Page 44 of When You're Alone

Finn blocked, adrenaline surging. Their footsteps reverberated in the cramped space. Theodore feinted left, then slashed. Finn ducked, deflecting the blow. The knife grazed his sleeve, a near miss. He launched a counterattack, grabbing Theodore’s wrist. They grappled, twisting around. Dust cascaded from a small ledge as they knocked against the rough-hewn walls.

Theodore wrenched free, stabbing again. Both men fell to the ground. Finn seized Theodore's arm, smashed the knife’s tip against the ground. The blade bent, then cracked with a sharp snap. Theodore let out a guttural snarl, knocking Finn backward. Finn’s flashlight clattered aside, casting skewed shadows.

Finn slammed to the ground, dazed. His attacker now towered over him, the broken blade still clutched in his hand—its jagged edge glinting dully in the flicker of the fallen flashlight. “I usually go for a precise kill,” Theodore murmured, eyes gleaming with hate, “but with this broken knife, it’ll have to be slow.”

He raised it high. Finn tried to roll away, but there was nowhere to go. Theodore’s grin twisted in a cruel smile. He drove the blade downward—

A sudden movement flashed in Finn’s peripheral vision.Amelia.She barreled into Theodore, a fierce cry on her lips. The force of her tackle carried him off balance. His arms flailed, grasping at air, and he plunged into the same gaping hole that Mason Wilkins had nearly fallen into moments before. But this time, no one could save him.

A distant crash and echoing shout confirmed Theodore’s fall. Then there was a hollow silence.

Breathing hard, Amelia stumbled. Finn scrambled to his feet, heedless of the dust coating his clothes. He steadied her, heart racing as he took in her presence—the best thing he’d seen all night. They clutched each other in a brief, desperate embrace.

“You okay?” she managed, voice tight with concern.

Finn nodded, wiping sweat from his brow. His heart still hammered from the near-death struggle. “I’ll live,” he breathed.

They edged to the hole, shining a flashlight down. At the bottom, the faintest shape of Theodore lay still amid debris. The drop was significant—some old, disused shaft. Amelia grimaced. “We’ll need a team to retrieve him. I can’t believe he’s the killer…” She shook her head, struggling to reconcile the mild-mannered manager with a merciless murderer. “Why, Finn?”

He exhaled, an ache in his ribs reminding him how close it had been. “He blamed the Club for Terrance Mansfield’s death. Spent years infiltrating it to exact revenge on those who ruined the man he saw as a brother.”

Amelia pressed a hand to her mouth, absorbing the harsh truth. Finn reached out and gently clasped her shoulder. Despite the horrifying events, relief coursed through him. They had unmasked the killer—and survived.

Turning to her with a wan smile, he mustered a hint of his usual levity. “It’s a long story. I’ll fill you in… over a game of cards?”

He nodded toward the corridor, where muffled voices of approaching officers told him backup was finally here. The case—this bizarre and grisly affair—was coming to a close.

EPILOGUE

The aroma of freshly cooked pasta and garlic bread wafted through the cozy cottage in Great Amwell. A soft golden glow from a floor lamp lit the small dining table, where Finn, Amelia, and Rob sat in contented silence, savoring the remnants of a shared meal. On the far side of the room, a television murmured soundlessly, the evening news scrolling in subtitles across the bottom of the screen.

Rob leaned back in his chair, swirling the dregs of red wine in his glass. “So,” he said, eyes flicking between Finn and Amelia. “You figured out Theodore was behind it all because of his wrist?”

Finn offered a casual shrug and took a sip of his own wine. “I wasn’t one-hundred percent sure, but it lined up with the killer’s twisting motion. And given everything else, it made sense at the time.”

Amelia laughed, reaching over to nudge Finn’s arm lightly. “He may be modest, but trust me—his gut is usually right.”

Finn grinned, patting his stomach. "It's a six-pack, Winters. Ahighly trainedgut.”

Rob snorted and glanced at the muted TV, where footage of flashing cameras and frantic reporters played across the screen. “Well, someone leaked Theodore’s motive to the press. They’re having a field day. Every station is talking about how the club orchestrated Terrance Mansfield’s downfall.”

Finn took a contemplative sip of wine, trying not to look too pleased. Rob’s gaze flicked pointedly to him. “Finn… you don’t happen to know who leaked it, do you?”

Finn threw up a hand in mock protest. “Moi?All I know is the people responsible for ruining Terrance Mansfield deserve a little day in court—even if it’s just the court of public opinion.”

Rob massaged his temples, a half-annoyed, half-amused groan escaping him. “I don’t know what I’m going to do with you.”

Pushing his chair back, Finn stood to gather the dishes. “All right, I’ll clean up.”

But Amelia waved him away, scooting her chair back. “Nope. You cooked. I’ll handle the washing up.”

Finn opened his mouth to argue, then thought better of it. “I’m not going to fight you on that,” he said with a wry smile.

Amelia picked up the plates and made for the kitchen, passing in front of the television. Something on the screen distracted her, and her foot caught momentarily on the rug; a startled gasp escaped her as plates slipped from her grip. They shattered on the floor with a crash.

Finn was at her side in an instant. “Hey—are you okay?” he asked, voice laced with concern.

She didn’t respond, just stared transfixed at the television behind him. Rob stood, following her gaze. On the screen, a news anchor was wrapping up a segment—clearly the moment of the Monarch Club arrests. In the background, paparazzi flashes lit the scene of Finn, Amelia, and Rob emerging from the club.

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