"This morning." Something complicated crossed his face. "She wasn't surprised. Said she'd seen it coming since I broke cover. Offered to write me a recommendation if I ever want back in."
"Do you?"
"No." The word was immediate, certain. "I'm done with that life. Whatever comes next, it's not that."
"Any idea what comes next?"
"Maybe." His eyes drifted across the room, landed on something—someone—and lingered. I followed his gaze.
Tank. Standing alone near the wall, nursing a beer, watching the crowd with that stoic expression he always wore. But when he caught Tyler looking, something shifted. The mask slipped, just for a second. Something raw and uncertain flickered underneath.
Tyler looked away first. But he was smiling.
"Interesting," I said.
"Shut up."
"I didn't say anything."
"Your face said plenty." He drained his whiskey, set the glass down. "I'm going to go... mingle."
"Mingle. Sure."
"I hate you."
"You love me. I'm your brother."
He flipped me off without looking back and headed toward Tank's corner of the room. I watched them meet—the careful distance, the awkward first words, then Tank shifting to make room and Tyler settling beside him like he belonged there.
Maybe he did. Maybe they both just needed time to figure that out.
"Matchmaking at your own claiming ceremony?" Axel's arms wrapped around me from behind, his chin hooking over my shoulder. "Bold."
"I'm not matchmaking. I'm observing."
"Observing with intent."
"Maybe." I leaned back into his warmth. "They'd be good together."
"Maybe. Tank's got walls."
"So did you."
"Fair point." He pressed a kiss to my neck. "Think we can escape yet?"
"It's our party."
"Exactly. We can do whatever we want." His voice dropped, low and promising. "And what I want is to get you alone."
Heat curled through me. "That can be arranged."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah." I turned in his arms, looped my hands around his neck. "Take me to bed, husband."
The word slipped out before I could stop it. Axel went still.
"Husband?"
