Life still moved through the space.Men talked near the bar.Someone barked at a kid to stop running with crayons.Bacon sizzled on the stove.Coffee filled the air with a scent that should have meant normal, but everything had an edge now, like the whole building listened for the next shoe to drop.
Casey and Marci were both in the kitchen already.Marci spotted me and called out, “Morning.You appear less truck-smashed today.”
I slid into a chair at the corner of the massive table.I traced one of the gouges with my fingers while I searched for something solid to anchor me.“Half a truck ran me over instead of the whole fleet.Progress counts, right?”
Kane moved past to grab a mug.His hand brushed my lower back as he passed, casual and automatic.The touch grounded me when nothing else could.My body recognized him as safety incarnate, his presence more real than my nightmares.
Casey dropped a plate in front of me.Eggs, bacon, toast.No questions.
“Eat,” she ordered.“I don’t want you passing out on Spade and giving him an excuse to whine.”
“He whines anyway,” I muttered.
Her grin flashed.“True.”
I started in on the eggs, savoring the taste.Across the room, two guys lingered near a doorway, talking low.I hadn’t learned their names yet.I recognized their cuts, their faces, how they stood with ownership of the space.The pair existed somewhere between inner circle and Prospect status -- men who’d been around long enough to believe their opinions deserved oxygen.
Their voices dipped, though not enough.
“… locked down for one girl,” the shorter one muttered.“Seems overkill.”
My fork froze halfway to my mouth.
“Prez says nobody leaves alone,” his buddy answered.“You want to argue with him?Go ahead.”
“Kids climb the walls,” the first continued, frustration sharpening his tone.“Old ladies snap at everyone.We run groceries in teams as though war broke out.For what?A waitress who pissed off the wrong men?”
Heat crawled up my neck.My stomach twisted so hard the bacon turned to ash on my tongue.
The second guy shifted, tone harder.“Shut it.You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
The first guy’s voice scraped against my ears.“Diaz never gave a damn about us before she appeared.Now a cartel mess sits on our doorstep.We became shields for someone who didn’t exist to us a month ago.”
My knuckles turned white around the fork.Shame burned through me, hot and immediate.Guilt followed close behind.Part of me wanted to offer myself as a sacrifice so others could breathe easier.But I knew Kane wouldn’t want that.
Kane’s hand covered my thigh under the table, fingers tightening.His voice stayed low, right beside me.“Hey.”
I stared at my plate like the eggs could solve this.“Don’t.It’s… fine.”
His gaze tracked toward the doorway.I felt the exact moment he decided to stand up and go handle it.Violence wasn’t the first tool in his belt, but it lived close enough to be reached fast.
I caught his wrist under the table.“Please.”
His jaw flexed.“Jade --”
“They’re not wrong.”The words hurt coming out, but they were true enough to slice.“I walked in here with a storm behind me and parked it on your lawn.You all chose to let me stay.He gets to feel some kind of way about it.”
Kane’s voice stayed controlled, though an edge sharpened beneath.“Running his mouth where you can hear crosses a line.We don’t accept such behavior.”
Marci materialized at Kane’s shoulder and smacked the back of his head.The blow landed somewhere between gentle and stern -- a correction, nothing more.
“Sit down,” she ordered.
Kane glared up.“Did you hear --”
“I heard everything.”Marci’s eyes flashed with warning.“General caught every word too.He’s already addressing the situation.”
My gaze followed hers across the room.General now stood by the doorway, his massive frame blocking any exit.One hand rested on the doorframe.Calm radiated from his stance instead of anger, which made him infinitely more intimidating.
