Love, Eventually

Chapter 8-Trigger Point

It had been a few days since Finnigan had seen Brielle with another man. He hadn't said a word about it. Part of him remembered the time he told her she could see whomever she wanted. And if she chose to keep seeing that man, maybe it wasn't her fault. Maybe it was his.

So, he swallowed it.

Once his sick leave ended, he went back to work and acted like nothing happened. He focused on his cases, took extra shifts, and sometimes didn't come home at all. But every time he closed his eyes, the image of her kissing someone else played like a cruel loop in his mind.

Michael, his best friend, noticed the change. Finnigan had become quieter, more withdrawn-like a man carrying too much weight in silence. Michael wanted to ask, but he knew how Finnigan worked. He didn't open up unless he wanted to. Just like when he first married Brielle-no long talks, no explanations, just a quiet decision made with conviction.

Still, Michael sensed something was wrong. Finnigan never talked about his marriage. Not once. While the rest of their unit boasted about their wives, Finnigan remained quiet, always dodging the subject with a fake excuse or a vague nod. It was unusual, and unsettling.

One afternoon, Finnigan found himself on the rooftop of the precinct, trying to catch his breath. He was working on a case that had started to hit too close to home. A woman murdered by her husband for cheating. Now the man was on the run. And what made it worse? The suspect was reportedly sick-needing urgent medical care. And that care could easily be sought at Brielle's hospital.

Finnigan considered asking her if she'd seen the man, but the thought of facing her again-of seeing her with him-twisted his stomach into knots. He took a deep breath and tried to remind himself: this is work. It had nothing to do with his feelings.

He pulled out his phone and typed a message: "I'm coming to the hospital. Need to ask something."

---

At the hospital, Brielle was tending to a patient when her phone buzzed. She glanced at the message and frowned.

Finnigan?

It had been days since they'd properly spoken. His avoidance hadn't gone unnoticed, and she had quietly wondered if he had figured something out. Her fingers trembled slightly as she texted back: "Okay. Meet me at my office."

---

When Finnigan arrived, he moved quickly through the hospital corridors toward her office. But when he got there, it was empty.

That's when the gunshot rang out.

A loud, echoing crack that jolted everyone into panic.

Without hesitation, Finnigan turned and ran toward the sound. Screams echoed around him, nurses rushing patients to safety, the sterile white walls now a maze of chaos.

He grabbed his phone mid-run. "Michael," he said breathlessly, "get backup to the hospital. Hostage situation, possibly armed suspect on-site."

As he turned a corner, he caught sight of a man holding a woman tightly-one arm around her neck, the other pointing a gun.

Finnigan froze.

It was Brielle.

"Drop the weapon!" he shouted, raising his gun.

The man's eyes darted toward him, wild and desperate. "No! I won't! Everyone's seen my face! They think I'm a monster!" His voice cracked. "I'm not a killer-I didn't want to do it. I just need treatment. I'm sick!"

Finnigan recognized him immediately. The suspect. Ben. The man they'd been searching for.

"Ben," Finnigan said calmly, "I know. I know you're in pain. But this won't end the way you think it will."

Brielle's eyes locked on Finnigan's. There was fear in them-but also trust. That small flicker gave him strength.

"You're sick, and you're scared. But killing someone else won't take it back," Finnigan said. He inched closer. "You've made a mistake. Don't make another one."

Ben's grip on Brielle began to loosen. Slowly, she stepped away from him and darted to Finnigan's side.

"Go," Finnigan whispered.

But she shook her head. "No. I'm not leaving you."

His chest clenched at her words.

He turned back to Ben. "Now hand me the gun. Please. You don't have to do this."

Ben glanced between them-between the woman who had stayed and the man who had come for her. Jealousy, regret, pain-it all flashed across his face in an instant.

Then-

Another gunshot rang out.