“At our age, that’s practically a victory,” Law smirked.
He huffed out a short laugh, and Law just grinned at him before heading off, boots whispering over the cracked concrete. The quiet settled in again.
He made the last turn and scanned the stretch of desert beyond the cul-de-sac. The quiet felt heavier now, pressing in against the hum in his ears.
Early light cut thin through the window glass. The air smelled like coffee and fried bacon—normal, almost. The kind of quiet that didn’t belong to men like them.
At the table, Titus worked through half a plate of bacon and eggs, coffee cooling at his elbow. Steam lifted from the skillet Memphis had left cooling on the stove; he had to admit it wasn’tbad. Across from him, Phoenix shoveled food like the world might end in seconds, talking just enough to be irritating.
“Next time,” Phoenix said between bites, “maybe try flirting with your words.”
Titus didn’t even glance up. “Careful, Knight. People might think you’re interested.”
Memphis snorted into his coffee. “Told you to leave it alone.”
Phoenix grinned, unbothered. “What? I’m just saying—some of us prefer conversation to blunt force trauma.”
“Some of us prefer you shut up while we eat,” Titus muttered.
Memphis pushed his plate back, a smirk hiding behind the rim of his mug. “You two are gonna make me regret cooking.”
A chair scraped against the floor as Phoenix stood, laughing. He grabbed his mug and looped around the island toward the exit. “Worth it.”
Catching sight of Viper near the entry, Phoenix flashed a grin. “Oh—hello, Boss.”
Titus flicked his gaze up and wondered how long Viper had been standing there.
Phoenix’s footsteps faded down the hall, leaving the sound of ticking metal and distant wind through the vent. The kind of silence that made every small sound count.
The warrior stepped further into the room, calm as ever, taking up space. Titus didn’t pause—he had finished breakfast in worse company.
A chair scraped behind him as Memphis stood and carried his empty plate to the sink.
Without missing a beat, Viper nodded once and crossed to the counter, pouring coffee in a motion too deliberate to be casual. The sound grated—steady, unhurried, self-assured. The coffee streamed dark into the mug, steam curling toward the light.
Titus cut another bite and chewed slowly. If the man wanted to act like he didn’t exist, fine. He wasn’t handing him attention he didn’t deserve.
Memphis placed his plate on the drying rack, shot Titus a look that said I’m not touching this, and slipped out the door.
The quiet that followed wasn’t awkward, but it was tense—two generals sharing command of the same ground.
He’d never answered to anyone. In the Army, he’d given orders, not taken them. And after the military, he’d run his own outfit for years while hunting his brothers. So, if Viper thought he could pull rank, he could think again.
A pop of tension ran up his neck as he finished the last of the bacon and pushed his plate away—no way was this guy interrupting his morning.
Viper leaned against the counter, arms folded, mug in hand. Titus stood and carried his plate to the sink, passing close. Not intentional. Not avoidant. Just moving through his own damn space.
Setting the plate in the sink, he turned and finally met Viper’s eyes. Nothing said. Nothing needed.
Memphis stepped back into the doorway. “I’m going to make the rounds…”
“All right,” Titus said, as if Memphis answered to him.
Viper squinted, holding Titus’s stare.
Something flickered in those pale gray eyes—annoyance, maybe. Titus didn’t care.
Memphis’s footsteps faded down the hall.
