But his jaw is locked. His hands still fisted.
Human earthquake, barely contained.
“She dug her nail into my wrist,” Noah continues. Quieter now.
Callum’s voice is flat. Cold. “What else?”
“She threatened him. With immigration,” Noah says. “That’s what Vitaly told me after she left.”
Juliet tilts her head. “He told you?”
Noah nods.
“And he told me,” Noah says. “About the fake engagement. About the sponsorship fraud. About how she wants him tolaunder money through the bakery. How if he says no, she reports him. He loses everything.”
“Or worse,” I add.
“Or worse,” Noah echoes.
He looks at Juliet. Eyes pleading.
“He’s not a criminal,” Noah says. Certain. “He’s not doing this willingly. He’s trapped. Scared. He just wanted a quiet life.”
Juliet’s expression softens.
“He said that?” she asks.
Noah nods. “Word for word.”
She exhales.
Then she looks at me.
At Orion.
At Callum.
“He’s sweet,” she says. Quiet. Decided. “And he’s scared. And he’s mine.”
Of course he is.
“Which means he’s ours,” she continues. “And we protect what’s ours.”
Orion cracks his knuckles. “Damn right we do.”
Callum grins. Slow. Sharp. “So what’s the play? I assume it’s not ‘respect the legal process.’”
Juliet looks at me.
I sigh.
Because I know what’s coming.
And I know I can’t stop it.
I am, at best, crisis management for a tiny cult.
“We bring him in,” Juliet says simply.
