The wind is knocked out of my sails as I process what he’s saying. I guess it would make sense, not having to divide assets and agents if we were near each other.

“Plus, we didn’t know you would become friends,” Agent Dylan says, “and we certainly didn’t think this whole thing would end with two of our charges taking on Tony by themselves. But you guys did great. Barely needed our help.”

I shift, holding up the hand with the IV in it to make my point. “Well, we could’ve used some help.”

I drop my hand. He seems somber but still raises an amused eyebrow. “And we would’ve given it if you had called us. If Aiden hadn’t called us we wouldn’t have gotten there in time. You and Annalisa would’ve been a lot worse off if we hadn’t gotten you in that ambulance.”

I grumble in agreement since I can’t really argue with that. I didn’t call him when I should’ve. I didn’t give him enough time to get there or give him the chance to come up with his own plan, one that probably would’ve avoided everything we went through. But we can’t change any of that, and what matters is that he came through, that they saved Annalisa, that they got me help before I bled out.

His face grows serious and his body stiffens. “But I’m sorry we weren’t on top of it. I’m sorry we failed you. I saw your missed calls as I was rounding up people to find you, and you didn’t answer when I called back. You really had me worried. We should’ve been there.”

I scan his face and register the genuine remorse he seems to feel. It’s not his fault, it’s really my own. Everything was going to shit around me and I assumed that included him as well.

“It’s not your fault. Thank you for showing up when you did.”

We sit together, both of us silent, lost in our own thoughts. He honestly does seem to hate the way things played out, and I wish I had put more faith in him.

“So is he really dead?” My voice comes out in a whisper.

I’ve been in shock about everything this whole time, thinking those words but too afraid to voice them.

“He really is. You don’t need to worry, ever again.”

Something I’ve been holding on to in my chest cracks with those words. I saw the bullets lodge in his chest, Mom said she identified the body, and Agent Dylan is confirming it, so it must be true. He’s dead. For real. But do I really never need to worry again? I remember the other phone call I had that day and am going to voice my thoughts but hesitate. Can I trust Agent Dylan if I tell him?

He notices and leans forward, his analytical gaze roaming my face. “What aren’t you telling me?”

My breath hitches, but then I let go of the hesitation and tell him about Andrew and how he called me, about his role in sending Tony to me, about how he tried to kill me on New Year’s Eve. He listens attentively, and promises me he’ll take care of it, and this time I believe him.