“I’m not blind, Jace.” His voice is quiet, pitched so only we can hear. “I see how you look at her. How she looks at you. All three of you.” He pauses. “And I see how you are with those boys. Like they’re already yours.”
None of us speak.
“I’m just saying,” Charles continues, “if things were to develop in that direction — hypothetically — you’d have my support. Better you three, who actually care about her and would protect her and those boys with your lives, than some entitled asshole who thinks she’s a strategic alliance.”
“We—” Cal starts, but Charles holds up a hand.
“You don’t have to confirm or deny anything. I’m just telling you where I stand. The rest is between you and Parker.” He turns to face us fully. “But those boys deserve fathers who will love them. And Parker deserves partners who will treat her like an equal instead of a pawn. Just... keep that in mind.”
Before any of us can respond, all four of our phones buzz simultaneously.
I grab mine, seeing the alert from our security system.
THREAT DETECTED - MULTIPLE HOSTILES - PARK PERIMETER
“Fuck,” Charles breathes, his expression going hard.
Silas is already moving, his hand going to the weapon concealed at his back. “How many?”
I’m pulling up the security feed on my phone, my tactical brain already cataloging exits, cover positions, evacuation routes. “At least six. Armed. Approaching from the east and north perimeters.”
“Get the kids,” Jace orders, his voice sharp and commanding.
But we’re too late.
The first shot cracks through the air—a sharppopthat echoes across the park.
Parker’s head snaps up, her eyes wide, already grabbing Lottie and dropping to the ground.
Sienna screams, diving for Jimmy.
The boys freeze, confused, not understanding what’s happening.
And then all hell breaks loose.
Bullets spray across the diamond, kicking up dirt, shattering the wooden bench, tearing through the chain-link fence behind home plate.
“DOWN!” I roar, running toward the kids.
Noah and Liam are still standing, paralyzed with fear.
I reach them in seconds, grabbing both boys and throwing myself over them, using my body as a shield as more shots ring out. We hit the ground hard, and I feel the impact of bullets hitting the dirt inches from where we landed.
Silas has reached Parker and Lottie, covering them with his body.
Cal is with Sienna and Jimmy, pulling them toward cover behind the dugout.
Charles has his weapon drawn, returning fire toward the tree line where muzzle flashes are lighting up the shadows.
Security is rushing from the parking lot—our guys, the ones who tail us everywhere we go, the protection Charles insists on. They engage the hostiles, bullets flying in both directions.
Under me, Noah is crying. Liam is shaking.
“It’s okay,” I tell them, my voice steady despite the chaos. “I’ve got you. You’re safe. I’ve got you.”
More gunfire. Screaming. The sound of car alarms going off in the parking lot.
Then, as suddenly as it started, it stops.
