Viper found himself enchanted. “Mostly barn dances and fist fights.”
“No way.” Titus laughed—full and warm—the sound filling the kitchen, breaking something open in Viper’s chest.
He watched the laugh fade into something softer on Titus’s face, a quiet, unguarded flicker.
“I’m serious,” he said, smiling despite himself. “It has to be experienced to be believed. I’ll take you sometime.”
Titus’s gaze snapped to him—open, honest in a way he didn’t seem to realize. “I’ll hold you to that.”
Before Viper could reply, Titus reached out—casual, unthinking—and slid the coffee closer to him.
A tiny gesture.
Nothing.
Everything.
Warmth slid through his ribs, settling deep as he lifted the cup and took a sip.
Christ, this man was going to undo him.
A soft chime sounded—impossible to ignore. It broke the moment between them.
Titus stiffened, hand sliding toward the Ruger on the counter.
Viper felt the air change, pressure tightening along his spine as his Sig came free in a quiet, familiar draw.
Titus crossed to the foyer, checked the peephole—then groaned under his breath.
“What?” Viper asked, though he already had a pretty good guess.
The door swung open.
Law stood in the hall. Sage beside him. And behind them—Memphis, Syx, and Vale—clustered together like they’d been mid-disagreement before ringing the bell.
Sage breezed in without waiting, tablet under one arm, laptop in the other, curls falling forward like this was exactly the outcome he’d predicted.
“I told you,” Sage said, smug, cutting through what hadalmostbeen a calm morning. “They weren’t far away.”
Titus opened his mouth, then shut it again, eyes widening a fraction as he went still. Realization hit—bare chest, rumpled hair, loose slacks hanging low on his hips. His shoulders snapped back, like he could will a shirt onto his body through sheer force.
Amusement flickered in Viper’s eyes, but he held back a smile.
Memphis stepped inside, eyes sweeping the kitchen, then the distance between the two of them, cataloguing every detail like evidence.
“Viper,” he said slowly, sounding almost impressed.
Law stepped in behind Sage, silent as ever. His gaze slid to the two coffee mugs on the island, the half-eaten food, then to the tense, small space between Viper and Titus—taking in everything in a single, precise sweep.
Syx huffed out a breath. “Well… damn.”
Vale didn’t say a word. He just lifted a brow—an entire assessment embedded in the smallest motion.
Breath hissed out of Titus, the kind reserved for someone choosing between homicide and exile.
Sage, unfazed, was already setting up his laptop on the island. “We’ve got intel.”
“Wait for me,” Titus said, stalking down the hallway. A moment later, he reappeared, tugging a black T-shirt over his head.
