The moment I stepped out of the SUV, London's air hit my lungs like a rebirth.
Freedom tasted like cold mist, distant traffic, and the distant hum of life returning to my bones.
I didn't look back.
Ethan was already gone — and I didn't have time to second-guess his motives.
I had one goal:
Find James.
And end this war before the Windsors could strike again.
---
I made my way through the alley behind an unmarked café in East London — a known ghostpoint in James's underground network.
I knocked four times.
Then twice more.
The door cracked open.
A man in tactical black gear scanned me head to toe.
"Amelia Hale?"
"Wilson," I corrected.
He nodded. "Boss said you'd come."
Inside, I was led down into a basement reinforced with steel walls and humming with tech — like a war bunker wrapped in high-end London style.
And then I saw him.
James.
Bruised. Tired. Alive.
He turned the second he heard my footsteps.
And the second our eyes met, I ran.
Straight into his arms.
He caught me like he'd been waiting for me to fall into him all his life.
"God, Amelia…" he whispered into my hair. "You're alive."
"I thought they killed you," I choked. "They said—you were gone."
"I almost was."
He cupped my face, brushing the strands from my cheek. "They drugged me. Took the files. But they didn't find everything."
"Good," I breathed. "Because I've got the rest."
I pulled the envelope from my jacket — the documents Richard Hale had given us. Including the original termination contract.
James's jaw tightened as he scanned it.
"This is what we needed," he said. "This is how we end them."
But before he could say more, a voice crackled through his radio.
> "We've got movement. Perimeter breach. Multiple vehicles. Unmarked."
James cursed. "They followed you."
"No," I said. "They followed the drive. Ethan warned me. They would never let those documents vanish without chasing the trail."
He turned to the guard. "Initiate lockdown. Get the encryption server backed up and relocated. Amelia—come with me."
We rushed through the side tunnels of the bunker as the alarm buzzed overhead.
"You built all this?" I asked, breathless.
"After my father tried to silence a witness in the Kingsley case," he said. "I realized I'd need my own kingdom one day. So I built it brick by brick."
"And now it's under attack."
"Let them try."
He led me to a dark glass room — lined with monitors, blinking with red alerts. The Windsor estate, the Redwood files, the offshore accounts… it was all here.
Every crime. Every cover-up. Every stolen life.
I stared at it all in awe.
"You did this?"
He nodded. "With help. But the final piece was you."
We both turned to the screen showing a live feed of the Windsor Group's main HQ.
James zoomed in on one of the windows. There, standing with a drink in hand, was Johnathan Windsor.
Unbothered. Arrogant.
But not for long.
"I want him to watch it fall," James said, voice low. "I want him to know it was you who burned him."
"Then let's make sure he sees it coming."
I handed James the final piece — the recorded audio from Richard Hale's safe. It was a phone call.
Between Richard and Johnathan.
> "You promised she'd live."
> "No, Richard. I promised you would."
James's face darkened.
"That's enough to sink him," he whispered.
"But it's not just about him anymore," I said. "It's about Ethan. The others. All the innocents caught in the fire."
James turned to me slowly.
"You want justice…"
"Yes."
"Then we start tomorrow."
I looked up at him.
So close. So furious. So mine.
And in that quiet second before the storm, he leaned down and kissed me.
Not soft. Not slow.
But fierce.
Like he'd been holding back for years.
And finally…
He didn't have to anymore.