul finally, blessedly, lifted.

“I couldn’t stop him,” he whispered. “But I could . . . I could make sure you both lived.”

“You did.” Tori’s tears fell freely now. “You did everything you could.”

He saw Blade place an arm around Tori and hold her.

Harlee wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. Jett stood straighter, like a burden had lifted from his shoulders too.

His gaze drifted to Corbin and Luna, arms linked.

Luna was here.

When had she come home?

“How long?” he asked, his voice gaining strength. “How long in the hospital?”

“Eleven months, two weeks, four days,” Blade said. “But who’s counting?”

Stryker tried to smile. “What did I miss?”

“Everything,” Tori said.