"I can't do this." Clare paced back and forth across the long, gray hallway, her hands clenched into tightly wound fists. The California prison was all steel, concrete, and glass—higher tech than he'd expected, but they'd never expected Creighton to make it back to California.

Rory had asked his father, Seamus Kavanagh, to look into how Creighton had managed to transfer his sentence from New York to California, and while they still weren’t entirely sure, it looked like some strategic bribes placed in the right hands had done the trick.

All he could hope was no one on the Parole Commission could be swayed by cash or blackmail. Seamus had assured him that there were no unusual transactions found in the hearing examiner's records, so they had to hope for the best. Rory’s family’s methods were rarely entirely legal, as his father’s background in the Irish mafia could attest to, but their intent was always for the greater good.

Well, mostly.

Clare ran her hands down the sides of her skirt, straightening it. He wanted to be able to say something, anything, that might make her feel better. The nervous energy was pouring off of her, and despite his best attempts to distract her over the last week, he knew she wouldn’t feel better until this was all over and Creighton was still behind bars. “I’ll be right here the entire time.”

She barely seemed to hear him, nodding her head. “I know. I know. I just…he can’t get out, Rory. He can’t. You don’t understand what life was like—knowing he could show up at any moment to drag me home. Knowing I could run but he’d find me. Who I was when I was with him…I don’t even recognize her now.”

“You’re not that person anymore.” Rory steered her toward him, wrapping his arms around her back. “You’re one of the bravest, smartest, kindest people I know.” Her gaze didn’t seem to find his. She was far away, haunted. He took her hands, kissing the inside of her wrist gently. “It’s almost over, Clare.”

Finally, she nodded. “Soon.”

“Soon.” Hell, it better be over soon. Five years behind bars wasn’t nearly enough for the asshole who stabbed both his wife and his dog. Not to mention the laundry list of other crimes that had been tacked on from money laundering to drugs.

Even if Creighton was released, there was zero chance he’d let him anywhere near Clare, his family, or even New York. If he had to hire an around-the-clock investigator to track Creighton’s every move, he would. He would do whatever Clare needed to feel safe again.

That was his priority.

“Ms. Ivers?” A tall, thin man in a suit stepped into the hallway from a side room and smiled at them.

Clare’s head popped up. “Yes. Though, it’s Mrs. Kavanagh now.”

“My apologies.” He extended a hand to her, and then Rory. “I’m Seth Chan, but you’re welcome to just call me Seth. I’ll be taking you back to the hearing room. If you both would like to follow me.” He pointed down the hall and began walking.

They kept pace a few feet behind him as he guided them through several locked doors requiring them to show badges to a camera before being buzzed through.

“So, when the hearing examiner begins, he’ll talk to the offender for a few minutes. They will have a chance to explain why they believe they should be released, and then their case manager will probably say a few words in their defense as well. You’ll then be given a chance to give your statement. The examiner will already have the written recommendations from the judge, district attorney, and defense attorney that they’ll use to make their decision. The decision will be made today, but it’ll still have to pass through another examiner to be considered official which can take about three weeks.”

“Three weeks?” Clare spoke up. “I won’t know for certain for three whole weeks?”

“It’s very rare that the second examiner reverses the decision, but, technically, yes.”

Rory squeezed her hand, a small sign of assurance as they were ushered into a small room that looked like a less official, smaller court room. An older man with a balding head of white hair sat at a large table in the front of the room, several small stacks of paper spread out in front of him. Professionally dressed in an expensive suit, he looked out of place in the dim, gray settings of the prison.

“You’re welcome to sit anywhere on this side.” Seth pointed to the folding chairs on the right side of the room. “The examiner will ask you to stand when it’s your turn to give a statement.”

Rory nodded at Seth. “Thank you.”

“Of course. I’ll be out in the hall and will escort you back to the exit when you’re ready.”

“Thank you, Seth,” Clare said, then headed to the front row of the folding chairs to take her seat.

Rory joined her, glancing around at the mostly empty room. There were a few people in the back row who looked like they weren't necessarily connected to this case but rather worked at the prison. A man with slicked-back hair and a dark suit sat on the opposite side of the room, examining a file in his hands. He couldn’t be sure, but Rory suspected him to be Creighton’s case manager.

“Are we early?” Clare leaned toward him, whispering.

Rory glanced at his watch. “Barely. Two minutes.”

She nodded, thrumming her fingers against her knees. Another minute passed before the door they’d enter through opened again. Clare went still, not turning her head, and her jaw tightened.

Rory slid his hand over her knee, covering one of her hands with his. She gave him a small smile, squeezing his hand. A guard walked past them, escorting Travis Creighton to the other side of the room. Dressed in a collared shirt and slacks, Travis looked heavier than before and his head was shaved, a tattoo across his neck that Rory didn’t remember seeing before.

Travis grinned back at them after he’d taken a seat, but Clare didn’t turn her head. She stared straight ahead at the examiner, a fire in her eyes he’d been waiting for. She sat up a little straighter, set her jaw tight, and the fear he’d seen all day was replaced with anger. Power emanated from her just by her presence, and he’d never been so goddamn proud.

The older man at the front of the room soon began the hearing, explaining the process to the people gathered there. He described the charges Creighton had been convicted under, and the terms of his sentence, along with what qualifications he’d need to meet to be eligible for parole.

Creighton’s slick case manager was given the first chance to speak, describing his client as a model prisoner who’d demonstrated good behavior and actively pursued rehabilitation during incarceration. It was a load of shit. There was no doubt in Rory’s mind that Creighton was playing a game, putting on a show to get what he wanted. From what Clare had told him of her past, he was damn good at manipulating people.

“Mr. Creighton, would you like to say a few words?” The examiner gestured toward Creighton.

“Yes, sir.” Creighton stood, his hands folded politely in front of him. “After five years in custody, I believe that I have proven that I can be a law-abiding member of the community. I’ve gotten along with the staff, never caused any issues, and I regularly volunteer in the law library. I’ve worked hard and managed to obtain an associate’s degree in an attempt to better myself and return to civilian life. I truly believe that I have reformed and will be able to live an upstanding life in the community.”

The examiner’s face showed no emotion. “Do you have plans for what you’ll do upon release?”

“I’ll move in with my brother, find a job, and continue my education. I will abide by any plan my parole officer sets forth for me, as well.”

Rory could see Clare almost vibrating with fury beside him, and he couldn’t blame her. Creighton was a pro. If Rory hadn’t known the truth, he’d have almost believed this good guy act he was putting on for the examiner.

“Is there anything else you’d like to say before we move on?”

Creighton nodded, and this time turned his body to face them. “Clare, I want to apologize for harming you. It was never my intention, and I deeply regret my actions.”

The examiner seemed pleased with Creighton’s apology, but Rory had to will himself not to run across the room and punch Creighton in the face.

Just before Creighton turned back to face the examiner, a sly smile lifted at the corner of his lips. Clare’s back went rigid beside Rory. Regret, my ass. Smug son of a bitch knew exactly what he was doing.

“Thank you, Mr. Creighton. You may be seated.” The examiner slid a few papers around on his desk before turning towards Clare. “Ma’am, you’d like to make a statement today?”

Clare stood, smoothing out her skirt. “I would, yes, sir.”

“Please state your name and then give your statement. Just a reminder, this is all being recorded and can be used in further appeals at any time.”

She nodded. “I understand.”

“You may begin.”

Clare tilted her chin up, never once turning to look at Creighton. “My name is Clare Kavanagh, formerly Clare Ivers. I was in a relationship with Travis Creighton for almost five years before I left and moved across the country to get away from him. Despite my best efforts to avoid being found, Travis not only found me, but attacked me, my now husband, and our dog. However, it isn’t that night alone that is why I think Travis should not be granted parole. It’s every day for the five years leading up to that moment. I lived in fear under his unforgiving temper, and even after my escape, I was haunted by the mere thought of him finding me. He manipulated everyone he ever came across—whether through bribes, blackmail, or this fake charm he’s using today. Travis is who anyone wants him to be, but it’s all with his own benefit in mind. If you allow this man to walk free, people will be hurt.” Clare paused, taking a deep breath. “He’ll never hurt me again, whether he’s free or behind bars. I’m completely confident of that because of the support system I’ve found.”

Rory’s heart warmed, a smile spreading over his face. Damn, he was proud of his wife. She was a fucking bad ass, and he was loving every second of her confidence.

“But just because I am safe from him, doesn’t mean the rest of the world is. For his sake, and our sake, keep Travis behind bars where he can’t hurt anyone else.”

Clare sat back down, and Rory almost missed the tremble in her hands as she folded them in her lap. Glancing past her, Creighton fumed from his chair, nostrils flared.

“Thank you, Mrs. Kavanagh,” the examiner replied. “I commend you for making the trip out here to give your statement. It’s very brave, and will certainly be weighted heavily into my decision.”

She smiled, and Rory wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

Fuck yes, my wife’s brave. He leaned in, his lips close to her ear. “You killed it, babe.”

The examiner cleared his throat and moved his papers into a single stack. “After hearing the statements given forth today, and reviewing the recommendations provided by the judge and district attorney, I feel confident in my decision today." He turned to stare directly at Creighton. "I was fairly confident coming into this hearing what my decision would be, but I always hope I'll hear something that might make the decision crystal clear and I believe I did today.”

Creighton smiled. Rory’s stomach rolled.

"Mr. Creighton, the number of charges you were convicted of is damning, and all recommendations were for the maximum sentence. After hearing this young woman's testimony today, and her strength to come all the way across the country to not just protect herself, but anyone else you may have come into contact with, the decision is crystal clear.” The examiner leaned back in his seat, a satisfied look on his face. “I am not going to grant your request for parole today. In fact, I don’t think I would grant it if you’d been in jail for twenty years. Officer, please take Mr. Creighton back to holding.”

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Creighton jumped to his feet but was immediately grabbed by two guards who placed him back in handcuffs. He continued to seethe as they escorted him past them and out of the room. “This is a fucking joke. You bitch. You’re never going to forget me, Clare. I’ll be in your fucking dreams.”

Clare scoffed, shaking her head. “More like nightmares.”