Page 121 of Bennett

Theo was still there.

His cousin stood just inside the door, bruised, breathing hard, watching everything with the wary silence of someone who wasn’t sure if he belonged.

Their gazes met.

Bennett didn’t move. Didn’t speak.

For once, he didn’t feel the surge of anger he expected. Just exhaustion. And questions. But those could wait.

He gave a single nod. A beat of recognition. Nothing more.

That conversation would come.

But not here. Not now.

He looked back down at the woman in his arms. She’d stopped shaking, but she hadn’t let go.

“Let’s get you home,” he murmured.

***

An hour later, they were upstairs, safe.

Or as safe as anyone could be after nearly watching everything burn.

Bennett’s insides twisted tighter as he stood near the dining room window, his eyes locked on the street below even though he wasn’t really seeing it. His hand rested on the sill, fingerstense against the wood. His body hadn’t come down yet, adrenaline still pumping through his system, hot and wired, like he was braced for another attack.

Laurel sat on the couch, knees tucked up, wrapped in the soft blanket Rylee had draped around her shoulders. She hadn’t said much since Gabe took their statements. She gave the facts in that crisp, even tone of hers, then went quiet.

Not withdrawn. Not shut down.

Just quiet.

The poor woman was no doubt trying to absorb the fact that a man had walked into her shop with a gun and gasoline because she dared to build something.

Bennett swallowed a curse. He understood that silence more than he wanted to, and God, he hated that Laurel was going through all this.

But at least things were moving in the right direction.

Gabe had left ten minutes earlier to start processing Hess. The charges were solid—attempted arson, assault with a deadly weapon, and a list of priors that would make bail nearly impossible. Gabe had sounded confident.

“He’s not walking out of this, not anytime soon.”

And thanks to Carter’s digital trail and the site logs Bennett had found, Duke Carver’s connection to it all was tightening. The shell companies used to pay Hess linked back to one of Duke’s holding firms. It wasn’t a direct confession, but it was damn close. Close enough for warrants. Close enough to put a very public fire under the man’s feet.

Gabe had stated bluntly before walking out the door, “He won’t wiggle out of this one.”

Mac stood near the apartment door, arms crossed and silent, watching Laurel like a man who knew what survival looked like and what it cost. Rylee was perched beside her on the couch, her voice low and even, her presence solid withoutcrowding. She didn’t offer false comfort or soft words. Just showed up, like she always did.

Then Laurel laughed.

It wasn’t loud. Wasn’t forced. Just a light, unexpected sound in the middle of all the wreckage, and it hit Bennett square in the chest.

Hope.

Not the blind kind. Not the kind he’d trained himself to ignore. But the real kind. Earned. Fragile. Undeniable.

She was going to be okay.

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