“And you know,” Slate said slowly, “you can’t keep him once this ends.”
“I know,” I said.
That part sat heavy.
“Because if you do,” Grim added, “Rowan won’t stop.”
“I know.”
“And if you don’t,” Fuse said quietly?—
I didn’t answer.
Because there wasn’t a clean answer.
Wraith broke the tension. “So what’s the plan, Lock?”
I straightened. “We wait.”
“For how long?” Slate asked.
“Until Rowan makes his next move,” I said. “And he will.”
Silence again. This one felt settled.
They trusted me. Not blindly. That was why it worked.
Grim nodded once and stepped back toward the door.
Fuse inclined his head.
Slate crossed his arms but didn’t argue.
Wraith lingered a second longer. “You sure about this?”
I didn’t look away. “No.”
That earned me a small nod.
When they filed out, I stayed where I was, staring at the empty chair Saint should’ve been sitting in.
This had started for him.
That part hadn’t changed.
Kellan hadn’t been part of the plan. He was Rowan Roe’s son. Leverage. A means to an end. He was here because his father had crossed a line—not because he belonged under my roof.
That was the truth. It always had been.
This was temporary. It had to be.
I wasn’t supposed to keep him.
The thought landed harder than it should have.
I closed my eyes briefly and exhaled through my nose. There were no easy options here. There never were. You chose the move that did the least damage and lived with it.
There was no version of this where someone didn’t get hurt.
