Chapter 180 It's Yours

Chapter 180 It's Yours
Cecilia

We spent the next hour running through drills—loading and unloading, dry firing to get used to the trigger pull, finally progressing to live ammunition with Arthur standing close behind me, his hands occasionally adjusting my stance or grip, his voice a steady stream of instruction and encouragement.

"Breathe," he reminded me as I lined up another shot. "Exhale slowly, squeeze the trigger on the empty lung. Don't anticipate the recoil."

I followed his guidance, feeling the gun buck in my hands as the round left the chamber, and watched with satisfaction as the target downrange showed a new hole just left of center mass.

"Better," Arthur said, genuine pride in his voice. "Again. Five more rounds, same target."

By the time we finished, my arms were aching and my ears were ringing despite the hearing protection, but I'd managed to group my shots.

Arthur pulled off his own hearing protection and moved to examine the target, his fingers tracing the pattern of holes with what looked like satisfaction.

"Not bad," he said, turning back to me with a small smile. "With practice, you'll be better than most of my security team."

"Really?" I couldn't help the pleased flush that warmed my cheeks at the praise.

"Really." He crossed back to me, his hands coming up to cup my face with a gentleness that contrasted sharply with the violence we'd just been practicing. "You're a natural, Ceci. Fast learner, steady hands, good instincts. I'm—"

He paused, seeming to struggle with the words. "I'm still terrified of you working homicide cases. But knowing you can defend yourself if you need to? That helps."

I reached up to cover his hands with mine, feeling the calluses on his palms that came from years of this kind of training. "I'll be careful," I promised, not for the first time. "I have the security team you arranged, I have the training, and I have this—" I gestured to the Glock still sitting on the counter. "I'll be as safe as I can possibly be."

"I know." His forehead dropped to rest against mine, his eyes closing as he took a shaky breath. "I know you will. Doesn't stop me from wanting to lock you in Black Peak and never let you leave."

"That would defeat the purpose of being a detective," I pointed out, trying to lighten the mood even as my own chest tightened with affection for this impossible, overprotective man I loved.

Arthur let out a sound that was half-laugh, half-groan. "Don't remind me."

We stood like that for a long moment, just breathing together in the quiet of the empty range, before Arthur finally pulled back with obvious reluctance.

"Come on," he said, already moving to clean and store the weapons with practiced efficiency. "We should get back. Alice is probably wondering where you disappeared to."

"Probably," I agreed, watching as he secured everything in the armory with the same meticulous care he brought to everything involving my safety. "Though knowing Alice, she's too busy panicking about flower arrangements to notice I'm gone."



The morning of Alice's wedding dawned bright and clear, the kind of perfect late spring day that made you believe in fairy tales and happy endings.

I stood in the bridal suite of the venue—an elegant estate on Long Island that Max had apparently rented out entirely for the occasion—watching Alice pace back and forth in her wedding dress, her hands fluttering nervously over the intricate lace and beading.

"I can't believe this is happening," she said for probably the twentieth time since I'd arrived two hours ago. "Ceci, what if I trip walking down the aisle? What if I forget my vows? What if—"

"Alice." I caught her hands, stilling her nervous movement. "Breathe. You look absolutely stunning, your vows are perfect, and even if you did trip, Max would probably just think it was adorable."

She let out a shaky laugh, her eyes bright with unshed tears that she was clearly trying not to let fall for fear of ruining her makeup. "You're right. I know you're right. I'm just—god, I'm so happy I'm terrified something's going to go wrong."

"Nothing's going to go wrong," I promised, squeezing her hands gently. "And even if something small does, it won't matter. Because at the end of today, you're going to be married to Max, and that's all that really counts."

Alice's smile turned genuine, radiant.

A knock at the door interrupted us, and Max poked his head in, his face lighting up when he saw Alice.

"Oh," he breathed. "You look like a princess."

"Then you're my prince." Alice said, but her own voice was thick with emotion.

I slipped out quietly, giving them their moment, and found myself in the hallway outside the bridal suite with nothing to do except wait for the ceremony to start.

My phone buzzed in my clutch, and I pulled it out to find a message from Arthur: You look beautiful. Can't wait to see you walk down that aisle.

I smiled, typing back: You can't even see me right now.

His response came immediately: Don't need to. You always look beautiful.

Heat flooded my cheeks, and I was just about to respond when I heard footsteps approaching from the main staircase.

I looked up to find Irene Winston standing at the top of the stairs, elegant in a dove-gray dress, her expression carefully neutral as she took in the sight of me.

"Miss Locke," Irene said, her voice perfectly polite, perfectly controlled. "You look lovely."

"Mrs. Winston," I replied, matching her formal tone even as my hands clenched slightly at my sides.

Silence stretched between us, heavy with everything unsaid, everything that had happened and would never be acknowledged aloud.

Then Irene reached into her clutch and pulled out a small velvet box, holding it out toward me with hands that were perfectly steady.

"This," she said quietly, "belonged to Arthur's grandmother—his father's mother. It's been passed down through generations of Winston brides. From now on, it's yours."