"The part with the numbers."
"All of math has numbers."
"Exactly."
Jinx laughs. The sound still startles me sometimes, how free it is. How genuine. Six months ago, I'd never heard him laugh like that.
"I'll help you after breakfast," he says. "We have time."
Lily nods, mouth full of pancakes. Under the table, Biscuit whines hopefully, his tail thumping against the floor.
Biscuit is a disaster of a dog. A golden retriever mix with too much energy and no sense of personal space. He sheds everywhere, steals food off counters, and sleeps at the foot of Lily's bed every night.
She adores him. We all do.
"What's on the schedule today?" Jinx asks, reaching for his coffee.
"Work until three. Conference call with Jagger at four. Marlee's stopping by for dinner." I tick items off on my fingers. "Also, the garden needs weeding."
"The garden always needs weeding."
"That's what gardens do."
"I'll help after school." Lily swallows her pancakes, reaches for more. "If I don't have too much homework."
"You always have too much homework."
"That's what school does."
Jinx snorts. Biscuit whines again. I toss him a piece of burned bacon, which he swallows without chewing.
This is our life now. Burned bacon and homework and a dog named Biscuit. Boring, domestic, ordinary.
It's everything I never knew I wanted.
The day passes in the quiet rhythm we've built.
Lily goes to school. Jinx works in the garden, coaxing potatoes and peppers and things I can't identify out of the dirt. Ihandle the business side of things: reports, calls, the endless administrative work that comes with rebuilding an empire.
The Silent is different now. Still powerful, still connected, but pointed in new directions. The trafficking operations are dismantled. The Foundry programs are ashes. What remains is a network of influence that Jagger is slowly, methodically, turning toward legitimate ends.
It's not perfect. There are compromises, complications, deals that taste sour in my mouth. But it's better than it was. The children who were rescued are healing. The children who might have been taken are safe.
That has to be enough. For now, anyway.
Lily comes home at three-thirty, bursting through the door with Biscuit at her heels.
"I got an A on my history test." She waves the paper in my face. "Look. An A. The teacher said I have 'exceptional knowledge of global events.'"
"That's because you've actually experienced global events." Jinx comes in from the garden, dirt on his hands, sweat on his forehead. "Most kids learn about war from textbooks."
"Most kids are boring." Lily drops her backpack, heads for the fridge. "Can I have a cookie?"
"After homework."
"But Papa—"
"After homework." He catches my eye, smiles. "House rules."
