Sam had been through it all.
He had fought.
He had killed.
And now, as he stumbled into the room and dropped to his knees again, he knew it was over. Singh, panicked, rushed towards him, her bruised face wet from tears as much as the rain.
‘Come on, Sam. Fight, goddam it.’ She slammed a weak fist against him. ‘We have to go.’
‘It’s okay, Amara,’ Sam said, trying to smile as he reached a hand up, gently stroking the wet hair from her face. ‘It’s over.’
‘There must be a way out of here.’
‘There’s only one.’ Sam looked her dead in the eye. ‘You have to arrest me.’
Singh stood up, her eyes widening with shock as she shook her head.
‘What? No. There has to be something else. A fire escape or something.’
‘Amara, please.’ Sam’s voice was twisted with pain. ‘It’s the only way.’
‘Sam, you will go to jail for the rest of your life. Do you understand that?’
‘I know. But unless you put me in cuffs and march me out of that door, then so will you.’ Sam offered her a smile, his eyes watering and a tear trickled down his cheek. ‘The fight is over, Amara.’
She regarded him carefully, knowing then that the man she’d been tasked with hunting all those months ago had turned out to be the man she loved. While it wasn’t the usual romance she’d been force fed in books, or the preconceived notion of love conjured up by her parents.
It was love.
Sam stood for something.
What was right.
He had fought, without mercy, without fear, for the things he had believed in. To save an innocent woman, caught up in a diabolical bomb plot. To rescue teenage girls, whom he’d never met, from a fate worse than death.
To avenge his friend, who died trying to do the right thing.
To avenge his mentor, who had fought for the truth.
Sam may not have abided by the law, but he was a good man, and as she looked at him struggling through the pain, she could feel the selflessness of his offer.
His freedom would be devoured by the police in an instant, but it would save her future.
After everything, all the people he’d killed, all those he had saved, he was still doing the right thing.
The man was a hero, and it broke her heart that the justice system would see him as the complete opposite.
Slowly, Singh lowered herself down, face to face with him and she cupped his wet face with her cold hands.
‘The fight is over,’ she agreed, trying to smile through her tears. ‘You won.’
Sam reached up, gently resting his hand on hers, and they kissed. Devoid of the steamy passion of the one they’d shared in the lift the previous day, this one was soft. Tender.
A kiss goodbye.
After a few moments, locked together, Sam pulled away and woozily smiled.
‘Let’s go.’
Singh wiped her eyes, nodded her agreement, and then helped Sam to his feet, supporting his weight over her shoulder as she helped him limp towards the door.
Step by step, they slowly made their way back down the stairwell, Sam’s compromised mental state reliving some of the moments as he stormed the build the year before. Singh guided him down the steps and as they shuffled towards the front door, she pulled his hands behind his bloodied back and slapped her cuffs on him.
Sam had been arrested.
Singh had got her man.
Amara Singh didn’t fail.
But while her career would no doubt fly after this momentous occasion, it felt like failure. As they stepped out into the basking glow of the blue lights, she watched as an entire armed squadron circled Sam like a pack of sharks, their rifles ready, their demands for him to get on the ground, furious.
Sam obliged, gently dropping to his knees, his head bowed forward, the rain crashing against his beaten, broken body. Assistant Commissioner Ashton stormed from the crowd, walking through the armed guard that had surrounded them both and she looked at Singh with astonishment.
‘Well done,’ she said, her words laced with envy. ‘It seems you have done the impossible.’
‘He needs medical attention, Ma’am.’ Singh pleaded, but Ashton didn’t seem interested. With a sneer across her tired face, she looked down at Sam with an undeserved sense of achievement.
‘You are done, Sam,’ Ashton snapped spitefully. ‘You will go to prison and you will pay for the crimes you have committed. No one, not even you, are beyond the Metropolitan Police.’
Singh rolled her eyes, her head aching from the abuse it had taken over the last few days. There had been a time where she would have admired Ashton’s gumption, the power play of lauding over Sam in front of so many officers and the public was not lost on her.
But Singh didn’t care about that anymore.
She cared about what was right.
What was wrong.
And how Sam had shown her that there was a grey area in between. She looked down at Sam, who was breathing slowly. Ashton, her teeth bared like an attack dog, smirked at Sam for a few more moments before ushering over two of the armed officers.
‘Put him in the van.’ They hopped to it, reaching down and hauling Sam to his feet.
‘Careful.’ Singh barged in, to Ashton’s furious surprise. Singh helped pull Sam up and he offered her one last glance before he was hauled off towards the van, the two officers caring little for the state he was in.
To all the watching eyes, he was the prize catch.
The most dangerous man walking the streets of London.
Now, beaten and cuffed, he was just another criminal.
As Singh watched, her chest hurting through heartbreak as Sam was shoved into the van, Ashton, her coat wrapped warmly around her, sidled up next to her.
‘Forget him,’ she offered, almost with care. ‘Whatever the man did, he is a criminal. And you, you brought him in. This won’t be forgotten.’
Singh turned and looked at Ashton, staring a hole through her superior. The harrowing bruising on her face caused Ashton to divert her gaze uncomfortably and Singh smirked,
