Wyatt blinked. “I—thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet.” Drake’s voice softened, just slightly. “You’ve got a long road ahead. But for what it’s worth—Marcus Harrington was my cousin. What you helped expose tonight... it matters.”
She turned and walked away, leaving Wyatt and Sam alone.
Sam stood. “Come on. There’s someone who wants to talk to you.”
Shaw was waitingin the squad room, Shadow curled at her feet.
She looked as exhausted as Wyatt felt—dark circles under her eyes, her usual sharp edges softened by fatigue. But when she saw him, something like respect flickered across her face.
“Davis.” She gestured to a chair. “Sit.”
Wyatt sat. Lucy and Shadow regarded each other for a moment, then settled into an easy coexistence—two dogs who’d been through something together and come out the other side.
“I owe you an apology,” Shaw said. “I let you walk into that mill thinking I was the enemy. If I’d trusted your team sooner?—”
“You didn’t know you could trust us.” Wyatt shrugged. “I spent three weeks lying to everyone I work with. I’m not in a position to judge.”
Shaw almost smiled. “Fair point.”
They sat in silence for a moment. The coffee maker gurgled in the corner. Outside, the chaos continued—agents movingthrough the station, phones ringing, the machinery of justice grinding forward.
“How long?” Wyatt asked. “How long have you been hunting Keller?”
“Five years.” Shaw’s jaw tightened. “Since the day Marcus died. The Bureau investigated, came up empty. Keller was too careful, too connected. He had friends in all the right places.” Her voice hardened. “So I stopped playing by the rules. Took leave. Started building my own case.”
“The Motel 8 searches.”
“Every case Keller ever touched. Every operation, every informant, every suspicious death. I mapped all of it. I knew he’d slip up eventually—I just had to be there when it happened.”
“And Cooper?”
Shaw’s expression flickered with something like grief. “Cooper reached out to me six months ago. He’d started noticing things about Keller—inconsistencies, lies. We were building a case together.” She paused. “Then Keller found out. Cooper died before he could get the evidence out.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. Be glad we caught him.” Shaw leaned back in her chair. “The recording from your wire—it’s gold. Keller admitted everything. Marcus, Cooper, his whole fifteen-year run with the Binding Chain. He’s done.”
“But the organization isn’t.”
“No.” Shaw’s eyes met his. “Your father is still out there. The Binding Chain is still operating. This was one battle, not the war.”
Wyatt thought about the coin. About his father’s patience, his long memory. About the threat that would hang over him and everyone he loved until one of them was dead or in prison.
She extended her hand.
Wyatt shook it. Her grip was firm, steady.
“You’re a good cop, Davis,” Shaw said. “Don’t let what your father is make you forget what you are.”
“I’ll try.”
She nodded once, then headed for the door. At the threshold, she paused.
“Lucy and Shadow,” she said, glancing back. “I still don’t know how they know each other. Never did figure that out.”
Wyatt looked at the two dogs—Lucy’s calm watchfulness, Shadow’s quiet alertness. Two animals who’d recognized something in each other from the first moment they’d met.