Ethan
The aftermath of the chaos at the Connolly estate was a whirlwind of police reports, legal proceedings, and a very tense conversation with DA Thompson. He was furious that I had put myself in danger, but he was also grudgingly impressed. We had the witness's daughter. We had leverage. The case was back on.
But all I could focus on was Ethan. He had a split lip and a bruised jaw, but he had refused to go to the hospital, insisting he was fine. He wasn't fine. He was quiet, his usual warmth replaced by a cold, simmering anger. He was angry at Michael Connolly, but he was also angry at me. And he had every right to be.
We drove back to the farmhouse in a heavy, suffocating silence. The adrenaline had worn off, leaving behind a bone-deep exhaustion and the bitter taste of fear. I had almost gotten him killed. The thought was a physical weight in my chest.
When we got home, he walked straight to the liquor cabinet and poured himself a large glass of whiskey, downing it in one go. I had never seen him drink like that before.
"Ethan, I'm so sorry," I began, my voice trembling. "I never wanted you to be involved. I was trying to protect you."
"Protect me?" he said, his voice a low, dangerous growl. He slammed the glass down on the counter, the sound making me flinch. "By lying to me? By running off to confront a violent mobster by yourself? That's not protection, Olivia. That's reckless."
"I had it under control," I argued weakly.
"No, you didn't!" he exploded, his voice raw with a fear that mirrored my own. "I was listening to the whole thing on the phone with Jake. I heard that monster threatening you. I heard the fear in your voice, even though you were trying to hide it. What was I supposed to do? Sit here and wait for the police to find your body?"
His words were a punch to the gut. He was right. I had been reckless. I had been so focused on my case, on my witness, that I had forgotten the promise I had made to him. I had forgotten that my life was no longer just my own.
"I'm a prosecutor, Ethan," I said, my voice pleading. "This is my job."
"And I'm your husband!" he shot back. "And my job is to love you and support you, not to listen to you almost get killed on a police scanner! We're supposed to be a team. Partners. But you shut me out. You lied to me. You went into this alone."
"I didn't want you to get hurt," I whispered, tears streaming down my face.
"And look what happened," he said, his voice breaking. He gestured to his bruised face. "I got hurt anyway. Because I love you. And I will always come for you. Even if you don't want me to."
He sank onto a kitchen chair, burying his face in his hands. The anger was gone, replaced by a deep, weary sadness. "I can't lose you, Olivia," he said, his voice muffled. "I can't."
I went to him, kneeling on the floor in front of him. I took his hands in mine, pulling them away from his face. His eyes were red-rimmed, his face a mask of pain and fear. My heart broke for him, for what I had put him through.
"You won't," I said, my voice thick with tears. "I'm so sorry, Ethan. You're right. I was wrong. I was so wrong. We're a team. And I should have trusted you. I should have let you in."
He looked at me, his gaze searching mine. "No more secrets," he said, his voice a raw plea. "Promise me. No matter how dangerous, no matter how scary. We face it together."
"I promise," I said, the words a solemn vow. "Together."
He pulled me into his arms, holding me so tightly I could barely breathe. I buried my face in his chest, inhaling the familiar, comforting scent of him. We stayed like that for a long time, two broken, terrified people clinging to each other in the aftermath of a storm.
We had faced down the monster at the gates. But in doing so, we had almost let the secrets and the fear destroy the very thing we were fighting for: each other. We had made a new promise, a new vow. No more secrets. From now on, we would face the darkness together, as a team. And as I held onto my husband, I knew that our love, our partnership, was the most powerful weapon we had.