Liam
A week after New Year's, I still couldn't let it go.
Aria was home. She was safe. She was ours. That should have been enough.
But it wasn't.
Someone had sent those photos. Someone had terrorised the woman I loved, had tried to destroy what we were building. And that person was still out there, unpunished, potentially planning their next move.
I didn't operate that way. In the courtroom, I built cases brick by brick until the structure was unassailable. I anticipated every counterargument, closed every loophole, left no avenue for escape. This situation demanded the same approach.
If someone had committed a crime against my family, then they would face consequences. That was the only acceptable outcome.
I pulled into the parking lot of Gabriel's precinct just after seven in the evening. He'd agreed to meet me after his shift, and I'd brought everything I'd compiled over the past week. Files, notes, theories—all of it organised in the leather portfolio on my passenger seat.
Gabriel was waiting by his patrol car, still in uniform, looking as tired as I felt. We'd both been working this quietly, separately, not wanting to worry the others until we had something concrete.
"Tell me you've got something," he said by way of greeting.
"Nathan called an hour ago. He might have a lead." I gestured toward my car. "Want to grab coffee and go over everything?"
"Fuck coffee. Let's go to my place. I've got a whiteboard."
Of course, he did.
Twenty minutes later, we were in Gabriel's apartment—a surprisingly neat space that smelled like gun oil and coffee—standing in front of a whiteboard covered in his handwriting. He'd been working this harder than I'd realised.
"Walk me through it," I said.
Gabriel picked up a marker. "Okay. We know the photos were delivered physically—left at Aria's door, no postage, no delivery service. That means someone local, or someone who travelled here specifically to deliver them."
"Agreed. Which suggests personal motivation rather than random harassment."
"Right. The photos themselves—crime scene images from Eva's death. Those aren't public record. They were part of a closed investigation in Florida."
I nodded, following his logic. "So our suspect either had access to those files directly, or knew someone who did. Law enforcement, legal team, or someone close to the investigation."
"Exactly." Gabriel tapped the board. "I've been going through Ronan's past—or Adam's past, I guess. His FBI career. The cases he worked."
"And?"
"He put away a lot of bad people, Liam. Organised crime, drug trafficking, corruption. Any one of them could have a grudge."
I considered that, running through the legal implications. "But most of them would still be incarcerated. And even if they weren't, why target Aria? Why not go after Ronan directly?"
"Because hurting someone he loves is worse than hurting him," Gabriel said quietly. "It's what I'd do if I wanted to destroy someone."
The casual way he said it reminded me that Gabriel had seen the worst of humanity in his line of work. He understood how predators thought.
"So we're looking for someone with access to those files, a personal grudge against Ronan, and the psychological profile of someone who attacks indirectly." I pulled out my own notes. "I've been approaching it from a different angle. Who benefits from Aria leaving?"
Gabriel's eyebrows rose. "Cui bono. Classic lawyer thinking."
"It works. If Aria had left permanently, what would have changed? Ronan would have been devastated. We all would have been. But who gains?"
"Someone who wants to hurt Ronan specifically," Gabriel said slowly. "Or someone who wants access to something he has."
"Or someone who wants him isolated and vulnerable."
