Adrian looked toward the waiting cars. “Which one?”

“Neither.” She nodded toward the sidewalk. “It’s only six blocks.”

They stepped into the cool evening together. Adrian didn’t walk ahead to clear the path. He didn’t trail behind awaiting instructions. He walked beside her.

And for the first time since the twelve black Rolls-Royces carried Lena away, neither of them needed an empire, a convoy, or a crisis to explain what that meant.

THE END.