"If the shoe fits, I'll shove it so far up your ass, it comes out laced," I growl, the pain in my shoulder drowned under the new surge of adrenaline.
Jace doesn't flinch. "Pretty sure you're not in shape to shoveanythinganywhere, vampire."
Donna cuts in before this devolves into blood on the carpet. She walks into the center of the room, hands raised like the least patient peacekeeper alive.
"All right. Maybe we can cool it on theshoving things up people's assestalk," she says dryly. "We've got bigger problems."
Astrid mutters under her breath, "I kind of wanted to see how that played out," while Sage looks visibly distressed, shoulders tight, gaze darting between us like she's watching a car crash with her name on the license plate.
This is costing her. That look is the reminder that all of this spins around her. It's her past, her choices that led the storm here.
Time to shift gears. For her, if nothing else.
"Fine," I say, sighing. "What's the plan, then?"
"We fortify," Asher says. "Prepare. Monitor the situation."
His tone's back to field-leader mode.
"Tomas," he continues, "clear the perimeter. Secure all points of entry. Bar the windows. You know the drill. Astrid, assist him."
The two are moving before he finishes.
"Sage, Eira, Donna, rest if you need. Then I want you back on the books. Every lead, every advantage we can find. We need it all."
They nod, gathering tomes without a word.
"You're with them," he tells me.
I narrow my eyes, but Asher's already moving on, issuing final orders like he's back on the battlefield.
"Winston, Jace, I need you both. We're going to scout. See what Darius is planning. You two can shift, get closer without drawing heat. Move when you're ready."
"Ready now, Colonel," Winston says, rising with that old school gravitas. Jace stands too, nodding sharply.
"I'm coming with," I say, draining the last of my fourth glass and setting it down with a hardclack.
"You're not," Asher says flatly.
I blink. "Excuse me?"
"You've done enough, Kayden." His voice is cold with disappointment. "That reckless stunt of yours forced a confrontation we might've avoided."
There it is. My fault. Always my fucking fault.
"I helped us show them we're not prey," I growl, stepping closer. "That we're not some trash the big man can crush under his designer boots."
His jaw clenches. Mine does, too.
"And in case you missed it, he had his hands on her. Ourwife. And you think I'm just supposed to watch? Smile politely while he claims what's ours?"
What I don't say is that she didn't move, just stood there. And I can't tell if she was stunned or… something worse.
"Yes, Idoexpect you to control yourself. For our safety. Forhers," Asher says, ice in every syllable.
The tension crackles like fire about to leap. And then her soft, frayed voice comes from the kitchen doorway. "Please… stop fighting."
One line and it knocks the air out of both of us.
