He was building something.
And so were we.
This station, this town, we weren’t what we used to be. We were raw. Wounded. But we were still here. Still trying.
I looked up at the photo on my shelf, Ava and I at the fundraiser. Her hand on my chest. My arm around her shoulders. We looked tired, even then. But we were smiling.
This past month had been hard; she had taken Remi's advice and was seeing a therapist whom she trusted. One who wouldn't question Ava's reason for her diagnosed PTSD, or how she reacted when she was around a gun.
She was working through her fears and memories with a strength I admired.
Ava had spoken to me a lot about how she felt like Remi never truly saw herself as others did, and I often wondered the same about the women who owned my heart.
She didn't see herself as I did or as Remi did.
Her heart, her fire, and her loyalty were just a few of the reasons why I knew without a doubt that I was going to marry her.
And maybe... if we were lucky... start something new.
Build something together.
Something better.
A legacy worth protecting.
CHAPTER 78
AVA - BETTER BE READY
There was something poetic about standing here again. Same steps in front of the police station. Same chipped cement. The same rising sun was filtering through the trees as if it were trying to burn away everything we’d survived.
Only this time, Remi wasn't walking out with chains on her wrists or rage in her eyes.
This time, we stood on our own terms.
We stood in unity... together.
Harlan adjusted the mic, his suit pressed and collar sharp, but his face was all emotion. Earnest, grounded. He’d spent the past month rebuilding this department from ash and ruin, and now he was about to face the same press that had once tried to dismantle him.
Beside him, I stood in navy slacks and a cream blouse that made me feel more like a politician than a therapist. Remi wore black, but her jacket had a subtle gold pin at the collar. A phoenix. She hadn’t said where it came from, but I had a feeling.
She looked strong. Steady. Like someone you’d follow into a storm.
“My name is Chief Harlan Gray,” Harlan began, his voice calm and clear, carrying over the hushed crowd. “And I’m standing here today not to erase what happened on these steps, in this town... this county, but to own it.”
There were no jeers. No interruptions. Just a sea of people, cameras, press badges, town locals, even a few familiar faces from the clinic, MCs and businesses. A mixed, imperfect tapestry of this county, all standing in the same space.
Harlan continued. “This department failed. We allowed corruption to fester. We allowed fear to silence good people. And for that, I takefull responsibility. But accountability is not where this ends. It’s where it begins.”
A cheer went up from the back. A man with a “Survivors Deserve Better” sign raised it high above his head.
“We’ve made arrests. Implemented oversight. And more importantly, we’ve rebuilt this department with officers who lead with integrity. Men and women who showed up when it mattered most. I stand beside them, and I stand beside these two women...”
He turned, gesturing toward me and Remi. “...who never stopped fighting for this town, for you. Even when we didn’t deserve them.”
My throat tightened.
He wasn’t saying this for show. He meant it.
