Knox's spine straightens as we step into the main room. He goes from husband to vice president in a handful of breaths.
Candace glances over her shoulder and forces a smile. I give her one back. Probably about as convincing as hers feels.
The front door opens again and the space fills. Nash prowls in, nodding once in that calm, unshakeable way that says he's already cataloged exits, windows, and who looks like they might snap first.
Ruby breezes through next, heels ticking against wood in a bright, defiant rhythm. She smells like sugar and trouble. Darla follows, quiet but alert, hand brushing East's knuckles for a heartbeat before letting go. Frankie slips in last of the inner circle, pen behind her ear like it lives there, gaze too observant for anyone's comfort.
Maggie and James arrive together, James moving stiffly like sleep didn't stick and his back's paying the price. Kyle's right behind them, shoulders set in "ready for whatever fresh hell this is" mode. More patched members filter in. Prospects hover at the edges, watchful.
I shrug out of my jacket and drift toward Maggie and Candace near the couches. Ruby throws herself across one end of the biggest couch with a dramatic groan.
"Well," she says, stretching. "Nothing like a dawn-of-destruction staff meeting to start the day."
Darla snorts, sinking into the cushion. "You say that like you didn't beg Nash to let you bring snacks."
"That's called boosting morale, Darla. Look it up."
Frankie drops cross-legged to the floor at the coffee table, notebook open, pen tapping her lip. "Something's shifting," she murmurs, almost to herself. "I can feel it in my teeth."
A chill runs down my spine. "Healthy," I say dryly, easing onto the loveseat beside Maggie. "Really comforting thing for our maybe-witch to say before a club war meeting."
Frankie lifts one shoulder. "I didn't say it was bad. Just big."
"Big is usually bad in my line of work."
Knox appears at my elbow, his big hand wraps around the back of my neck. His thumb brushes the edge of my jaw, calluses grazing right under my cheekbone. Holding me steady. "You good?" His voice is pitched low for me alone.
Lies rise automatically. I'm fine. Just tired. It's nothing. I give him half the truth instead.
"Med supplies are restocked. I can handle whatever stupid thing you all decide to do today."
His mouth twitches. Not quite a smile. Not quite not. "That's not what I asked, Turner." Of course it isn't.
I hold his gaze a second too long, the weight of everything I'm not going to talk about sitting between us like a third person. A girl on a cot. The name I swore I buried. A father who can turn bloodshed into good press before the smoke clears.
"I'll be fine. Just… don't make my day interesting, okay?"
His thumb skims my cheek once more, slower. "No promises."
Then Malachi's voice cuts through. "Brothers."
Every male spine snaps straight. Knox squeezes the back of my neck, once, then lets go. The core guys move toward the war room. Malachi, Knox, East, Nash, Kyle, Rider, a few older patched members. James with a grim roll of his shoulders. A couple of prospects follow, quieter than usual.
The door swings open and swallows them. When it shuts again, the sound echoes.
Ruby blows out a breath, rolls onto her back, and flings her arm over her face. "Well. That's not ominous at all."
Maggie rises as though she's done this a thousand times. "I'm putting on more coffee. No one say the word decaf in this house today. I will smite you."
Frankie lets out a quiet laugh, pen still tapping. "You don't smite. You nurture with aggressive casserole offerings."
"Same thing," Maggie calls back.
Candace settles onto the couch opposite ours, both hands wrapped around her mug like if she lets go she'll float away. Skin under her eyes bruised with exhaustion. There's a tremor in her fingers she's pretending isn't there.
I know that look. I see it in the mirror more than I like. "You sleep at all?"
The tiniest shrug. "Define sleep."
