Liam appeared in the doorway, his jacket torn and his face bruised, but he was walking on his own.

He looked at me, and the tension in his shoulders finally broke.

He walked over, kneeling down to wrap his arms around both Chloe and me.

“Are you hurt?” he asked, his eyes searching my face.

“I am fine,” I said, leaning my forehead against his shoulder. “Just tired.”

We walked out of the derelict charity hall together, the cool coastal air hitting our faces like a shock of cold water.

Blue and red lights flashed against the charred timbers of the building, casting long, dancing shadows across the gravel lot.

An ambulance was waiting, its back doors open.

They loaded Officer Davis in first, his head wrapped in bandages, though he was sitting up and talking.

Chloe was placed on a stretcher next, a gray blanket wrapped around her shivering shoulders.

Detective Holt walked over to Liam and me, a notepad in her hand.

“We have Darrow in the transport vehicle,” she said, tucking a pen into her pocket. “He is already talking. Trying to secure a deal before we even reach the station.”