Page 94 of Carter

A shadow fell across the page. Carter leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching me with that steady, unreadable gaze.

“You’re writing,” he said softly.

I swiped at my eyes, embarrassed. “It’s stupid.”

“No,” he said, pushing off the frame. He came closer, resting a hand on the back of my chair, leaning down until his breath brushed my temple. “It’s strength. Stronger than a bullet, Harper. Stronger than Redwood ever was.”

I swallowed hard. “I don’t feel strong. I feel… fragile. Like if I stop holding myself together, I’ll just fall apart.”

He tipped my chin up, forcing me to meet his eyes. “Then fall apart. Here. With me. That’s what I’m here for. And when you’re ready, you stand back up. Not because you’re alone—because you’re not.”

My chest cracked wide open at that. The tears came harder, but this time I didn’t fight them. Carter pulled me into his arms, the notebook pressed between us, and I let myself believe his words.

Because maybe strength wasn’t about never breaking. Maybe it was about breaking and choosing to heal anyway.

147

Redwood

The cell was small, gray, and humming with the low buzz of fluorescent lights. The kind of place meant to break men down with monotony.

Redwood sat on the narrow cot, his posture immaculate, his suit exchanged for prison orange. His wrists bore faint marks from the cuffs, but his smile—his infuriating, patient smile—hadn’t left.

The door opened with a sharp metallic clang. A guard stepped aside, letting a man in a tailored suit walk past without question. No name tag. No introduction. Just authority that filled the room.

The man set a thin folder on the steel table between them. “You’ve made quite the mess.” His tone was calm, but edged with disdain.

Redwood’s lips curved. “Mess?” He tilted his head, eyes glittering. “No. I’ve created an opportunity. They think putting me in chains means the game is over. But you and I both know…” He leaned forward, lowering his voice. “Luthor is still moving the pieces.”

The man’s expression didn’t change, but his silence said enough.

Redwood chuckled, settling back on the cot. “Tell him I did my part. Tell him they’ll chase shadows while he builds something bigger. And tell him—” His eyes sharpened, cold and bright. “Tell him Harper McKinley has teeth. She’s not to be underestimated.”

For the first time, the man’s mouth twitched, the barest flicker of interest. He picked up the folder and left without a word.

The door clanged shut. Redwood leaned his head back against the wall, smile widening.

“They think they’ve won,” he murmured to the empty room. “But Luthor is already waiting.”

148

Epilogue – Harper

The mountain air was cool and sharp, carrying the scent of pine and woodsmoke. I stood on Carter’s porch, a blanket wrapped around my shoulders, watching the first blush of dawn spread across the horizon.

For once, the world felt still. No sirens. No gunfire. No shadows pressing in from the corners. Just quiet.

Carter stepped out behind me, his arms sliding around my waist, his chin brushing the top of my head. The steady warmth of him anchored me more than the blanket ever could.

“Couldn’t sleep?” he asked, his voice low, rough from sleep.

I shook my head. “Too much in here.” I tapped my temple gently. “But it’s different now. Not Redwood. Not fear. Just… everything we’ve been through.”

He pressed a kiss against my hair. “And everything still ahead of us.”

The weight of his words settled deep, but not heavy. For the first time, I let myself think about the future—not as a dream, but as something real, something mine.

I turned in his arms, meeting his gaze in the early light. His eyes were tired but steady, filled with the same fierce devotion that had carried us through fire and smoke. “We bring them home,” I whispered.

His lips curved, soft and certain. “All of them.”

The promise wrapped around us as sure as the sunrise. Whatever waited—Luthor, the network, the battles still to come—we’d face it together.

And for the first time, I believed that was enough.

The End