In the distance, the wail of police sirens pierced the foggy night. Marcus had called them before we even entered the building.
Two hours later, the parking lot of Apex MMA was a sea of red and blue flashing lights. Paramedics were treating Rocco and Bane, while police officers shoved a handcuffed, furious Silas Thorne into the back of a cruiser. I sat on the bumper of an ambulance, an ice pack pressed against a bruise on my cheek.
I looked down at my hand. The silver USB drive was secured in an evidence bag, resting in my palm. The detective had already watched the footage. Silas was going away for a very long time, for extortion, illegal gambling, and attempted murder.
Marcus walked out of the gym, speaking quietly with a police officer before walking over to me. Because he had been blackmailed and had actively helped take Silas down, the district attorney was offering him a deal. He wouldn't face jail time, but he would never fight professionally again.
"How's the shoulder?" Marcus asked, nodding at my bruise.
"I've had worse," I said softly. I looked up at the giant man. "You gave up everything tonight, Marcus. Your career. Your livelihood."
"I got my daughter's safety back," Marcus said, looking out at the flashing lights. "And I paid a debt. I'm square." He looked down at me. "Go see your brother, Maya."
A week later, the hospital room was quiet, but the air felt entirely different. The afternoon sun streamed through the blinds, casting warm light across Leo’s bed on the seventh floor. The rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor was steady and strong.
I sat in the same plastic chair, my yellow track jacket draped over the back. I reached out and gently took Leo’s hand. His skin felt warmer today. The swelling in his brain had finally begun to recede, according to the doctors. Silas’s arrest had made national news, the underground betting ring completely dismantled.
"We did it, Leo," I whispered, resting my forehead against his knuckles. "It's over. You can wake up now. You're safe."
For a long time, there was nothing but the sound of the machines.
Then, slowly, deliberately, I felt a faint pressure against my palm.
I gasped, sitting up straight. I looked down at our joined hands. Leo’s fingers twitched, and then, very weakly, he squeezed my hand back.
I looked up at his face. His eyelids were fluttering, fighting against the heavy weight of the last six months.
I smiled, tears finally spilling hot and fast down my cheeks, washing away the darkness of the gym, the fear, and the violence. I pressed the call button for the nurse, never letting go of his hand.
My delivery was finally complete.
THE END