The moment Avery gives that almost imperceptible nod, the world narrows to a series of tactical calculations.
Distance to target: 3.2 meters.
Knife position: Carotid artery, left side.
Sebastian’s focus: Split between me and Avery.
Probability of success: Acceptable.
I move.
Not toward Sebastian—that’s what he expects. Instead, I drop to one knee, creating two simultaneous distractions: changing my silhouette and drawing his eye downward. In the millisecond his focus shifts, Sterling fires from my right. The shot is precise—through Sebastian’s right shoulder, exactly as planned in the three-second eye contact we exchanged earlier.
Sebastian jerks backward, the knife falling away from Avery’s throat as his arm goes momentarily limp. I’m already crossing the distance between us, moving on instinct honed through years of combat. Before he can recover, I’m on him, driving him to the ground with controlled force.
The knife clatters across the wooden floor. Sebastian writhes beneath me, his face contorted with pain and fury, but I pin his arms with well-honed precision. Blood soaks through his cashmere sweater. The wound is painful, but non-lethal. Exactly as intended. I haven’t ruled out torturing the psychotic bastard yet.
‘It’s over,’ I tell him, my voice steady despite the rage still coursing through me.
‘It will never be over,’ he spits, eyes wild as Walsh and Mason secure his wrists with zip ties. ‘She knows what you are now. She knows I’m the better man.’
He’s even more delusional than he looks. I ignore him, turning to Avery. She’s standing, rubbing her wrists where the silken restraints had been, her face pale but composed. The relief that floods through me is so intense it’s almost painful.
‘Are you hurt?’ I reach for her hands, scanning her for any injuries.
‘I’m fine.’ Her voice is remarkably steady. She squeezes my hands and our eyes lock. Hers are full of questions.
‘Get him out of here,’ I order my men. ‘And call in his injury. I want him treated, then directly to holding.’
Sebastian laughs, a hollow sound as they haul him upright. ‘Treated? How civilised of you, Beckett. Does it make you feel better? Less like a killer?’
‘Move him,’ I say, without breaking eye contact with Avery.
As they drag Sebastian toward the door, he yells manically at Avery. ‘Ask him about the hostages, Avery. Ask him how many children died because of his mistake!’
The door closes behind them, leaving Avery and me alone in the suddenly quiet lighthouse. For a moment, neither of us speaks. I look around at the ‘home’ this mad cunt created for them. Thank fuck for the Cartier watch. A day earlier and I wouldn’t have found her half as fast. The adrenaline begins to ebb, leaving in its wake the awareness of how close I came to losing her.
‘Are you sure you’re okay?’ I pull her against my torso, cautious, uncertain if she wants my touch after what Sebastian revealed. She doesn’t pull away, nor does she flinch when I carefully examine the slight red mark on her neck where the knife had pressed.
‘Did he hurt you? Did he…’ I can barely bring myself to say the words. I squeeze my eyelids shut and open them again. ‘Did he touch you?’
‘I’m okay. He didn’t…’ She swallows hard. ‘Killian—’
‘When he took you, and I could do nothing but watch—fuck it was the worst moment of my entire existence. I should have seen it,’ the guilt rising like bile. ‘I ran rigorous background checks on everyone close to you, but he looked boringly clean, and he was your brother. I missed the signs.’
‘So did I,’ she says softly. ‘He’s my stepbrother. I’ve known him for years, and I never suspected. Never dreamed he felt that way about me.’ She shudders.
‘I’ll never forgive myself.’
‘You will. Because I refuse to be another woman you spend your life hating yourself over.’ She leads me to the sofa, sitting beside me, close enough that our shoulders touch. Outside, I can hear my team securing the perimeter, calling in medical support for Sebastian’s wound. Inside, the ticking of a clock on the mantel marks the seconds of silence between us.
‘Sarah,’ she finally says, not a question but an opening.
I owe her the truth.
All of it.
I stare at my hands, remembering the weight of the gun. ‘I killed her.’
‘Tell me,’ Avery says simply.
I’ve never told anyone the full story. Not my family, not even my brothers in arms who were there. But Avery deserves to know exactly what kind of man she’s with.
‘We were stationed in Mali. Peacekeeping mission. Sarah was military intelligence, or so I thought.’ The words come easier than I expected. ‘We were together for six months when I discovered she was working for arms traffickers. She used information I gave her—information I shouldn’t have shared—to set up an ambush.’
Avery takes my hand, her fingers intertwining with mine. The scent of her familiar peony perfume is like a balm to my shattered soul.
‘Thirty-two hostages,’ I continue. ‘Including four children. She made me watch as they began to execute them, one by one.’ The memory surfaces, sharp and clear despite the years. ‘When I managed to break free, I saved as many as I could—but I was too late for most of them.’
‘And Sarah?’
‘She tried to escape. I had orders to bring her in alive, if possible. She pulled a weapon.’ I can still see her face, the hatred in her eyes replacing what I thought had been love. ‘I didn’t hesitate. One shot.’
Avery is silent for a long moment. I wait as she processes.
Finally, she speaks. ‘You did what you had to do. You said it yourself; you never killed anyone who didn’t deserve it.’
Relief floods my bloodstream.
We’re going to get through this–all of it. No matter how fucked up it is.
‘Sebastian was right about one thing,’ I say, finally meeting her eyes. ‘Those deaths are on me. I trusted the wrong person. I let my guard down, and innocents paid the price.’
‘It wasn’t your fault. She used you. Played you. Abused your trust. Is that why you built those walls?’ she places her hand on my chest, directly over my heart. ‘Why you kept everyone at a distance?’
‘Partly. Deep down, after everything, I thought I didn’t deserve to be happy. Or to forget.’
‘Until me.’
‘Until you.’ I reach up to touch her face, half-expecting her to pull away. She doesn’t. ‘I swore I’d never make that mistake again. Never trust, never feel, never let anyone close enough to matter. Then you crashed into my life with your bubbly, extrovert ways, demanding my attention. I didn’t want to let you in, but I didn’t stand a chance.’
‘Your past doesn’t scare me. Not now I understand.’
‘It should,’ I murmur.
‘Maybe. But it doesn’t.’ She pulls back just enough to meet my eyes. ‘For what it’s worth, I would have made the same choice.’
For the first time since Mali, the weight I’ve carried feels lighter. Not gone—it will never be gone completely—but bearable. Shared.
A ghost of a smile touches her lips. ‘I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again; you are a good man, Killian. Let’s leave the horrors of the past where they belong so we can concentrate on a future.’
‘I want to but…’
‘But what?’
‘I’m terrified,’ I admit.
‘Of what?’
‘Of losing you. Of fucking this up.’
Her free hand comes up to cover mine against her cheek. ‘You won’t. I only met your parents briefly earlier, but I glimpsed why you’re so set on the whole marriage and big family thing. Life is short. Unless it’s spent in close proximity with Psycho Sebastian.’
I growl. I’m going to find out what his worst nightmare is and make him relive it over and over again, the way I had to relive mine—him taking the woman I loved while I could only sit there and watch.
‘Life is short.’ I agree.
‘I told you once before, the most reckless thing we can do is waste it.’
Despite everything—the fear, the rage, the guilt—hope flares in my chest. My lips curve into a smile. ‘Does that mean you’re going to wear my ring?’
‘One day.’ She leans forward, resting her forehead against mine. ‘As long as it’s embarrassingly big and beautiful. But not yet. I need a little time. I promise I won’t take too long.’
I pull her gently into my arms, careful of the bruises forming on her wrists, the slight redness on her neck. She comes willingly, fitting against me where she belongs.
‘You wanted a memorable Christmas.’ I shake my head in disbelief at the sheer madness of the day.
‘Next year, I want a memorably different one please.’ She snuggles in closer.
We sit in silence as the lighthouse fills with the subdued sounds of my team securing the scene. Tomorrow there will be a hundred loose ends to tie up. But for now, in this moment, there is only this. Avery safe in my arms. The walls I built crumbling to dust. And the unexpected discovery that I can’t control everything, but maybe I don’t have to.
Maybe that sick fuck was right about one thing. Plans change but destiny doesn’t.
I never believed in destiny before, but Avery’s too fucking perfect for me not to be mine.
‘Take me home,’ she whispers against my shoulder.
I press my lips to her hair. ‘With pleasure.’
