The red and blue lights pulsed in silence, painting the shattered gallery in frantic, repeating strokes of color. They flashed across Kian’s face, turning his grim expression into a mask of vengeance. They danced over the broken glass on the floor and the hateful, defeated face of Cole Anderson, who was still on his knees in handcuffs.
Sirens wailed, growing louder until they stopped abruptly outside. Heavy footsteps echoed in the grand hall, followed by the clipped, authoritative voices of police officers.
Audrey didn’t let go of Kian. She couldn’t. His arms were the only solid thing in a world that had just been ripped apart. Her sanctuary was a crime scene. The man she once loved was a monster.
A detective in a trench coat stepped into the gallery, his sharp eyes taking in the scene with a practiced, weary calm. He saw the devastation, the two security men standing over Cole, and Kian holding Audrey.
“What the hell happened here?” the detective asked, his voice gravelly.
Cole’s head snapped up. “She’s insane! She did this for the insurance money! I came here to stop her!”
The lie was so audacious, so Cole, that a hysterical laugh almost escaped Audrey’s lips.
Kian’s grip on her tightened. He didn’t even look at Cole. He addressed the detective, his voice a low, lethal hum. “That man is Cole Anderson. He broke into the museum. He destroyed this exhibit and assaulted Ms. Wells. My security team detained him. He is armed with that.” Kian nodded towards the pry bar on the floor.
The detective looked at the pry bar, then back at Cole’s expensive suit, now rumpled and dirty. He looked at Audrey, her face pale and tear-streaked, safely in Kian Sterling’s arms. The story wrote itself.
“He’s lying!” Cole screamed, struggling against the cuffs. “Ask her! She’ll tell you! I was trying to help her!”
The detective turned his gaze to Audrey. “Ma’am?”
Audrey took a shuddering breath, pulling strength from Kian’s presence. She stepped forward slightly, her voice shaking but clear. “He was destroying everything. When I found him, he… he trapped me. He threatened me.”
Her hand went to her stomach. The gesture was small, subconscious, but the detective’s eyes followed it. His expression hardened.
“Take him,” the detective said to a uniformed officer.
They hauled Cole to his feet. His facade of control was completely gone, replaced by a desperate, panicked rage.
“Audrey, don’t let them do this!” he pleaded, his voice cracking. “After everything I’ve done for you! I built you! You’d be nothing without me!”
She just stared at him, her heart a cold, dead stone in her chest. She felt nothing. No pity. No lingering affection. Just the profound relief of a parasite being removed.
As two officers dragged him toward the exit, a car screeched to a halt at the curb outside. The door flew open and a woman stumbled out, running toward the museum entrance.
Jenna.
She burst into the gallery, her face a mess of terror and smeared mascara. She saw her brother in handcuffs, and her world collapsed.
“Cole!” she cried, her voice a raw shriek. “Oh my god! I told you not to do it! I told you to come home!”
The detective froze. He turned his head slowly, his eyes narrowing on Jenna. Every cop in the room had heard it. A confession, gift-wrapped and delivered.
Jenna seemed to realize what she’d said. Her hands flew to her mouth, her eyes wide with horror.
Cole saw it, too. He saw the net closing not just around him, but around his last ally. In a final, spiteful act of self-preservation, he decided to drag her down with him. If he was going down, he wouldn’t go alone.
“Ask her!” he snarled, twisting in the officers’ grip to glare at his sister. “She knew all about it! She’s the one who helped me delete Audrey’s grant application! She helped me with everything!”
Jenna let out a choked sob. “No… Cole, no…”
The detective took a step toward her. “Ma’am? Is that true? Did you conspire with your brother to sabotage Ms. Wells’s work at this museum?”
Jenna just shook her head, tears streaming down her face, unable to form words. She was broken. A puppet whose strings had just been violently cut.
“Take her statement,” the detective said to another officer, his voice devoid of sympathy. “Separately.”
One officer led a shattered Jenna away while the others continued to drag Cole out. He kept his eyes locked on Audrey, his face a mask of pure, undiluted hatred.
“You’ll regret this,” he hissed, his voice low enough that only she and Kian could hear. “He will leave you. And you will have nothing.”
Then he was gone, shoved into the back of a police car.
The gallery fell silent, save for the quiet murmur of the forensics team beginning their work. The immediate danger had passed. The monster was caged.
Kian turned Audrey away from the door, away from the flashing lights, pulling her deeper into the ruins. He held her face in his hands, his thumbs gently wiping away her tears.
“It’s over,” he whispered. “That part is over.”
She leaned into his touch, her body trembling with the last of the adrenaline. She looked around at the wreckage of her dream, at the dead artifacts and the deep gouges in the walls. It felt like a lifetime ago that she had stood here, proud and whole.
“He destroyed it,” she murmured, her voice hollow.
“It’s just things, Audrey,” Kian said, his voice fierce with emotion. “We can replace things. He didn’t touch you. He didn’t harm you or the baby. That’s all that matters.”
She looked up at him, at the raw love and relief in his eyes. He was right. Cole had taken an exhibit. Kian had given her a life.
He pulled her into a tight embrace, burying his face in her hair. He held her for a long moment, simply breathing her in, reassuring himself that she was real and she was safe.
When he finally pulled back, the tenderness in his eyes was gone, replaced by something colder. Harder. A promise of a war yet to be won.
“One down,” he said, his voice like flint.
Audrey knew exactly what he meant. Cole was a symptom. Beatrice was the disease.
“Now,” Kian said, his gaze distant, already moving to the next battlefield. “Now for my mother.”