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He opens his mouth.

She raises her hand.

“And you don’t get to call me baby.”

The officer leads him toward the waiting police car.

Wren watches until the door closes.

Then she turns to me.

Her eyes are wet.

But she’s smiling.

“I did it.”

I brush a loose curl from her cheek.

“Yes, little flower.”

She laughs shakily.

“I actually did it.”

I look at the woman standing before me.

Small.

Soft.

Fierce enough to face the man who once controlled her life.

I have destroyed armies and challenged goddesses.

Yet I have never witnessed courage quite like hers.

“You were magnificent,” I tell her.

She slips her hand into mine.

“So were you.”

I glance toward the broken pavement.

The shattered glass.

The enormous obsidian spikes protruding from Saint Street.

“I may have caused some damage.”

She follows my gaze.

Then bursts out laughing.

“Oh, sweetheart. You are going to need a very good insurance policy.”

I frown.