Reynolds led them back through the corridors, the older stone holding its familiar coolness. At the junction where the residential wing branched off, he slowed and turned toward them. “You heading out?”
Melvin nodded. “For a while.”
Mac gave a small nod. “We’ll check in again tomorrow.”
“I’ll be here,” Reynolds said.
Melvin reached out and clasped his shoulder briefly. “You did good today.”
Reynolds nodded. “Thanks.”
Mac studied him for a beat. “Get some rest.”
Reynolds nodded once more and turned down the corridor, stride steady and unhurried as he disappeared around the bend.
Melvin watched him go, then turned back toward the exit with Mac beside him.
When they stepped out into the late afternoon light, the city had begun to tilt toward evening, the noise of traffic and voices settling back around them after the quiet underground.
They had time yet before dinner, before the weight of introductions and first impressions, before Mac’s sister Rachel and Melvin’s sister Jasmine sat across the same table and began fitting pieces of twodifferent lives into something shared. Mac had spoken with Rachel that morning; Melvin had called Jasmine afterward and arranged the rest.
Chapter 16 - Mac
The restaurant in Midtown Manhattan wasn’t fancy, but it had warm lighting and cloth napkins, enough to feel deliberate without trying too hard.
Mac noticed things automatically when he walked in. Exits. Spacing between tables. The rhythm between the staff and the kitchen. None of it held him the way it usually did. His attention went instead to the man already seated near the back wall, shoulders relaxed but posture still straight enough to betray the habit of years.
Melvin looked up as they approached, and something in Mac calmed the way it had the first time he saw him step through a doorway stateside, the quiet certainty that this was where he was supposed to be.
Melvin stood.
Rachel reached him first. She hugged him like she’d known him for years, not cautiously and not politely, but with the easy warmth shegave to people she’d already decided belonged. “So you’re the reason he’s not completely miserable lately,” she said.
Melvin laughed softly. “I do what I can.”
Mac snorted. “Traitor.”
Rachel ignored him the way she always had when she thought she was right.
She pulled back and studied Melvin, the quiet measuring that had nothing to do with manners or small talk.
For a moment she said nothing at all.
Mac felt the wolf in her before she spoke, not challenge and not suspicion, just the steady instinct of family taking in someone new and deciding whether they belonged close or kept at a distance.
Finally she nodded once, almost to herself.
“I like him,” she said. “He looks steady.”
Melvin glanced toward Mac with a small smile. “High praise.”
Mac let out a quiet breath that almost passed for a laugh. “You have no idea.”
Rachel’s eyes flicked to him then, sharp and knowing. She didn’t explain herself, but she didn’t have to. She looked back at Melvin, her expression softening just a fraction. “You stand your ground,” she said. “He needs that.”
Mac shifted in his chair. “Rach,”
She ignored him. “Most people either try to match him or get out of the way,” she went on. “You don’t do either.”
