Chapter 201: The Aftermath

The sound of sirens grew louder, their piercing wails cutting through the thick air of the burning compound. The acrid scent of smoke and blood clung to everything, but for Nat, it was the silence inside her that was the most deafening.

Elias Carter was dead.

Her father was dead—by her own hand.

Roman exhaled sharply, glancing toward the windows where the flashing red and blue lights reflected in the dark. His jaw clenched, his mind already calculating his next move. He had known this was coming, had prepared for it, but the weight of the moment still pressed against his ribs like a vice.

“We have to go,” he said, turning to Ginger. "They'll be here any second."

Ginger nodded grimly, understanding without question. He turned to Nat, his fingers ghosting over her arm. "Nat—"

She didn’t move.

She stood frozen, her gun still in her trembling hand, her eyes locked on her father’s lifeless body. Her breath came in short, uneven gasps, her chest tight as the reality of what she had done settled deep in her bones.

Roman’s gaze softened for only a fraction of a second. "You’ll be okay?"

Ginger tightened his grip on Nat, pulling her closer to his side. "I’ll take care of her."

Roman hesitated just a moment longer, as if memorizing her, as if this was the last time. Then, with one last lingering look, he turned and disappeared into the shadows.

Nat barely registered the sound of the back door creaking open, barely noticed the way Roman vanished into the night. All she could focus on was the crushing weight in her chest, the way her legs felt weak, the way her entire world had tilted on its axis.

She had done it.

She had killed him.

Her breathing hitched, her vision blurring. Her hands, her arms—she couldn’t stop shaking.

She expected to feel relief. Expected the weight of his presence in her life to lift away like smoke in the air. Instead, there was only a void—a dark, gaping chasm where something had once been, even if it had been rotten and cruel.

Ginger moved quickly, stepping in front of her, cupping her face in his hands. "Breathe, baby. Just breathe."

Her lips parted, but no sound came out. A sob swelled in her throat, and suddenly, she wasn’t standing anymore—she was sinking. Ginger caught her before she could hit the ground, wrapping his arms around her, pulling her against him as she crumbled.

“I killed him,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. "I killed my own father."

Ginger held her tighter, his grip unyielding. "You did what you had to do, Nat. He was never your father—not in the way that mattered."

She shuddered, her fingers gripping the front of his shirt, her body wracked with silent sobs. "Then why does it feel like I just ripped out a part of myself?"

Ginger pressed his lips to the top of her head, his voice thick with emotion. "Because no matter what he was, he was still a part of you. And letting go of something like that—it doesn’t happen all at once."

Her sobs came harder now, her body trembling as everything she had bottled up for so long finally broke free. The years of neglect, the pain, the lies, the weight of being his daughter—it all crashed down in a tidal wave, drowning her in a grief she hadn’t expected to feel.

"I thought it would be easier," she admitted, her voice raw, her fingers tightening against his chest. "I thought once he was gone, I’d finally feel free."

Ginger ran his hand down her back, grounding her. "Freedom isn’t instant. It’s not a switch you flip. It’s something you fight for, something you earn. And you did that tonight. You ended him, Nat. You took away his power."

She let out a shaky breath, squeezing her eyes shut. "Then why do I still feel like he owns a part of me?"

Ginger swallowed hard, pulling her even closer. "Because wounds take time to heal. You’re not just mourning him, you’re mourning the version of him you once wished existed. The father you never had."

She nodded against him, a fresh tear slipping down her cheek. "I wanted to hate him completely. I wanted it to be easy."

"Nothing about this was ever going to be easy," Ginger murmured. "But you don’t have to go through it alone."

She lifted her head, searching his face. "And what if I fall apart?"

His thumb brushed against her damp cheek, his gaze unwavering. "Then I’ll catch you. Every single time."

The sirens blared closer, the sound of car doors slamming outside echoing through the compound. Voices shouted orders, boots crunching over gravel. The FBI had arrived.

Nat exhaled shakily, pressing herself deeper into Ginger’s embrace as the world closed in around them.

Elias Carter was dead.

But for Nat, the war was far from over.