The two men stiffened.General spoke to them without raising his voice.I couldn’t hear the words over the clink of plates and the low rumble of the room, but I saw the effect.One of them swallowed hard.The other nodded too fast.The guy who’d been complaining glanced toward me, shame flickering across his face.He shifted like he meant to walk over.General’s hand landed on his shoulder, steering him away toward the back hall.Firm.Final.Like a father dragging a kid out of a store before the kid embarrassed himself worse.
Marci leaned closer to me.“Handled.”
“I don’t want anyone getting in trouble because of me.”
Marci’s tone remained firm without softening.“They got in trouble for breaking code.We never talk about people as expendable background characters.Not old ladies.Not kids.Not guests.”
Her words slammed into me harder than any complaint ever could.Marci believed what she said.She meant every syllable.The club operated under clear rules, and apparently one stood above many others: human beings deserved respect, not objectification.
Kane’s voice threaded in, quiet and stubborn.“It’s our mess.”
I wanted to believe him so badly my chest hurt.
Casey called from the kitchen doorway.“Spade’s ready for you.He’s got more of Jason’s chicken scratch and he’s vibrating about it.”
“Chicken scratch is generous,” I muttered, pushing my plate away.I’d eaten enough to stop the hollow ache in my stomach.The rest of me still felt raw.
Kane rose with me.“I’ll walk you.”
“I don’t need an escort across the building.”
“Maybe I want to,” he shot back, and the way he looked at me left no room for argument.So I let him.
* * *
I’d been helping Spade for a while, doing what little I could.It felt like we weren’t getting anywhere fast, even though I knew we’d made progress.
The door opened.Kane leaned in.“You two still alive?”
“Barely.”Spade waved a hand toward me.“She’s tapped.I’m not scraping her off the floor.”
Kane’s gaze traveled across my face, lingering on the redness rimming my eyes and the tightness in my jaw.He remained silent, stepping forward with his hand extended between us -- a wordless question I could answer or ignore.
“Come on,” he murmured.“I’m stealing you.”
Spade pointed at Kane without looking away from his screen.“Take her.Bring her back later if her brain still works.Also bring me coffee.”
“Addict,” I muttered as Kane guided me out.
“Pot, kettle,” Spade shot back.
Kane’s hand settled on the small of my back in the hall, warm and steady.“You okay?”
I didn’t pretend anymore.“I feel like someone wrung me out and hung me up to dry.”
“Range?”Kane asked.“Couch?Bed?”
“Are those my only options?”
“Pretty much.”His mouth twitched.“Food is in there too, but you actually ate.”
“Range.”
Kane’s eyes warmed, pride flashing for a split second.“That’s my girl.”
* * *
The range behind the shop looked the same as it always had -- berm, targets, tables, a few brass casings glinting in the dirt where someone had missed cleaning up.The normalcy of it helped.Familiar space.Familiar rules.
