Evenfall Chapter Twenty-Four

It was completely dark when Boyd awoke. At first he felt disoriented and it took him a second to realize why. First, he realized he wasn't in his bed. Right after that, he realized his body was sore from leaning against the end of a couch. He straightened his back, rolling out some painful kinks in his neck and shoulders, and looked over.

Sin was lying on the couch, his hair half-covering his closed eyes. One hand rested in front of him with his fingers curled laxly. He looked exhausted but better than he had before, and he seemed to be deeply asleep.

The events of the day before hit Boyd and for a moment he felt a mixture of anxiety and relief. He'd actually gotten away with it, he thought, at the same time as he wondered whether his mother had changed her mind or lied. Whether there were agents gathering to break into Sin's apartment and kill or capture them.

And what if they did that when Sin was still unconscious? It was all well and good to lay down a threat at his mother's feet, but when it came down to it, would he be able to protect Sin in the event of a strategic attempt to recover them? And if not, was he putting Sin in more danger by having done this than if he'd just left him alone?

At the thought, worry was a niggling doubt. Knowing the severity of his crimes, he could only hope he hadn't made matters worse for Sin.

He stayed there, crouched and watching Sin. He was unable to pull himself away, as if any second he spent not watching him would end up being the second it took for someone to show up and drag Sin back to the fourth floor.

As he watched the gentle rise and fall of Sin's chest, he couldn't help noticing how Sin's eyebrows and fingers twitched, as if he were having bad dreams. Yet there was something almost innocent in the slight parting of Sin's lips, the fall of silky black strands across his face, and the movement of his eyes behind his eyelids.

It made Boyd want to touch him, and after a few moments his hand rose of its own accord. He ran his fingers down the side of Sin's face, brushing along those high cheekbones and down through the scruff on Sin's cheeks toward his strong jawline. His fingertips danced along his jaw and paused at his chin. His thumb shifted, rising up to brush against Sin's full lower lip. Sin's dry lip caught briefly against Boyd's thumb, showing a flash of white teeth.

Sin shifted, his eyebrows drawing down and fingers jerking. Boyd let his hand drop away but not before the thought crossed his mind that Sin was beautiful to behold.

He sat back and planned to settle in for awhile but his touch must have drawn Sin out of sleep.

Sin's expression twitched, his eyebrows drawing together, and his fingers curled and then hand shifted down. He squinted and then blinked his eyes open; that vivid green slightly glassy but still searching the room until they centered on Boyd's eyes.

The sleepy, tousled confusion Sin regarded him with made any hesitation Boyd may have felt for waking him dissipate. Having the opportunity to see Sin look at him so openly, without any guardedness or suspicion, made any words Boyd may have planned to say die in his throat.

A smile drew across Boyd's face. "Hey," he greeted Sin quietly.

Sin frowned in confusion, taking in Boyd and then shifting his gaze over Boyd's shoulder. He looked around the room questioningly and started to push himself up.

"We're in your apartment," Boyd explained.

The drugs seemed to slowly be working out of Sin's system. Once he was upright and could look around better, he seemed to be coming back to himself more. Still, it was clear he was having a difficult time grasping the situation. "How did I get here?"

Boyd's hands twitched on the edge of the cushion. For a moment, he wanted to reach up and brush that hair out of Sin's eyes. He wanted to feel that smooth hair and skin again, the same way he'd been able to when he'd been reassuring himself that Sin was okay when he was unconscious. But he knew this wasn't the right time. Maybe it hadn't been when Sin was asleep either.

"Luke Gerant and I brought you here."

Dark eyebrows drew together and Sin shook his head, a bewildered look on his normally guarded face. "Gerant-- what? Who released me?"

"Well..." Boyd paused, his eyebrows drawing together as he tried to determine the best way to explain. "That's harder to answer. Technically no one did but they thought Marshal Connors gave the okay."

"Why the hell would they think that?" Sin asked, his deep voice hoarse from disuse but still managing to sound incredulous.

"Because I stole his seal and forged official documentation for your release."

There was a brief pause as Sin brought a hand up to his head and braced in slightly. His pale green eyes narrowed as he squinted at Boyd, as if he were replaying what he'd just heard.

"I'm not at my best right now because of the drugs but even then, that makes no sense to me. Can you just explain?"

"Sorry." Boyd shifted back until he could sit on the edge of the coffee table to avoid cramping his knees. He leaned forward, his forearms resting on his knees, and studied Sin. "I tried to ask General Carhart and Marshal Connors for help in your release. Carhart wanted to but couldn't do anything about it and Connors didn't answer my request. I thought it would be safest to wait until Connors contacted me, but a few days later Luke Gerant called and told me he was worried about your health. He was afraid there would be lasting effects from the combination of overdosing on the drugs and possible head injuries."

Boyd's eyes narrowed as he remembered the scene he'd been met with in the box. "I'm glad he called. I was worried enough already but it was even worse when I saw your state."

Sin opened his mouth, closed it, and then frowned slightly. He wet his dry lips and ran a hand through his unruly hair. He looked worn out and battered, but his eyes were slowly becoming more alert.

"How did you get the seal?"

"After I heard from Luke I knew I couldn't wait around any longer," Boyd replied. "I managed to get a meeting with Connors but he obviously had no intentions of releasing you or listening to any of my requests. I'd been expecting that possibility and had some plans in place. His seal was on his desk and it worked even better than any of my options, so I stole it."

Once again Sin brought his hand to his head but this time he massaged his temple. His brow puckered again, lips pressing together as he looked away briefly. After awhile he exhaled slowly and sat up straighter on the couch, pushing his shoulders back.

"You're insane."

"Maybe," Boyd said somewhat absently, his attention focusing instead on Sin's face. "How are you feeling? The medics seemed to think you would be okay but I didn't know what to expect."

"I'm fine," was the dismissive response. After a breath Sin dropped his hand. "And what happened with Truman?"

Boyd grimaced and sat up straight. He looked away with narrowed eyes, unable to ignore a flash of remembrance of Harry's disgusting words and groping hands. "Nothing much. Just--" He raised a hand in a vague gesture. "A stupid situation. I was alone and he was angry. He attacked me and then you came."

"Yes but why did he attack you?" Sin demanded, still frowning at Boyd. "I'm kind of interested considering how this all played out."

Boyd sighed and looked over at Sin. "He was angry because his pay had been suspended for months in response to the report I filed. I was going to ignore him but," his eyes narrowed, "then he started saying all this bullshit about you-- how you wanted it and you liked to play rough and maybe I did too." His lips lifted in disgust. "I was so furious. I tried to fight him when he came at me but he was stronger, so..." He shook his head and trailed off.

During his explanation, Sin had gotten up and started to slowly pace the room. His steps were unsteady but he didn't seem to notice. His expression had darkened and his fingers raked through his hair, making his already unruly hair turn into complete disorder.

"You should have just left. Better yet, forget Harry-- you should have just left me up there." Sin stopped and stared at Boyd. His lips were still turned down as a flash of concern appeared on his face. "Boyd, do you realize how much trouble you can be in? Unless your mother manages to convince Connors to do otherwise..."

"I know," Boyd said soberly. His gaze shifted away, focusing on the windows across Sin's living room while his eyebrows drew down. "But I couldn't sit there and do nothing. If you hadn't come when you had, I probably--"

He stopped, frowned, and then waved a hand impatiently. He turned serious honey brown eyes on Sin. "It doesn't matter. The point is, I knew they were punishing you for something you did on my behalf and I couldn't let them do that. Especially since I didn't think you deserved it given the circumstances. All I cared about was getting you free from that. Now that I've achieved my goal, I'm fine with taking responsibility for my actions."

Sin raised his eyebrows, full mouth still pushed down, and crossed his arms over his chest. "So you're fine being terminated?"

Boyd took the time to actually consider that. "When this all started, I would have been," he said honestly. "Now..."

His eyebrows lowered and he looked away, pushing himself up off the coffee table. His gaze was drawn to the windows along the far wall, overlooking the compound and part of Lexington beyond. He walked over to the windows and crossed his arms looking out, a pensive frown on his face that was partially reflected against the sheen of the glass.

He didn't know what he felt anymore. He didn't even know if it had been stupid in the long run to do all this. But he couldn't say he would have changed his mind. Knowing Sin was being tortured for him had made it impossible for him to ignore. Especially since he suspected claustrophobia, and therefore the box, were to Sin what those harrowing days or weeks or whatever period of time had been to him after Lou's death.

And yet, the burning despair that had made him give up on his life, that had made it seem like everyone would be better off without him, wasn't there to suffocate his thoughts anymore. After Ryan had cared about him, after Carhart and even his mother had tried to help-- After Sin had appeared and had shown he didn't hate him, he didn't want him to die...

Boyd sighed as he turned around. How ironic that the possibility of his death was even higher now, when it wasn't what he was actively seeking, than it had been when he'd wanted it.

"I don't know," he said finally. "It may be best to say I wouldn't regret it if it has to happen. But I'd rather they didn't."

Sin's eyes narrowed at that. Once again he opened his mouth to say something but paused and seemed to think better of it. Instead he walked over to Boyd and looked at him for a long moment.

"I'm going to shower." Another pause. "Thank you."

Boyd's face broke into a genuine smile. Some of the earlier doubt about whether he'd made things worse for Sin disappeared at those two words. "You're welcome."

Sin looked at him for another extended moment before finally turning away and going into the bathroom.

Boyd watched the door for a few seconds and then turned and headed into the kitchen to make something for Sin to eat. He checked the fridge first and was greeted with raw fish and meat. He raised his eyebrows and pushed items around, trying to find something that wouldn't require preparation. He'd expected to find sweets and easily microwaved options, or maybe even something to make a salad. He didn't find anything there or in the freezer.

What the hell was he supposed to do with any of that? He had no idea how to make anything on the stove or oven or whatever he was supposed to use for those kinds of things. He was almost resentful of Sin's fridge and freezer for its complete lack of ready-made meals.

The freezer door made a quiet whumping noise when he closed it. He frowned and looked around. There wasn't anything out on the counter and he started to check a few cupboards. There was nothing of use in the first two, except a jar of peanut butter and a loaf of bread missing a few slices. He put both of those on the counter and was reaching for another cupboard when he heard his cell phone jingle.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. The display told him that he'd received a text message. When he pulled it up, he saw it was from Ryan, warning him that Carhart was looking for him. Boyd frowned, worried about what Carhart would have to say, either on his behalf or to inform him of what the administration had decided. He stared at the phone cradled in his palm for a moment, mind racing down the tracks of what if's, before he stopped them.

None of that mattered and worrying about it wasn't going to help. He'd made his decisions and he was going to stick by them, regardless of the consequences. He sent a quick thanks back to Ryan for the heads up and tossed his phone on the kitchen table.

He realized after he turned back to the counter that he no longer heard the water running in the bathroom. Knowing Sin was going to be coming out soon, he decided to make a peanut butter sandwich for the moment until he could determine what else was available.

A few moments passed before Sin came back into the main area. He was adjusting a pair of loose sweatpants and tying them in the front.

"I see you made a garbage heap of my cameras," he commented.

Boyd looked up as he twisted off the lid on the peanut butter. "I did." He put the lid down and opened a drawer, looking for the silverware.

"Good."

Sin walked over to the kitchen area and leaned against the counter. His head was still terribly bruised but he looked more alert than he had before. He crossed his arms over his chest and watched Boyd. "You sure went out of your way to do everything possible to piss them off."

Boyd smiled slightly to himself and pulled a butter knife out of the silverware drawer that he finally found on the third try. "It seems I did, although it wasn't done to anger them." He found a plate and set it on the table. "I know my mother was angry. I suspect Connors will be even more so."

Sin stared after him contemplatively, eyes narrowing slightly. "Was your mother here?"

Boyd nodded as he opened the plastic on the loaf of bread. "Briefly." He pulled out two slices of bread and put them on the plate.

"Ah," Sin said finally, slowly. "I thought I'd heard her voice."

He looked away again, face unreadable. He walked over to the kitchen counter. Boyd finished making him a peanut butter sandwich and slid it across the counter. Sin picked it up and ate it in a few large bites. After he was finished, he grabbed the container of peanut butter, scooping it out with his fingers and eating it plain.

"Why haven't they brought me back yet?"

Without intending to, Boyd's gaze lingered on the sight of Sin's fingers disappearing into his mouth. "I don't know," he said absently, distracted by the way Sin's lips curved and the faint sheen of saliva on his fingers when they pulled out.

Realizing what he was doing, he dragged his gaze away. He decided to check the rest of Sin's cupboards to see if there was anything more substantial that he could make.

"My mother planned to help," he continued as he opened a cupboard and saw a can of soup.

"She said she would allow you to recover here. I imagine it has to clear through Connors, though."

Sin lifted himself up and sat on the counter, legs dangling over the side as he stared at Boyd and continued to spoon out peanut butter with his fingers. He swung his legs idly and his feet bumped into Boyd as he did so. Whether it was on purpose or accident Boyd didn't know, but it was such a relaxed, childlike thing to do that it made him seem nothing like a man who'd been delirious and on the verge of death just a day prior.

"Why in hell would she do that?" he asked mildly. "She doesn't particularly care for me, you know."

Boyd set the can of soup on the counter, trying to ignore the light jostling of Sin's foot. It was impossible to keep from looking sidelong at Sin and being once more distracted by that damn jar of peanut butter. The casual way Sin slipped his fingers in and out of his mouth made Boyd remember their tongues clashing in France; the way Sin tasted. With it came the unbidden question of how it would feel to have Sin's lips--

Suddenly reaching out, Boyd snatched the jar away from Sin and put it out of his reach. "Stop," he said abruptly.

For a second he didn't even know if he was talking to himself or Sin. He peered at Sin and did his best not to stare at his mouth. Sin was still recovering from serious health issues. He didn't need Boyd thinking about what it would be like to taste his mouth again-- and after that, taste a whole lot more.

"That's- unsanitary," Boyd added after a second, trying to cover for the thoughts he was having. "Eat it with something that's not... Your fingers..."

"Tastes better this way," Sin replied and licked his hand clean, staring at the jar longingly for a moment. He seemed completely unaware of what was going through Boyd's mind.

Boyd shook his head to himself and grabbed the can of soup out of the cupboard. Once more he thought about how unfortunate it was to have such an attractive partner. It made it difficult to concentrate on anything else at times.

Sin watched Boyd and raised an eyebrow. "So?"

"I don't know." Boyd opened the utensil drawer looking for a can opener. "I didn't expect her to agree, let alone help. She did say it would be inconvenient if you were incapacitated indefinitely." He found an old hand-crank one half buried under a vegetable peeler, some spatulas, and a dull-looking knife. He set the can opener on the edge of the lid and started opening it. His attention was on twisting the gear and holding the turning can.

"And I suppose I did tell her that I refused to leave until you could defend yourself and to expect a fight if the issue was forced before then," he added absently after a second. "I doubt that changed her mind but it's possible the idea of another scene was irritating to her and added another reason."

Sin nodded slowly and continued to sit on the counter, his shoulders slumped as he stared into space. There was silence for several moments aside from the quiet skid of the can's edge against the counter top.

"What I don't get," Sin said at length, eyebrows drawn together, "is why you did this at all. I get that you're grateful that I killed Harry, and I'm not trying to be an asshole here, but I don't down shift this fast. You had me on ignore for awhile now, and we've barely been getting along. It seems a little odd that you're suddenly my white knight after that, unless it's residual guilt over almost getting my head blown off a few times in that mission."

Boyd looked over at Sin, studying him contemplatively. There was a pause and then he shook his head. He found a microwavable container drying in the sink and poured the soup inside. "I won't lie; the fact that the majority of this is my fault was a large factor in it. But it wasn't only that. I..."

He trailed off briefly, trying to figure out how much he wanted to say or even how to explain what rightfully so had to seem like an extreme shift of his actions. His lips thinned in a twitch and his eyebrows drew down as he shook his head. He turned around to meet Sin's eyes.

"For however it looked to you, aside from individual moments of frustration, my opinion of you never changed throughout any of this. Even if there had been a way for these circumstances to have occurred without that mission or Harry, I would have lobbied for your release if not done more. I know what it feels like to be left in terrible circumstances and I would never do that to you. You're my partner and that means something to me."

There was a long stretch of silence which passed with Boyd putting the soup in the microwave and setting it for a few minutes. Sin scratched the back of his neck somewhat awkwardly. It seemed to occur to him that he was supposed to say something because his face went through a variety of expression changes before he just said, "Ah."

Boyd watched Sin for a moment and then turned to start searching the cupboards for the bowls. "Now that I think about it, why were you in the library anyway?"

Sin had gone back to idly rubbing his forehead, eyebrows drawn together as if he was in pain. It wasn't too surprising considering the bruising. What was more shocking was that Sin was so functional in the first place.

"Oh, that. Ryan came to my apartment to inform me of some things that had occurred while I was on my solo. I wanted to speak to you about it."

"Oh." The word carried some weight. Boyd's hand paused in the act of opening a cupboard. He looked over, wondering what exactly Ryan told Sin. "Did we already talk about what you wanted to talk about?"

"I don't really remember what it was anymore. I guess I just wanted to make sure that uh," Sin paused, staring down at the counter. "I guess, that you knew I didn't actually hate you or anything. I just think you're really annoying a lot."

Boyd's lips pulled to the side in a wry smile. "Ah. Thank you. I think."

Sin sighed. He looked frustrated and shook his head, reaching out to grab Boyd's shoulder. Sin tugged him closer, meeting his eyes with a slight frown.

"I had more to say but it doesn't come out right when I try."

The curl of Sin's fingers over Boyd's shoulder surprised him. Boyd let himself be pulled over, his stomach brushing faintly against Sin's inner knee as he breathed. He brought his hands up without thinking and nearly rested one on Sin's side before he realized what he was about to do. He placed his palms on the counter on either side of Sin's thighs instead. His lips parted but Sin's eyes were so green as they focused on him that for a second he forgot what he was going to say.

"It's alright," he said after a moment. "As long as I know you don't hate me, it's enough."

"I never--" Sin stopped and frowned, although he didn't break Boyd's gaze. He brushed his hand up and squeezed Boyd's shoulder before raising it hesitantly until he was touching Boyd's chin. "I never hated you. It's the fucking opposite. And it's really hard for me--"

He stopped again, looking frustrated. He released Boyd's chin but didn't pull his hand away; it hovered there for a moment, uncertain, and then his fingers brushed Boyd's face. They slid up his jaw hesitantly before cupping Boyd's cheek, his thumb stroking one of the bruises that was slowly fading.

The feel of it made Boyd's heart beat faster. His hand lifted to touch Sin's; staying there as if to stop Sin from pulling away. Sin's calloused fingertips, lightly brushing against his skin, contrasted against the smooth back of his hand. It put Boyd in mind of the night before, when he'd spent an undetermined amount of time gently cleaning those long fingers of blood, thinking about the vulnerability and strength contained within those hands.

It almost felt like this couldn't be real; like there was no way Sin in reality would pull him closer and say that. Boyd shifted, subconsciously bringing himself closer to Sin. His lower stomach pressed against the edge of the counter, his sides hemmed in by Sin's knees.

The sound of someone new clearing their throat was abrupt and unexpected.

Boyd jerked back, automatically pulling away as he looked over his shoulder in surprise.

Sin dropped his hand and shot an unwelcoming glare at Carhart. "What do you want?" he asked moodily.

Carhart stood by the doorway. His eyebrows were raised as slightly as he stared. "I see you are feeling well enough to be rude," he said flatly.

Boyd stepped fully away from Sin, his expression shifting to default neutral as he watched Carhart. With Sin's proximity, he'd completely forgotten about Ryan's warning.

"General," he greeted respectfully, hoping to avoid angering the man even further than he likely already had.

Sin slid off the counter, leaning against it and crossing his arms over his chest as he eyed Carhart suspiciously.

"I'd like to know what the hell you thought you were doing?" he demanded, cerulean blue eyes focused on Boyd. "And I don't want to hear about how dire Sin's situation was and how you had to do everything in your power-- save the bullshit. You brought yourself and Sin three steps closer to termination. His concussion could have goddamn waited."

"I--" Boyd started to say, but any answer he had quelled at the words. For all that he didn't regret his actions, he had to admit that it did all seem a lot more rash looking back than it had at the time. He stopped, glanced at Sin, and then shook his head. "I have no excuse, sir."

Carhart shook his head, glare switching from Boyd to Sin. "If you were anyone else, you would be dead now. Don't let that make you cocky. If you pull a stunt like this again, the Marshal won't let you off the hook a second time. You made him look like an idiot, and you're lucky it was something that was easily covered up. The general population thinks Sin was officially released."

Sin smirked at that. "The guards will know."

"And they'll know to keep their mouths shut. It isn't difficult to get rid of the lot of them and replace them with low ranking and not progressing field agents," Carhart replied coldly. "You're lucky that can't be said for the two of you. You're currently irreplaceable in your own rights. It would be a mistake to use that information and let it turn you into a liability instead of an asset."

"I understand, sir," Boyd said, subdued. He didn't know how irreplaceable he was, really, since Adam Blake could be brought in. It was continually hitting him more as time passed that he was damn lucky to be alive and free. "I'll be more mindful of my actions in the future."

"You had better."

Carhart gave them a hard look, and then turned and left without another word.

Boyd looked at Sin after Carhart had left. Before he could say anything, the humming of the microwave ended with a ding. He pulled some bowls out of the cupboard and opened the microwave door. "That went... well," he commented.

"Yeah, his bitching was down to a minimum."

Boyd nodded and gingerly pulled out the hot container by holding it on the very edges. "Sin," he said with a drawn expression, keeping his eyes on the soup so it wouldn't slop over the side. Although that was partially an excuse so he didn't have to see Sin's face when he asked his next question. "You're not-- angry with me for all this, are you? I know it may be a stupid thing to ask but if my actions did make it worse for you than just leaving you alone..."

"What? No," Sin replied quickly, his voice sounding surprised. "I appreciate what you did for me. No one's ever tried to help me before."

Setting the bowl carefully on the counter, Boyd looked over and studied Sin. When he saw nothing but truth written on his face, Boyd felt some of the tension relax within him that he hadn't fully realized was there. He ran a hand back through his hair.

"Good," he said with relief, and dropped his hand at his side. "If you'd been angry with me over this too, I would have felt like I may have done the wrong thing."

"You did the wrong thing to the Agency," Sin replied, eyes flitting over Boyd's face. "But you did something good for me. They wouldn't have let me out until there was a mission that needed me, and with as slow as things have been, that could have been weeks, maybe longer."

Boyd smiled, a somewhat solemn expression. "That was the main reason why I did it. I didn't know how long the delay would be, but..." He paused, lifting a hand in a vague gesture before shaking his head. "Any delay would be too long."

Sin didn't answer but Boyd wasn't expecting him to. He turned back to the drawers, locating the silverware drawer he'd found earlier when searching for the can opener. He pulled out two spoons and as an afterthought a ladle.

"I don't think even I can ruin microwaved soup but I suppose we're about to find out."

Sin looked at the soup almost suspiciously. "What is this anyway? They order all of this crap for me."

"Vegetable beef," Boyd replied. He held up the loaf of bread and added as if it weren't obvious, "We're having it with bread."

"Vegetables, huh?" Sin looked into the bowl disapprovingly but said nothing else about it.

Boyd didn't answer but he shook his head slightly in faint amusement. He brought the bread, container of soup and the two empty bowls for them as well as the spoons over to the kitchen table, balancing everything carefully. Once it was all set down, he pulled out a chair and looked at Sin expectantly, who was still hovering in the middle of the kitchen.

Sin stared at the table as if it were some strange, alien creation and scratched the back of his neck before throwing himself down into the chair opposite Boyd. He propped his elbows up and stuck one of his fingers in the container, sucking the broth off. "Not bad."

"Have you never heard of spoons?" Boyd asked with an arched brow, nudging the utensil closer.

"Spoons are for the weak," Sin declared mildly although he picked up the ladle and dumped some of the soup into his bowl. He looked at Boyd through his hair and then poured the rest into the other.

Boyd looked down and noticed that his had more. Reaching over, he switched their bowls and pushed the fuller one to Sin. He looked up with raised eyebrows, as if challenging Sin to try to reverse his actions.

Sin made a face. "You're skinnier than me," he pointed out, but didn't argue.

"You need it more than I do." Boyd ripped off a chunk of bread and dipped it into the soup, watching as color spread across the white.

Sin snorted and looked skeptical but said nothing.

The rest of dinner passed simply, with the occasional back and forth.

As time passed, Boyd felt more and more comfortable with what he'd done. He'd started to worry for awhile that the repercussions would outweigh the good, which he only cared about if Sin had regretted that Boyd had gotten involved. Seeing Sin feel more at ease in his own apartment, free from the constant surveillance and able to relax in some fashion, made everything worth it. Knowing that he'd helped Sin when no one else had ever really tried, and that Sin appreciated it, made it even better.

Although it seemed the consequences were diverted for the moment despite the enormity of the stunt he'd pulled, even if it all came back to bite him later he wouldn't have changed anything. Seeing Sin slouched at the kitchen table, comfortable in his own home for probably the first time ever, Boyd knew he could never regret what he did.

Continue to Chapter 25