"Release her," Alexander spoke with more authority than I had ever heard in his tone before, "or your beloved father will not make it into police custody."

At the mention of police, the windows around us shattered and uniformed men entered through every available entrance, batons in hand, poised to strike. Some came through the broken windows, some came through the door behind Alexander, and some even came from the stairs behind me. I heard the sound of a hundred pairs of boots and took a breath for the first time that afternoon.

Alexander saw my relief just as Michael and William hesitantly obeyed his orders. My arms dropped to my sides, forgotten, as I stared into that ocean of blue that I had missed so much. He stared right back and, for a moment, we were lost. More emotion than I ever could have expected threatened to overwhelm me in that moment. I did not know how, I did not know why, but he was here. He was standing right in front of me again and that was all I had wished for over the past few months. To see him again. My knees practically buckled at the sight.

He took a step forward. For what, I did not know. And I would not find out because at that moment, Chief Detective Ryland entered the manor as well and announced to all who were gathered, "Gwendolyn Marlow, you are under arrest for criminal activity involving the Keene family business."

Suddenly, everything was happening very quickly. The Chief Detective himself stepped forward with his handcuffs. Pulling my arms behind my back, he secured my wrists before leading me out by the elbow. I heard George Keene's undignified shouting as other detectives stepped forward to handcuff he and his sons as well. When I stepped out of the manor with Ryland, I turned my head in time to see Cecily being dragged into a carriage in handcuffs as well. She was shouting obscenities at the officer holding her, fighting and kicking him as he tried to get her into the coach. I took a breath and allowed myself to be led on, staring straight ahead at the carriage that awaited me with a stone-faced officer standing sentry beside it.

"I'll meet you at the station," Ryland whispered almost imperceptibly as he passed me off to the waiting officer. The man opened the carriage and gave me a look that seemed to dare me to defy him. I did not. I climbed in willingly, taking my time to settle in without the free use of my hands to steady myself.

Once I had finally taken my seat as comfortably as I could with my hands secured at my back, I glanced up to see that the Chief Detective hadn't gotten far. He was standing only a few yards away, hands on the chest of Alexander Langley, physically restraining him from running to me. Alexander was red in the face and barking something I could not hear. I saw him point angrily in my direction once before the officer shut the carriage door and I was left in darkness.

The coach began to move a moment later and I spent the whole of my journey fighting to remain upright without the balance afforded me by my arms. When we arrived at the station, the same officer pulled me from the carriage and dragged me up the steps and into the main hall. The desks arranged around the open floor were far busier than usual, officers and detectives alike bustling about to prepare for the booking of several prominent members of society. Some of the Keene's had already arrived. Cecily watched me curiously as I was thrown unceremoniously onto a hard metal chair beside a vacant desk. I looked back at her, hoping the fear was plain enough in my eyes to convince her that I was in just as much trouble as she. But, after a moment, she simply looked away and I wasn't sure if I had been convincing enough.

I was left alone in my seat for what felt like forever. Finally, the Chief Detective emerged from his office, having just finished a conference with some of his best detectives, and called for Gwendolyn Marlowe. I stood and approached, hands still cuffed behind my back. When I entered his office, he closed the blinds and shut the door behind me. Then he pulled a small key from his pocket and unlocked my handcuffs. As he removed them, I stretched out my wrists, rubbing them where the metal had chafed the skin.

"I apologize for the discomfort, Miss Porter," Ryland muttered as he tossed the handcuffs onto his desk and took a seat behind it. "We had to make it convincing."

I nodded but remained standing, my back still sore from sitting in that metal chair for so long.

"Higgins gave it up the moment I brought him in," the Chief Detective told me and I watched him as he leaned back and sighed. "When you said to be careful of him, I brought him in here the very next day. I confronted him and he cracked the moment I mentioned how greatly this would shame his family. He's negotiated a deal for himself. He's one of our primary witnesses. He's agreed to testify against George Keene, to tell the court everything he knows and everything he's told him over the years, in exchange for avoiding jail time himself. He's lost his job, obviously. He will never work in law enforcement again. But his wife and his four kids, they'll be okay now that he's free to pursue other work."

I nodded slowly. I wasn't sure how much I liked the idea of a highly trained treacherous ex police officer walking free but George Keene was, by far, the greater evil and if it meant he never saw the light of day again, I would settle for Higgins' testimony.

"I was already pursuing the arrest," Ryland continued. "I was doing the paperwork, dotting all of my I's and crossing all my T's when Harrison ran in here like a madman saying you handed him the final nail in George Keene's coffin."

I smiled.

"That's fine work there, Miss Porter, very fine work indeed. I don't imagine we'd have half the case against him that we do if it hadn't been for those letters you gave us."

"Have you spoken to Mr. Campbell?" I asked.

"I've got York on it now," he told me with a smile. "He's angry about being taken in by his own partner. I haven't seen him put this much effort into a case since he was a rookie. If anyone will get the testimony we need, it's a man scorned. He's meeting with Campbell in his own home now. Then he will go to the next name on the list, and the next, until we've built up enough to be sure George Keene won't walk."

I nodded, breathing a sigh of relief to know just how solid of a case we had managed to build against the Keene family.

"I couldn't have done this without you, Miss Porter," the Chief Detective said then and his voice had noticeably softened. I looked up to find him leaning toward me in earnest. "I always wanted to take down the Keene's. I always knew they were up to no good. But it took you giving up your identity and diving in headfirst to reveal just how deep their influence went. Stolen jewels, gambling, assaults, and murders. That's going to be tough for them to talk their way out of, especially with all the testimony about the threats he's made to the wealthy that we're going to have."

I couldn't help but smile. Finally, it was all over. All of the lying, pretending to be someone I wasn't. All of the fear and the insomnia just from being trapped in the home of my enemy. It was over. I could get back to my life now, whatever that was going to look like.

"Thank you, sir," I answered with a smile.

"I would hire you in an instant, if I could," he told me. "But since you're..."

"A woman."

He gave me a sad smile and I only nodded in understanding.

"But I will make sure you get credit," he vowed. "When the journalists come this afternoon-"

"No," I interrupted him. "I don't want my name in the papers. I don't need credit. I just... there's a gambling den in the East End called Dice. When you get around to investigating it, if you could ensure that the debts of a Mr. William Porter are erased-"

"Consider it done, Miss Porter," Chief Detective Ryland said with a smile and stood behind his desk, sticking out a hand. I shook it and we smiled at one another for a moment, basking in the culmination of weeks' worth of terrifying undercover work and an exhausting investigation.

I gathered my things and turned toward the door but, as I reached it, I paused.

"Alexander," I started. "How-"

"That's something he will have to tell you himself," Ryland answered, sitting back behind his desk. "He's waiting for you now, I imagine. I wouldn't let him come to the station. I told him to go home, that I would send you there afterwards."

I nodded and said goodbye before wrenching open the door to his office and making my way through the now empty hall to the front door.

Stepping onto the street beyond felt like something of a rebirth. I paused to take a deep breath of the crisp afternoon air. The sun was beginning to set in the distance, bathing the city in a warm ethereal glow. I watched it for a time as officers and citizens passed by me on the steps, bumping my shoulders more than a few times but I didn't mind.

Finally, when I had taken the time for some stillness after the terror of the day, I strode down the last of the steps and called a hansom on the curb. I gave the driver the Langley's address and settled in for the ride as the nervousness settled into the pit of my stomach. The last time I had seen Alexander Langley, I had lied to him. There was no telling what sort of greeting I could be expecting. Likely, I would receive one of his famous lectures where he would cross his arms and shout about how dangerous what I'd done was. I smiled in the carriage at the thought of it. I would do anything just to hear his voice again, even if that voice was shouting at me in anger.

The carriage arrived outside of the Langley residence almost too soon. I wasn't emotionally prepared to see him again. I could feel the tears in the corners of my eyes before the driver even opened the door. I thanked him and exited, stepping out onto the walk and rubbing my wrists out of nervous anticipation as I took my first few steps forward. But then I stopped.

I had heard the sound of the front door opening and I glanced up to find Alexander standing in the threshold, chest heaving and hair disheveled as if he had done nothing but pace since we had been separated. His eyes met mine and they were so heavy with something I could not identify that the tears gathered in my own began to stream down my face. But I gave him a smile to let him know how overwhelmed I was to see him.

Then he took the first step toward me. Then another and another. I remained firmly rooted to the ground just a few feet from the road, heart racing faster with every step he took closer. He was walking at first, tentatively as if afraid I would crack from the vibrations on the pavement beneath us. But then he went faster until he was nearly running. I saw others gathered in the doorway, watching us, but only briefly before he met me on the sidewalk and lifted me into his arms. I gasped at the contact and looked down at his face as he stared up at me with such reverence it made my lips part in surprise. Then he kissed me.

It was like the first breath of air when you've been drowning. It was like a new life beginning, blooming in my chest and burning all the way out to my fingertips. It was sweet but with the heat behind it of a man starved of an affection he's been longing for. He devoured me as if he had been craving me and I was relieved to know I wasn't the only one with such a desperate desire.

"Alexander," I whispered his name once I managed to get my wits about me enough to pull away. He gazed up into my eyes as he held me there in his arms. I never wanted to leave but I told him anyway, "They'll see."

His lips turned up into that enticing smirk that panged my heart with how badly I had missed it and, when he answered me, it was in a breathless whisper.

"Let them," he said and his lips were on mine again.