Page 83 of Burned in Stone
“She was perfect,” Cash interrupts. “And she still is. The only mistake she made was wasting nine years on you.”
Gabriel’s face goes purple. “You piece of shit. I’m going to?—”
That’s when I hear them. Sirens in the distance, getting closer.
Gabriel hears them too. The color drains from his face. “What did you do?”
“We didn’t do anything,” Stone says calmly. “But I believe you’re about to have some visitors.”
Three patrol cars pull up, lights flashing red and blue across Gabriel’s ruined face. But these aren’t his corrupt buddies. These are the good cops—Chief Morrison and his team, the ones who actually care about Stoneheart instead of Summit’s money.
Morrison gets out of the lead car, and he doesn’t look happy. He’s late fifties, built like a man who still does his own heavy lifting. His face is granite as he approaches.
“Gabriel Rogers,” Morrison says, pulling out handcuffs. “You’re under arrest for arson, conspiracy to commit arson, kidnapping, conspiracy to commit crimes in connection with organized crime, and about a dozen other charges I’m going to enjoy reading.”
“What? No.” Gabriel’s voice pitches high. “You can’t arrest me. I’m a cop!”
“You were a cop.” Morrison spins him around, none too gentle. “Now you’re just another criminal. A particularly stupid one,since you decided to show up drunk at your victims’ clubhouse while we were looking for you.”
“And they were making threats too,” Bones points out. “Got it all on camera.” He points to the three cameras covering the gate. “All three of them.”
“I’ll never accuse you of overkill again,” Stone mutters quietly to Hawk, who just smirks. As the club Sergeant at Arms and a man who runs his own security company, he has that look that says he always knew he was doing the right thing.
In the background, the cops finish rounding up Gabriel and his cronies, and I watch as they shove my ex-husband, his wrists cuffed, into a patrol car. For the first time since I met him, he looks scared. Good.
Through the window, I can see Gabriel still screaming, face red and contorted. But I can’t hear him anymore. Can’t hear his threats or his pleas or his rage.
When the three patrol cars pull away, it’s finally over.
Finally.
28
MERCY
I’ve been waiting for this moment since I escaped my marriage. Imagined it a thousand different ways. But standing here, watching him get smaller in the back of that patrol car, all I feel is... tired. And free. Not the kind of freedom that comes from running, but the kind that comes from standing still and watching the monster lose his teeth.
Gabriel spent years making me believe I was the problem. That I was too dramatic, too sensitive, too broken to deserve love. And for a long time after I left, I still believed him. Thought I’d forever be looking over my shoulder, always be the woman who needed to run.
But I’m not that woman anymore. I didn’t run this time. I stood my ground with Cash and the MC beside me, and we won. Not because Gabriel suddenly became powerless, but because I finally had people on my side who were willing to become my shield.
That’s the real victory. Not his arrest—though that’s satisfying as hell. The real victory is that I’m standing here, whole and loved and free, and he’s the one in cuffs.
As the sirens wail into the night, we all stand there, watching the taillights disappear down the mountain road until they’re nothing but red pinpricks, then gone.
It’s like I can feel the last thread between us snapping. He’s not my story anymore. He’s just a man who hurt me once and can’t anymore. The story now? The one I get to write going forward? That’s about what I built here. Who I became. The family I found. The man I chose. The life I’m creating.
I’m Mercy. Cash’s old lady. Part of the Stoneheart MC family. A woman who fought for her freedom and won.
That’s who I am now. And Gabriel has nothing to do with it anymore.
Cash turns to me, a weirdly dazed grin on his face. “We did it, angel. We fucking did it.”
For a second, I think we might both be about to burst into tears. Instead, he tugs me against him, ribs be damned.
I hug him back, my arms around his neck, his hand on my lower back, the two of us clinging so fiercely I nearly feel the panic leave both our bodies at once. The world spins bright and loud with the MC celebrating with hoots and hollers, but around us there’s just a pocket of air—perfect, still, something I want to live inside forever.
Cash buries his face in my shoulder, and I feel his laugh tremble down my spine. “First time I ever got something I actually wanted by fighting,” he mutters, and I realize he’s crying, silentand obliterating, the way men do when they don’t know if they’re allowed to fall apart.
