Page 103 of Unlocking Melodies

“Even when it involves bullets?” Ethan quipped.

“Says the man who got himself shot trying to play hero.” I squeezed both their hands. “But yes, apparently even then. Though maybe we could try something less dramatic next time? Like a normal family dinner?”

“With your cooking?” Gary actually managed a weak laugh. “Might be more dangerous than the bullets.”

“Oh great, now you're both ganging up on me.” But I was laughing too, even as tears slid down my face. “Just... stay alive, okay? Both of you. We've got a lot of lost time to make up for.”

As the paramedics loaded my personal collection of wounded heroes into ambulances, I caught sight of Jake and Dawn doing what they did best - bringing law and order to chaos, small-town style.

“You have the right to remain silent,” Jake announced, cuffing Moretti with perhaps a bit more force than strictly necessary. “Though given your flair for dramatic monologues, I doubt you'll take that option.”

Moretti's perfect suit was significantly less perfect now, streaked with dirt and what looked suspiciously like Martha's special brand of chicken-based revenge. His designer shoes would definitely never recover.

“This isn't over,” he snarled, trying for menacing but achieving something closer to 'disgruntled accountant'. “You have no idea what you're dealing with.”

“Actually,” Dawn said, looking far too pleased as she secured his goons, “I think it's you who didn't know what you were dealing with. Rule one of small towns - we protect our own.”

I had to admire their efficiency - each member of Moretti's wannabe mobster squad was systematically disarmed, cuffed, and treated to Dawn's impressively comprehensive knowledge of criminal codes. All while Clark watched from the shadows, his normally cheerful cafe-owner demeanor replaced by something ancient and decidedly otherworldly.

“Your father's files,” Moretti called out as they led him away. “They're worth more than you know.”

“Yeah?” I couldn't resist one last jab. “Well, they're about to be worth about twenty-five to life, so I'd say that's pretty valuable.”

Jake caught my eye as they loaded the last of Moretti's men into patrol cars. His nod said everything - they had this handled. I could go be where I needed to be.

That's when the adrenaline finally decided to clock out for the night. The world tilted sideways as my knees buckled, reminding me that getting knocked unconscious and playing hostage wasn't exactly great for overall health.

“Whoa there.” Dawn appeared at my side, catching me before I could face-plant in a very undignified manner. “We need another medic over here!”

“I'm fine,” I protested, though the words came out embarrassingly slurred. “Just need a minute. And maybe an ice pack. Or ten.”

A paramedic materialized - probably summoned by Mrs. Henderson's highly efficient emergency response network. Shetook one look at my probably-concussed self and shook her head.

“Yeah, you're coming with us,” she said, already guiding me toward a waiting ambulance. “Head trauma, possible internal injuries, and what looks like enough rope burns to qualify as modern art.”

“But my cat-“

“Is being pampered by half the town,” Dawn assured me. “Pretty sure Mrs. Henderson's already organized a rotating schedule of cat-sitters, complete with color-coded feeding charts.”

The paramedic helped me onto a gurney, which was way less dignified than action movies made it look. “At least I get to make a dramatic exit,” I mumbled as darkness started creeping in at the edges. “Very on-brand for tonight.”

The last thing I heard was Dawn's laugh. “Only you would worry about style points while passing out.”

Then everything went black, but this time I wasn't afraid. I knew exactly who I was, who loved me, and most importantly - who would be there when I woke up.

Even if one of them did have a bullet hole in his designer suit.

Chapter 27

A Harvest of New Beginnings

Amonth had passed since our little adventure in amateur hostage drama, but the memories felt razor-sharp. Not that anyone would let me forget - the town had basically turned it into their own personal Netflix series, complete with weekly reenactments at The Watering Hole's trivia night.

Watching Moretti’s perfectly manicured world crumble around his designer shoes. Mr. "I'm-So-Mysterious-With-My-Open-Collar-Villain-Aesthetic" hadn't counted on one crucial detail. Nobody messes with a Cole when they're protecting family. And somehow, against all odds and social class divisions, that's what I'd become.

Ethan's family unleashed corporate hell on Cortez's empire. Turns out those encrypted files on his laptop weren't just about using our small-town venues for money laundering - they were the key to his entire operation. I had to admire the irony: all that drama over files hidden behind the world's most pretentious password (seriously, who uses "MachiavellianPrince123"?).

The trial in New York was something else. Picture it: Ethan in full CEO mode, delivering testimony with the kind of precisionthat probably made his board members weep with pride. He didn't just present evidence - he performed corporate surgery, dissecting Moretti’s schemes with surgical strikes of irrefutable proof.

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