Valkyrie and I peeled off as Snake Eyes and Spade stepped closer to the desk, talking through angles. 8-Ball leaned over the map again, eyebrows drawn together.
Out in the main room, the clubhouse was in that strange middle state of half-normal, half-not.
Guns on the table being cleaned. A couple of guys shooting billiards. One of Roadkill’s kid’s drawings still stuck to the fridge in the corner from before Blackjack sent all the kids to safer houses.
We drifted toward the bar.
Jackal was behind it, towel over his shoulder, bottle in one hand, polishing glassware that probably didn’t need it. Badger hustled past with a crate of soda and water, nearly tripped over his own boots, and got an absentminded smack to the back of the head from Mirage.
Tanya sat on a stool near the end of the bar, one knee hooked onto the rung, dark hair up in a messy knot.She had that glow of someone younger but was just as much done with everyone’s shit as 8-Ball was. Quinn was on the other side, arms resting on the bar, fingers wrapped around a glass of something clear and innocent-looking that she wasn’t really drinking. Her eyes had the red rims of someone who’d cried herself out and kept going anyway.
Rebecca moved past us with a tray of plates from the kitchen, hair up in a bandana, expression sharp and tired.
“Hey, Valkyrie,” Tanya said when she saw us. “Devil Boy.” Her eyes flicked over us like she was checking for fresh blood. “You two still in one piece?”
“For now,” Valkyrie said, sliding onto the stool next to her.
“Define one piece,” I added.
Jackal snorted. “That joke’s getting really old,” he said. “What are you having?”
“Coffee,” I said.
“Same,” Valkyrie put in.
Jackal arched a brow. “Living wild.”
“War hangover,” I said. “Don’t want to get drunk enough to forget why my ribs hurt just yet.”
“Fair.” He poured coffee into two mugs and slid them over.
Quinn glanced at us, offered a small, strained smile. “You two good?” she asked. Her hand tightened around her glass. “Heard Dante’s club last night… wasn’t boring.”
“That’s one fucking word for it,” I said.
“Almost everyone made it out,” Valkyrie added. “Raptor...”
Quinn’s face tightened. “I liked that kid,” she said softly. “He always offered to run and get me snacks when I was stuck waiting for Miami to get back from a run.” She shook her head once, like she could dislodge the image. “You were both there?”
“We were,” I said. “He went down fighting. That’s not nothing.”
She swallowed, eyes shining for a second before she blinked it back.
Rebecca slowed as she passed again, one hip bumping the bar. “You don’t get to keep all of them,” she said. “As much as we want to. You two,” she nodded at me and Valkyrie, “don’t be heroes every time. Leave some stupid brave shit to the rest of them.”
“Noted,” Valkyrie said.
Rebecca smirked and moved on.
Valkyrie turned her attention to Jackal fully. “So,” she said, nodding at him. “Turnpike got his patch. That leaves you and Badger holding up the prospect end of things.”
Jackal shrugged one shoulder. “Guess so.”
“Any feelings about that?” she asked. “Jealous? Bitter? Planning his murder?”
He snorted, for real this time. “Nah,” he said. “Turnpike earned that shit. He’s been here longerthan me. You watch him on a run, you know he was already wearing the patch in his head.”
“And you?” Valkyrie pressed.
