Knox follows, boots heavy. When I stop near the bar, he stops behind me close enough to feel without turning.
"You did good," he murmurs.
My laugh is small and broken. "I didn't do anything."
"You stayed. You didn't disappear inside yourself."
My fingers tighten around the tea. It's cooler now, sweet on my tongue.
Knox's touch trails from my back to my waist, fingers spreading over my stomach, claiming the center of me. His mouth brushes my temple so briefly it's almost nothing. My skin sparks anyway.
"You're mine," he murmurs, so low it barely exists. "And I'm not letting him forget it."
I turn my head. My cheek brushes his jaw. The stubble scratches, real and solid.
"I'm done running," I whisper, the words coming before I can weigh them.
Knox goes still. His grip tightens. "Say it again."
I close my eyes, letting his warmth seep into my spine. Around us is the low rumble of voices, plans forming, the compound shifting into defense.
I open my eyes and stare at the dartboard on the far wall, metal ring catching a sliver of light.
"I'm done," I say, and my voice doesn't shake.
Knox holds firmer, his mouth at my ear. "Good. Because I need you at that table when Malachi lays out what we've got on Alice."
My stomach sinks. But I nod.
Chapter 39
Sloane
Frankie'splacealwayssmellsof sage first.
The real kind. Sharp, green, thick enough to make my sinuses flare and my shoulders drop at once. It clings to the corners, threaded through disinfectant from her workstations, the metallic ghost of ink that never quite leaves a tattoo shop. Lamps glow instead of the overheads, leaving corners soft and faces golden.
Frankie has her hair up and sleeves rolled, black nails tapping against a glass bottle of sparkling water. Maggie moves around the kitchen as though she owns it. Dish towel over one shoulder, a tray of something sweet cooling on the counter. Ruby is perched on the edge of a barstool, eyes bright, grin alreadydangerous. Candace sits with her posture casual, but her gaze tracks everyone. Darla rummages through Frankie's snack stash with the concentration of someone defusing a bomb.
I'm at the edge, palms on the counter, letting the warmth of the wood and the steady noise of them keep my mind from doing what it does when things go quiet.
Ruby's grin widens until it looks as though it's a threat. "Ladies. We are getting them back."
Candace folds her arms. "We're not losing."
"We're winning," Ruby agrees, insulted by the implication.
Darla comes up with crackers and gummy candy. She doesn't meet my eyes when she tears the packet open, but her mouth twitches.
"Still," Darla says, chewing with concentration, "it's a principle thing."
"Exactly." Ruby points at her. "It's not about winning. It's about making sure they never, ever feel comfortable again."
Frankie twists the cap off her water and lets it hiss. "I still can't believe they had the audacity."
Candace shakes her head. "They really thought you wouldn't notice."
Frankie's mouth tightens. "They put live, laugh, love signage in my shop."
