The warehouse was long behind them. So was the bloodstained stairwell. The timer ticking down had led to nothing but a decoy—a hollow storage unit filled with scattered pages of Nathan's journal, some of which Ava had never seen before. It was Damien's way of buying time—or breaking them further.
Now, the precinct lights were dim. Most of the team had gone home. The war room was quiet. Maps still littered the walls, pins connecting crimes like spiderwebs. But the chaos had stilled.
Ava sat alone at the long table, fingers curled around a mug of coffee that had long gone cold. Her hair was loose now, her usual tension melted into something else. Not peace—but exhaustion. A heavy stillness that weighed more than panic.
Footsteps approached.
She didn't need to look up to know it was Marcus.
"I figured you hadn't gone home," he said softly.
"I couldn't sleep even if I tried," she replied. "It's like my mind's been rewired. Every silence feels like a warning."
He sat beside her. Not across. Close.
"I feel it too," he said.
A long pause stretched between them. Not uncomfortable. Just… full.
Ava turned to him. "Do you ever wonder what happens after all this?"
Marcus tilted his head. "You mean after we catch Damien?"
She nodded. "After the case is over. After the adrenaline's gone. After… whatever this is."
Her voice trembled on the last part.
He didn't rush to answer. He looked at her for a long time, then reached across the table. His fingers brushed hers—lightly at first, like asking permission. When she didn't pull away, he laced them together.
"I think," he said slowly, "that whatever this is… doesn't just disappear when the danger does."
She searched his face. "You're sure?"
"No," he admitted. "But I know what I feel when I look at you. And it's not just fear. It's not just the case."
Ava exhaled, a shaky breath. "I keep thinking about the kiss."
He smiled—faint, but real. "So do I."
There was a gentleness to him tonight. No edge. No steel. Just Marcus—the man beneath the detective. The man who carried her through every breakdown, every bloody crime scene, every clue Damien twisted.
"You scare me sometimes," she whispered.
His brows lifted slightly. "Why?"
"Because you see me. Even when I'm falling apart. You stay."
"I always will."
"You shouldn't."
"But I do," he said simply. "I'm not going anywhere, Ava."
She blinked, tears catching in the corners of her eyes. "Why?"
His voice dropped. "Because I love you."
Silence.
Her breath caught. It was the first time either of them had said it out loud. Not hinted. Not implied.
Spoken.
Real.
She looked away, blinking fast, like it would stop the storm behind her eyes. "You don't have to say that."
"I didn't say it because I had to."
Ava turned back. His hand was still in hers. Solid. Warm.
"I'm not expecting you to say it back," Marcus added. "I just needed you to know. In case this all ends tomorrow."
She stared at him, emotions tangled in her throat.
It would be easier to deflect. To bury it beneath another lead or another plan. But tonight wasn't for running.
It was for truths.
"I do," she whispered.
Marcus leaned in slightly, uncertain. "You do…?"
"Love you."
He froze.
Then, slowly, he reached up, brushing a tear from her cheek with his thumb. "Say it again."
"I love you."
This time, she didn't whisper.
He closed the distance between them—not like before. Not a tentative brush. This was deeper. Slower. A kiss that spoke of sleepless nights and stolen glances. Of safety and danger all wrapped into one.
When they finally pulled apart, Ava leaned her forehead against his. "How did we end up here?"
Marcus gave a soft chuckle. "You mean from hating me to this?"
"I never hated you."
"No?"
She smiled faintly. "I was scared of what you'd mean to me."
"And now?"
"I'm terrified."
He kissed her again. "Me too."
They stayed like that—wrapped in the quiet, the soft hum of the precinct around them. No sirens. No clues. Just them.
For the first time in what felt like years, Ava allowed herself to rest. Not just physically, but emotionally. She curled against Marcus's side on the couch in the back room, his arm around her, fingers tracing light patterns across her spine.
"What if Damien sees this as weakness?" she murmured.
"Then he doesn't understand strength."
Ava smiled against his chest.
"You know," Marcus said, a teasing lilt in his voice, "we've broken about six protocols."
"Seven," she corrected. "We're technically on duty."
"Worth it."
She chuckled. "Definitely."
He shifted slightly, pulling the blanket up around them. "Get some sleep, Ava."
"You'll be here when I wake up?"
"I always am."
She laid there for a while, listening to the steady beat of his heart. It grounded her. Slowed her thoughts.
"You remember the first day we met?" she asked suddenly.
Marcus gave a soft laugh. "How could I forget? You refused to let me in the briefing room because I was two minutes late."
"I thought you were cocky."
"I was," he said with a grin.
"I hated you."
"You already said you didn't."
"I lied."
They both laughed quietly. It was the first genuine, unguarded sound they'd shared in what felt like forever.
"But I admired you," Ava continued. "Even then. The way you saw through suspects. The way you read the room."
"You trusted me before you wanted to admit it," Marcus said. "I saw it in your eyes."
She tilted her head back to look at him. "I hated how easily you read me."
"I love that about you."
She smiled. "I'm still scared."
"I'll be scared with you."
He kissed her temple.
"I keep thinking about Nathan," she whispered. "How he must feel. Alone. Terrified."
"We'll find him."
"I hope it's soon. I don't know how many more games I can play."
"Then we stop playing. We force Damien's hand."
She nodded against him. "But not tonight."
"No," Marcus agreed. "Tonight is just for us."
They lay together in silence, and for the first time, Ava allowed herself to fall asleep in someone else's arms. The war could wait. Just for a few more hours.
Tomorrow, they'd fight again.
But tonight, they just held on to the one thing they could still control:
Each other.
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