Hope chokes again and buries her face in her hands, half-laughing, half-mortified.
Knox cuts in, his voice a surprise because he’s actually laughing too. “Jax, if you keep talking, she’s going to stab you with those chopsticks.” He leans back, catches Hope’s eye, and for once his smile doesn’t look like something hurting inside him. “Ignore him. He was raised in a barn.”
“I was… wait, actually, pretty close to a barn.” Jax grins, nuzzles Hope’s arm, and then flicks a piece of rice at me. “So what is it, Hope? You want all of us in bed? Or like, just to have bodyguards?”
“Neither,” she says, but it’s a weak protest. “I want sleep. Real, actual, non-nightmare sleep.”
Jax shrugs like that’s the most reasonable thing in the world.
Knox says, “We can do that.” Not a question. “I’ll take the left side. Dimitri, you in or out?”
I shrug. “In if she wants.”
We all stare at Hope, knowing that we’re pushing this. But we all need a distraction from what’s to come.
Hope makes a weird, strangled sound. “Why does it feel like you’re all about to hunt and eat me alive?”
Jax grins, eyes full of mischief. “Because we are, baby. You’re the little wounded gazelle.”
Hope throws her chopsticks at him. He lets the hit land, then bows low as if it’s the highest honor to be attacked by her.
I lean in, closer than I probably should, and murmur, “You okay with this, really?”
She looks at me, and her expression is so raw I almost look away. “Nothing’s okay. But… I don’t want to be alone. Just don’t… I don’t…”
“You’re safe,” I whisper.
“Fine,” she says with a weak smile.
Knox is the one who smirks first, but I know he’s buzzing inside.
He tosses his empty beer can in the bin with a little too much force, then wipes his hands on a napkin, not looking at anyone.
I watch Jax. He waits until Hope finishes her plate, then grins over at me.
He knows her better than anyone, probably better than I ever could. I think it should bother me, but it doesn’t. It’s a relief.
Knox pulls out his phone, fiddles with it like he’s waiting on a text, but really he’s just distracting himself so none of us make it weird and there’s no added pressure.
This is what we’ve become: three busted assholes and one broken girl, eating rotisserie chicken and watchingFriendsreruns, pretending there’s a future for any of us. But I’ll take it.
We all do our best to act like the news we saw earlier isn’t replaying in our heads, that the “urgent tip line” isn’t going to lead right to our doorstep.
My phone buzzes in my pocket and I take a quick peek. My throat dries instantly as I see my dad’s name filling the screen.
Shit.
My eyes find Knox’s, and he looks at me like he already knows who’s calling. Will this be a warning call? No. He doesn’t care enough to warn us.
I don’t answer right away. Instead, I glance at Hope, the one we failed to protect. But we won’t fail again. Jax is watching her too, jaw tight, his knee bouncing.
The phone vibrates again. I stand up, walk to the kitchen, and answer.
“Dimitri.” My father’s voice is low, almost tired.
That’s how I know it’s bad. He’s never tired. He operates in one gear—authoritarian police chief, king of the fucking mountain—and if he sounds tired, it means something is about to cave in. We know he’s the one that can put the pieces together, who can lock us all away.
“What is it?” I whisper, voice tight.
