Audra Graves carefully placed the dessert plate before Gideon Ashcroft

The night air was biting and cold as Gideon’s armored black SUV glided through the desolate streets of the city. Inside the quiet cabin, the tension was a physical entity. Audra sat in the passenger seat, still wearing her black maid dress, clutching Gideon’s linen handkerchief in her lap. The city lights cast fleeting, golden streaks across her softly heart-shaped face.

Gideon sat beside her, his large hands resting effortlessly on the steering wheel. He had dismissed his driver, choosing to take her to the city morgue himself. His dark three-piece suit blended into the shadows of the vehicle, but his presence was an undeniable, grounding force.

"Are you warm enough?" Gideon asked, his deep voice breaking the heavy silence.

"Yes, thank you," Audra whispered, staring blankly out the window. She rubbed her thumb over Mason's wedding ring. "I didn't think they would let us see him this late."

"Do you believe closed doors apply to me?" Gideon inquired softly, his observant eyes flicking briefly to her profile before returning to the road.

Audra let out a short, hollow breath that might have been a laugh in another life. "No. I suppose they don't."

They drove in silence for another few minutes. The grim, concrete structure of the county morgue loomed in the distance, a stark contrast to the gilded ceilings and crystal chandeliers they had left behind.

"Did he ever tell you why he took the job?" Gideon asked, his voice measured, carefully navigating the raw edges of her grief.

"He said you were a fair man," Audra answered, turning her head to look at him. "He said in a world full of monsters, you were the only one who actually had rules. He believed in you, Mr. Ashcroft."

"Did my rules protect him in the end?" Gideon asked, the question heavy with a dark, bitter self-reproach. The sharply defined line of his jaw clenched tight.

"He stepped in front of you because it was his job," Audra said softly, her expressive brows drawing together. "He loved his job. He wouldn't have wanted you to carry the blame."

"How can I not carry it, when my own house treated you like a slave in the aftermath?" Gideon asked, bringing the heavy vehicle to a smooth stop in front of the morgue's loading bay.

He killed the engine, plunging the cabin into silence. He turned his head, looking directly into Audra's exhausted eyes. The small artistic tattoo on his neck was visible in the dim streetlights.

"Will you let me carry the weight of this for you tonight?" Gideon asked, reaching across the console. He didn't touch her, but he offered his hand, a silent anchor in the storm of her tragedy.

Audra looked at his hand, the refined, generously spaced tattoos stark against his skin. She slowly reached out, placing her smaller, trembling hand in his. His grip was warm and remarkably steady.