Chapter 9 - Ashes and EmbersAn hour later, the mansion was quiet again. The federal threat had evaporated, neutralized by raw power and undeniable leverage.
Maeve sat in the library by the roaring fireplace, staring into the flickering orange flames. The tension that had coiled around her spine for three agonizing years finally began to loosen, leaving behind a strange, hollow exhaustion.
Footsteps approached, and Callum walked in carrying two crystal glasses of amber whiskey. He set one on the table beside her and sat down in the leather armchair opposite.
"He won't be back," Callum said quietly. "Those files you mentioned... do you still have them?"
Maeve looked up, meeting his dark, intense gaze. "They're backed up on a secure cloud server that only unlocks with my biometric key. When I ran from Chicago, that was my only insurance policy."
Callum took a slow sip of his whiskey. "You've been carrying the weight of an entire criminal empire on your shoulders, and you chose to spend your days polishing my banisters and making my tea."
"Because here, nobody looked for me," Maeve whispered, a lone tear finally slipping down her cheek. "And for the first time in my life, I felt safe. Even if you are... well, what you are."
Callum’s lips curved into a faint, self-deprecating smile. "A monster in a tailored suit?"
"A protector," Maeve corrected softly.
May you like
Callum set his glass down on the table, stood up, and walked over to her chair. He knelt down on one knee before her, ignoring the stark contrast between his underworld reputation and the gentle, careful way he reached out to take her uninjured hand.
"Maeve," Callum said, his voice dropping to a low, resonant rumble. "The house is yours. Boston is yours. And if you'll let me... I want to spend the rest of my life making sure nobody ever makes you run again."
