Page 70 of Shelter for Shay
“You’re bleeding,” she whispered, her voice barely more than a breath. Her gaze was locked on the blood soaking through his shirt, but her hands didn’t move. She was frozen.
“We’re both alive,” Moose said gently. “That’s all that matters.”
She blinked slowly, like she didn’t quite believe it. Then, suddenly, her hands were fisting in his shirt, clutching hard as she collapsed into him with a sob that came from somewhere deep—somewhere cracked and raw and full of terror.
“You came,” she gasped against his chest. “I didn’t think— I didn’t know if?—”
“I told you I would,” he said, burying his face in her hair. “You’re never alone, Shay. Not ever again.”
She broke then. Shaking. Sobbing. Her hands tangling in his shirt, her knees tucked against his side as if she were trying to fold herself into him and disappear. Her whole body trembled with the aftershock of fear, her breath hitching in broken waves.
He held her through it, one arm tight around her, the other throbbing with pain. He didn’t care. Let it bleed.
Behind them, Blake groaned on the floor, his face split and bruised, fury still flashing in his eyes.
Jupiter stepped over him, holding up a tablet with grim satisfaction.
“Got it all,” he said. “Audio, video, confession. Every word. He’s not walking out of this.”
Moose didn’t look at him. Didn’t look at anyone.
All he saw was Shay—shaking in his arms, trying to breathe, trying to believe this was over.
He kissed her temple and whispered, “We’ve got you now.”
But the fight wasn’t finished.
Not until Blake Edmonds paid—for every scar, every threat, and every tear.
Moose – Saturday Evening | Lake George Community Hospital
The antiseptic tang of the hospital room clung to the back of Moose’s throat. Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, too bright for how exhausted he felt. A nurse finished wrapping the gauze around his upper arm, tightening it just enough to make him wince.
“You’re lucky this didn’t cause too much damage,” the nurse said.
Moose grunted. “Lucky’s not the word I’d use.”
The nurse gave him a look that said she’d seen worse and left him with a fresh set of discharge papers.
He flexed his fingers. The bullet had torn through clean, but it’d be a few weeks before he’d be able to do anything meaningful with his left arm. Which meant no shooting, no lifting, and no pretending everything was fine.
The door creaked open, and Andy Harmon stepped in, followed closely by Jacob Donovan.
Both men looked like they’d aged a decade in the last twenty-four hours.
Moose gave them a tired nod. “Tell me you’ve got good news.”
Andy leaned against the wall, arms crossed. “We’ve got Blake Edmonds on multiple charges—kidnapping, unlawful imprisonment, obstruction of justice, jury tampering, attempted murder.”
Jacob lifted a folder and flipped it open. “Between Shay’s testimony, your team’s footage, and the voice recordings Jupiter captured during the standoff, we’ve got more than enough to bury him.”
Moose let out a long breath. “And the LLC stuff? The other criminal activity?”
Jacob smirked. “Your friend Ry from The Refuge delivered. I don’t know who she is exactly, and I don’t think I want to, but the chain of financial laundering traced through Margaret’s accounts, Blake’s shell companies, and the W.E.H. Holdings network is ironclad. He used Margaret. Exploited her. Manipulated a young woman trying to raise her daughter into being the front for his criminal enterprise—and that’s just the tip of the iceberg.”
“And then he threatened her when she wanted out. Looks like the murder of Adam Lawrence was about keeping the secret from surfacing,” Andy said.
Moose rubbed his good hand down his face. “And Shay…?”
