“Uh huh.”
We finished our meal in silence, the way men do when there’s actual business to be handled. The auction barn outside was already starting to fill. I could see the new crop of buyers through the window, city cowboys in pressed shirts and polished boots, trying to look like they belonged. They didn’t. You can’t buy the kind of ugly it takes to work cattle for thirty years.
“Cattle made the trip okay,” I finally said, breaking the silence. “None got antsy, none jumped. That’s a first.”
Arsenal set down his fork and wiped his mouth. “Means you did your job.” Then, softer: “Or you’re distracted enough you didn’t care enough to notice.”
I grunted. “I got this.”
He leaned back, arms crossed, assessing. “I’m not the one you have to convince.”
“You gonna bring it up or just stare holes through my skull?” I asked, but I already knew. He was going to make me say it.
He waited a second, then nodded toward the window, like he didn’t want to embarrass me in public. “You hear from her?”
I let a grin slip. Couldn’t help it. “She’s fine.”
Arsenal smiled, small and private, then shook his head. “You ever gonna admit you like her?”
I stabbed a last chunk of steak. “I admitted it to myself. That’s enough.”
“Not for her, probably,” he said. “Some women like to hear it.” He poured more coffee, watching the stream. “You know, you don’t have to fight everything that feels good. Even Big Papa lets himself have a donut now and then.”
I scoffed. “That’s not the same. He’s got Jesus. I got an art major with unresolved trauma and a renegade heart.”
Arsenal’s brow furrowed. “You saying you’d rather have Jesus?”
I looked at my hands. “I’m saying I don’t know what to do with her.”
He waited, patient as death. Then: “You don’t have to know. You just have to not fuck it up.”
I barked a laugh. “Well, shit. Why didn’t anyone tell me sooner?”
He let that hang, taking another bite of omelet.
The door slammed behind us, and a knot of buyers came in, loud and obnoxious. The noise level spiked, and for a while, all you could do waslisten to the clatter of plates and the auctioneer’s early-morning warmups rolling through the open windows. It was almost peaceful if you liked chaos.
I ate until I couldn’t, then sat back, letting the fullness settle in.
“You ever wonder why we haven’t heard from Maltraz?” I asked, voice low.
Arsenal’s face went flat. “Every day.”
“It’s not right,” I said, pushing my plate away. “That demon bastard doesn’t go silent unless he’s plotting.”
Arsenal nodded, gaze flicking to every face in the diner. “He’s not the type to just walk away after we humiliated him. He’ll wait, then he’ll hit back.”
“We need to talk to Bronc,” I said. “Soon as we get back.”
“Agreed,” Arsenal said, eyes never stopping. “You think he’s coming after the pack, or after Brie?”
“Both, if he can manage it. But I bet he comes for the weakest link first.”
Arsenal set his cup down, then leaned in, elbows on the table. “That puts you in the crosshairs, buddy.”
I wanted to argue, but he wasn’t wrong.
I rolled my shoulders, trying to shake it off. “I’ll be ready.”
