My hand smoothed over his chest when I stepped closer, feeling hard armor beneath fabric.The touch served as memorization rather than seduction, preserving him against my mind’s tendency to transform people into ghosts.
“You sure about this?”I asked.
“Yeah.”His hand covered mine.“You?”
“No.”I met his eyes anyway.“But I trust you.”
He dipped his head and kissed me once, quick and fierce, like he was sealing a promise into my skin.“Lockdown,” he warned.“You don’t go outside.Phone on you.Gun closer.”
“Yes, sir.”I tried to sound teasing, but it came out thin.
His eyes hardened.“I’m serious.”
“So am I.”I forced my voice to grow steady.“I’m not handing you a reason to worry when you already have Roth on your plate.”
He searched my face for a second, then nodded when he found whatever answer he sought.
Atilla called everyone to move out.Engines rumbled to life outside -- a sound normally powerful and familiar around the compound, but tonight the noise carried teeth.The gate rolled open, closed behind them with aclang.I watched Kane’s taillights shrink to red pinpricks, then vanish down the road.Silence fell heavy across the compound, making everything seem huge and hollow, as though someone had yanked away a crucial support beam beneath us all.
“Okay,” Casey announced briskly, clapping her hands once.“You heard the man.We’re not sitting here staring at the walls.”
Kids peeked out from the TV room, eyes wide.They didn’t know details, but they read the room the way animals did.Fear changed how adults moved, even when adults tried to fake normal.
Marci locked the front door, then checked the bar on the back entrance.Two Prospects took positions near windows, guns within reach but not in hand yet.Solena disappeared toward the med room to recheck kits, because she coped by preparing.
My phone buzzed.
A text from Spade:convoy clear.On route.25 minutes out.
My heart kicked.I shoved the phone into my pocket like staring at it too long would invite disaster.
“Jade?”Casey’s voice softened.“You with me?”
I forced my eyes up.“I’m here.”
“Good.”She moved closer, lowering her voice.“Back half of the kids if we have to move.Same as drills.You ready?”
“As I’ll ever be.”
Waiting always felt like the cruelest part of fear.Action had rules.Waiting had imagination.
Minutes dragged.Every clink of a mug sounded too loud.Every creak of the floorboards made my muscles tighten.The kids stayed closer than normal, less running, more hovering near knees.
I knelt beside Casey’s kids and Solena’s girl, opening a box of crayons between us.The dragon on their page needed color.
“Purple,” Maui’s son insisted, pushing a crayon into my palm.
“No, green,” argued Solena’s daughter, shoving another into my other hand.
My mouth formed words about stars and stickers and cookies while my mind pictured hooded men aiming rifles through windows.The chatter kept flowing, automatic as breathing.
Casey’s phone buzzed.Mine vibrated against my leg at exactly the same moment.
Spade’s message read:on site.
My stomach twisted into a cold knot.Questions burned in my throat, but I tucked the phone away.Spade would send whatever information mattered when he could.The men needed radio discipline more than I needed comfort.
Minutes ticked by.Ten.Fifteen.Sweat beaded across my neck.
