"He said he ran into Alice. That she told him she'd seen me. That I looked settled." My throat tightens on the word. "He said he'd been looking for me. That I don't vanish from his life because I decide I'm done."
A low, furious sound comes from Candace. His grip flexes once.
"He said consequences follow people who forget where they came from." My voice shakes. "He mentioned Knox. The club. As though he was tasting the words."
Malachi's jaw tightens. "He's testing fences."
"Yes," Candace snaps. "And he knows we won't touch him in public."
Knox's voice comes out low. "Public is a variable. Not a shield."
I turn my head and look at him fully for the first time since the café. His eyes locked on my face, reading, tracking, measuring. His mouth softens when my gaze catches his.
"You're with me."
I hold his gaze.
Candace forces a breath. "We need a plan. A real one. Not just rage."
Frankie lifts her brows. "We can do both."
Maggie steps in. "First, she eats. Rests. You strategize after."
Knox's fingers press between my shoulder blades. I stop arguing.
"You fight better when your blood sugar isn't scraping the floor," James murmurs.
Darla squeezes my shoulders. "Please. Just let us do this."
I let them.
Knox leans down, mouth near my ear. "We're not letting him pull you back into that place."
"He already—"
His fingers press once, firm. "He doesn't get to finish it."
Malachi cuts through again. "Alice. Phoenix has been looking for her too. He'll be interested she showed up here."
"And Amelia?" Candace catches the thread. "She's coming back."
One nod. "On her way."
Darla's hand slides to her stomach without thinking, away again. She catches me noticing and offers a small, almost helpless smile. I squeeze her hand. A silent promise.
Frankie claps once. "Okay. Tomorrow night. Girls' night."
Darla exhales. "Tomorrow?"
"Tonight we rest. Tomorrow we reclaim." Frankie turns, eyes already moving as though she's lining up chess pieces. "Someone call Ruby. If she hears secondhand, she'll retaliate."
A corner of Candace's mouth twitches.
The compound shifts into its assignments. Arden sweeps the perimeter, Kyle pulls footage, Rider is at the gate, Victor makes calls, Olivia drafts routes.
And Knox stays at my back the whole time.
Maggie guides me toward the bar, murmuring about food. I move because my body has started obeying. Coffee and fried onions hang in the air.
