"It's about survival," Malachi says. "For the women. The system. For anyone who wants it burned down instead of polished."
I nod. "We don't rush. Don't spook anyone. Let Phoenix tighten the net."
Malachi's gaze flicks to the Boss Babe mug with visible contempt. "Pranks aside. We keep our heads on Mercer."
East smirks. "Even if it means sitting through this."
"I'll endure," Malachi grunts.
Nash reaches for the mini muffins. Everyone watches. He unwraps one, takes a bite. Chews.
"They're good," he says, flat as concrete.
East grabs one. James. I take one and break it in half. Malachi stares at the basket for a long beat, takes the last one without comment.
Five men eating muffins surrounded by fake flowers, lace, and a vision board that says MANIFEST YOUR BEST LIFE. Nobody acknowledges it.
Only we push back and head for the gym.
It smells of rubber mats and sweat. Candace is in the center, calm and steady, voice carrying without shouting. She corrects stances with precision, a touch to a shoulder here, a tap to realign a hip there, coaching firmness without fear.
Sloane is sweaty, breathing hard, hairline damp. Her movements are a fraction behind, frustration tightening her mouth, but she's still on her feet and still throwing. She wants to quit. I see it in the brief defiance when her foot slips. She resets. Tries again.
"Again," Candace calls. "Controlled."
"You've got this," Darla murmurs near Sloane, low enough just for her. A quiet anchor.
Sloane nods, absorbs it, and keeps going.
"Scared is fine," Candace says. "Quitting isn't. Again."
Sloane straightens. Breath pulling deeper.
East leans toward me. "You look two seconds from dragging her into a corner."
Malachi snorts. "Please. You've been staring at Darla as though she's oxygen."
"I blink. That's restraint."
"And yet," James adds, "you've adjusted your stance three times to keep her in view."
"Unfair analysis."
I catch Malachi's eyes tracking Candace as she moves through the line. Expression locked, jaw set, hands braced on his hips, holding himself in place.
"Careful, President. You're not as subtle as you think," I say with a smirk.
He doesn't look away. "I'm supervising."
"That's what we're calling it?" East says. "Your head's tilted."
Malachi drags his gaze back, mouth curling, unapologetic. "I've had her in almost every place in this club. I've been neglecting the gym. I'll fix that."
East glances between us. "So we're all feral today. Just checking."
Ruby laughs from the sidelines, breathless between drills. "You men are exhausting."
No one argues.
