What happens if his little body collapses at the wrong moment?
What happens if Cortéz gets lucky?
What happens if…
“Skip.”
Maverick’s voice slices through the panic.
His voice is calm. Controlled. Solid.
Everything I sure as hellam notright now.
“Get control of yourself, brother,” he orders.
“I’m freaking the fuck out,” I snap back, too wound up to soften it. “That man can’t handle stress. Like…literally…cannot fucking handle it. What the hell was I thinking bringing him here, knowing the shit we’re in the middle of?”
Maverick doesn’t flinch.
“According to Spike,” he says, “your boy wasn’t doing much better on his own. In fact, he was doing a hell of a lot worse than he is right now.”
He lets that settle before continuing.
“Eli wasn’t living, Skip. He was surviving. Barely. You didn’t drag him into danger. Life did that all on its own. At least now he has people who would die before letting harm touch him. People who will surround him if he has an episode until he’s awake again.”
I drag a hand down my face.
Yeah. He’s right. I know he’s right.
But knowing doesn’t stop the fear from clawing inside my ribs.
Maverick hesitates for the first time since I’ve met him. Just a flicker. Barely noticeable.
“But,” he adds quietly, “just to throw this out there… if you want, I can set him up with a new ID and a place to stay in Ohio. I have family out there. Not much, but enough to keep an eye on him.”
My blood freezes.
Ohio.
A new identity.
A place to “stay.”
Far from me.
Far from the Shadows.
Far from everything that’s mine.
It feels like Maverick just handed me a gun and asked if I want to shoot myself in the chest.
My jaw clenches so hard it cracks.
“Absolutely fucking not.”
Maverick lifts one brow, but he doesn’t challenge me.
He doesn’t need to. I’m spiraling loud enough for the whole damn Valley to hear.
