Chapter 9 - The Final Reckoning
By 3:00 AM, the smoke had cleared, the federal agents had carted away Marcus Vance and his surviving men in zip-ties, and the Hale estate had returned to a heavy, exhausted silence.
Claire sat on the edge of the living room sofa, wrapped in a thick wool blanket, watching as Vincent walked back in through the shattered front doors. His shirt was stained with dust and a smear of soot, but he didn't have a single scratch on him.
He walked slowly toward her, stopping right in front of where she sat.
He dropped to one knee on the damaged marble floor, looking up at her with an expression Claire had never seen on his face before: absolute, unfiltered vulnerability.
"Are you hurt?" Vincent asked, his voice low and raspy.
Claire shook her head, tears welling in her eyes. "No. I'm okay. Are you?"
Vincent let out a long, shuddering breath, shaking his head. He reached out, his warm hand resting gently, reverently, against her lower stomach once again. This time, there was no anger in his touch. No denial. Only a deep, consuming awe.
"Dante checked the medical records again tonight," Vincent murmured, looking up into her eyes. "The doctors weren't incompetent... but human medicine doesn't account for miracles. Or stubborn wives who refuse to let go."
Claire let out a wet, watery laugh, leaning forward to rest her forehead against his broad shoulder. "So... you believe me?"
Vincent wrapped his strong arms securely around her, pulling her flush against his chest as if he would never let her go.
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"I believe," Vincent whispered against her hair, "that the Morettis tried to destroy me by sending me an angel. And instead, they handed me everything I ever fought for."
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