Gideon checks the deadbolt. “We stay inside and act normal. If Abi calls, we answer. If your dad calls, Penelope, you answer and keep your cool.”
Minxy peers between us. “Are we safe?”
I move closer until my thigh touches her shin. “Yes,” I say. “You’re safe here.”
Silas adjusts his stance, muscles coiled tight again.
“Tonight we lay low,” he states. “Tomorrow we decide what comes next.”
Gideon nods once. “No one leaves. Not until we know how hard Abi’s pushing.”
Talon slides down beside Minxy, shoulder pressed to hers again. And in that room—with every lock secured, every window checked, every breath measured—I understand something with absolute clarity:
We didn’t just rescue Minxy.
We lit a fuse.
And Abi just smelled the smoke.
My stomach growls so loudly Talon glances over.
Minxy lifts her head. “When’s dinner?”
The question is small and hoarse, but it’s the first non-trauma sentence she’s offered since we left the clinic.
“I can make something,” I start, pushing myself up.
“No,” Gideon says. “You don’t need to do that tonight. We’re ordering.”
“Chinese?” Minxy asks, voice wavering but hopeful.
Talon rubs her shoulder. “You want Chinese?”
She nods. “Mom always said it was junk and wouldn’t let us.”
Silas snorts. “Then we’re definitely getting Chinese.”
“Agreed,” Gideon says, already pulling out his phone. “What do you want, Minx?”
Her brows pinch. “All of it?”
Talon laughs softly. “Narrow it down.”
“I want sweet and sour chicken,” she says. “And rice. And crab rangoon. And dumplings. And those little donut things.”
Gideon’s mouth twitches. “You’re my kind of girl.”
She lifts her chin at him, testing how far she can go. “I’m not a girl. I’m a teenager.”
“Same energy,” he says dryly.
Her lips curve. It’s tiny but real.
I sit beside her. “You can have everything you want.”
She nods, then glances up at Talon like she’s checking to see if she’s allowed joy.
He tucks a piece of hair behind her ear. “You deserve a feast.”
