I flexed my fingers slowly, pain blooming.
“Wrap them,” Fuse said.
I walked over and held out my hands without arguing.
Fuse wrapped them tight, efficient, like he’d done it a hundred times.
While he worked, he said, “That kid bakes.”
I didn’t respond.
Fuse’s mouth twitched like he knew he’d hit something. “Smells good. Makes the place feel… different.”
I stared at him. “What are you doing?”
Fuse shrugged. “Not much. Just noticing.”
I waited.
He finished the wrap and leaned back. “You gonna keep him?”
“I’m gonna keep him alive,” I said.
Fuse’s brow went up like really?
Then he added, “You sure about that?”
My chest tightened.
Fuse stood. “Men are talking.”
“I don’t care.”
“You should,” he said calmly. “Not because they judge you. Because they’ll act off what they think they know.”
That was true.
Being the Prez meant I had to have my shit together even when I didn’t.
I left the training space and headed back inside.
The compound was fully awake now.
Men moving. Doors opening and shutting. The smell of coffee in the air. The low hum of routine.
And somewhere in it, there was Kellan.
In my shirt.
In my bed.
In my life.
I found Ember in the kitchen, wiping down the counters like she was trying to scrub away the entire situation.
She glanced up when I walked in, her eyes narrowing.
“Finally,” she said.
