Liam set his glass down precisely. “We didn't follow because you asked for a minute. But we noticed." His tone held the line between concern and respect, like he was guarding her space instead of stepping into it.
Killian exhaled once through his nose. "We did a hostile takeover when you wanted a polite resignation." His gaze flicked to April's mouth, checking whether she was about to laugh or break.
Jax lifted a hand, then thought better of it and tried again. "We turned your moment into a group project." He made a pained little face. "Consent isn't optional. Even for chaos."
Excellent with boundaries, her ass.Two for two on steamrolling them while looking vaguely confused about why that kept being a problem.
"Are you okay?" Jiro reached toward her, the gesture half-formed—an offered hug he wasn't sure would be accepted.
"I'm sorry we—" Caleb started. "We don't want—" Mateo said at the same time. They both stopped. Caleb gestured at Mateo. Mateo shook his head once—you first. Caleb leaned forward, forearms on his knees, the confidence gone from his face. "I'm sorry we celebrated and didn't notice you were upset." Mateo's hand drifted toward her water glass, then stopped halfway. "We don't want to win for you; we want to win with you."
Her gaze swept across them like a teacher waiting for students who should know better to connect the dots. "I was furious at Chad," she said finally. "I was also mad at you. You answered him for me."
She pointed a finger at them, manifesting the boss she'd told Dante she was going to be. "Next time: I speak first. You stand behind me and look terrifying for ambience." She tipped her chin toward Don Dante. "Dante followed me. You would've led."
Killian's jaw tightened. Arthur nodded once. Jax leaned back with that delighted grin. "Understood."
Seven engraved name tags, getting schooled by the guy with a Sharpie.
Caleb raised his glass, smile bright with menace and delight. "To the eight pranks of April," he said.
The others followed, voices a low, overlapping chorus. "To the eight pranks of April." They drank.
Under the table, Dante's hand found April's and squeezed once.
April looked around the booth at the eight men with name tags. Did they mean anything? Or were they just expensive accessories on men who'd already proven they could talk over her when it suited them?
She'd spent the entire day on Chad. First trying to celebrate their anniversary, then pranking him to get back at him. The club was supposed to be the safe place, the fun place. Then he'd shown up here too.
Now it was being shaped by men in name tags.
The club's music pulsed too loud. The lights felt too bright. The crowd was too close, the attention too sticky, the thrill of being seen no longer felt like her. It felt borrowed. Like something she'd been trying on that didn’t fit right
Her scalp ached from the dozen pins holding up her hair. The emerald dress,God, she loved this dress, but she’d chosen to prove a point to a man who didn't deserve the energy.
"Are we having fun here?" The words came out before she could stop them.
She looked at the men around her.
"I mean—why are we even here? Is this—" She gestured at the club, the booth, the whole performance of it. "Are we here because it's what people do after galas? Because someone said to?"
She paused, rearranged thoughts. "I keep ending up places. Like I'm a leaf or something. Just... floating wherever the current takes me. And I want to—"
Choose—no. Decide.
Killian opened his mouth— Mateo's hand landed on his arm. Jiro's gaze flicked sideways. The message was clear:Let her talk.
Killian closed his mouth.
"I don't want to be here anymore," April said.
She looked at the name tags again. They'd apologized. Stayed seated when she confronted Chad. Dante had followed her lead without a word.
Maybe the name tags meant something.
But if they did mean something, if they were actually listening this time—
She stood up. "I'm leaving.”
