Two Mafia twins turned blue in the middle of dinner, and while three hundred pounds of armed security froze, the waitress was the only person who knew how to save them.

By midnight, the warehouse was quiet, save for the steady patter of rain drumming against the corrugated tin roof. The threat had been neutralized; the New York cell leaders were currently being loaded into unmarked transport vans bound for indefinite detention in an undisclosed federal-grade facility upstate, their network shattered beyond repair. Damien stood near the open loading bay doors, smoking a rare Cuban cigar as the cool night air cleared the smoke and ozone from the space. Ellie walked up behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist and pressing her face against his broad back, letting out a long, shaky breath that finally released the last remnants of her adrenaline. Damien turned around instantly, wrapping his heavy arms around her and pulling her tight against his chest, sheltering her from the damp wind. "Are you shaking?" he asked softly, his voice dropping into that deep, gentle register meant only for her. "I’m not shaking from fear, Damien," she murmured against his lapel, looking up into his dark eyes. "I’m shaking because I realize how fragile everything is... and how much I love you for keeping us safe." Damien’s expression softened completely, the hard lines of the underworld king dissolving into the man who loved her unconditionally, as he kissed the top of her head in the quiet dark.