If Michael Reed is Syndicate leadership … Talon’s already working an angle.
CJ clears his throat, pulling me from the spiral. “We’re about fifteen minutes out,” he says. “You okay back there?”
“Fine,” I lie.
“You’ve been quiet.”
“Thinking.”
“About?”
About which of my lovers is hiding the fact that his father is a monster. About whether trust means anything when we’re all keeping secrets. About how Valen just handed me a grenade and asked me to juggle it.
“Nothing important,” I say, but he doesn’t believe me. I can see it in the tension of his shoulders, the way his eyes flick to the rearview mirror. But he doesn’t push, and I’m grateful.
A few minutes later, we’re back at the safe house. CJ pulls Talon’s SUV into the garage and we both get out.
Inside, I strip off my coat and boots in the mudroom. The cold still clings to my hair as I shake it loose. CJ steps in behind me just long enough to tug off his gloves.
“In one piece,” he mutters, more to himself than anyone else.
The kitchen light spills warm and bright as we step through the hallway and into the kitchen. The island is cluttered withopen pizza boxes, the contents steaming, wings piled high in foil, and bottles of beer sweating rings onto the granite.
Dredyn leans against the counter, massive arms crossed, a half-eaten slice dangling from his fingers. Grease shines on his bottom lip, but his dark eyes lock on me the second I appear.
“There she is,” he rumbles. “Thought Valen might’ve kept you longer. Food’s getting cold, Hellcat.”
CJ lifts two fingers in a casual salute their way. “I’ll clear out. Text if you need me.”
He doesn’t wait for permission or a thank you, just grabs his keys, the front door opening and closing a minute later. Somewhere outside, his engine turns over and fades into the storm.
We’re alone, again.
“He couldn’t wait,”Jasper signs as he hands me a beer straight from the fridge.
“Sit,” Talon says, already pulling out the barstool beside his. His tone is light, but his hand stays on the back of the chair until I take it. “Eat. Then we can talk.”
Jasper sets a fresh plate in front of the stool.
I slide onto a stool beside Talon, hips brushing, and shove a slice of Harry’s pizza in my mouth.
“At least this isn’t your attempt at cooking,” I mutter to Dredyn.
He barks a laugh, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Picky as fuck. You’re the one who can’t boil water without committing arson, babe.”
Talon chuckles low. “Yeah, Princess. Last time, the house smelled like smoke for days.”
Jasper signs without looking up. “Pasta glue.”
I flip them off, laughing, despite myself. “Assholes. All of you.”
But the laugh dies on my tongue and is replaced by dread.
One of their fathers.
Dredyn leans against the counter. “So, Hellcat, what’d the pretty boy say?”
I chew slowly, buying seconds, cheese stretching in strings. “Nothing,” I lie, my tone flat. “Just old shit.”
