East nudges Nash. "Planning to blink anytime soon, or should we bolt a chair down facing the mats?"
Nash doesn't move. Shoulders angled fully toward Ruby, attention so obvious it's defiant. "I'm monitoring."
"Monitoring," Malachi echoes. "With your entire chest turned."
James glances at Nash's feet. "You repositioned to keep her in your peripheral. That's commitment."
Nash cuts his eyes sideways, glare sharp, ears red. "You want to keep talking, or keep breathing?"
East grins. "There it is."
I don't pile on. Nash being rattled is entertainment enough, and the fact that he never denies it says everything.
My attention stays where it belongs. Sloane. Sweat-slicked, breathing hard, shoulders squared even when her form slips. She wipes her face, shakes out her hands, and goes again.
Everything else fades.
"Last round," Candace calls.
Sloane moves through the final drill with grit more than grace, breath ragged, form imperfect, but she stays on her feet. Candace claps once. "That's it."
I'm moving before the sound fades. Hand at her waist, firm, claiming. I put my forehead to her temple, mouth close enough that my words are hers alone.
"You stayed in it." After yesterday, after her father, I half expected her to shut down. She didn't.
She leans into me, sweat-slick and solid. "So did you."
Ruby laughs nearby. "This is my favorite day."
I don't look away from Sloane. The clubhouse hums around us. Laughter, tension, plans stacking, tea lights still flickering down the hall. Peonies stand guard over the war room nobody had the nerve to dismantle.
Sloane tilts her head up, a small smile breaking through exhaustion.
"Later," I murmur, because if I kiss her now, in front of everyone, I'm not stopping. "You and me. After this is done."
Her smile deepens. Her eyes flick past me toward the war room, where the pastel tablecloths are still spread and my laptop is still open.
"How bad is it?" she asks. "What you found on him."
My hand tightens at her waist. "Bad enough that Phoenix is already moving."
Her smile dies. But she doesn't look away.
Chapter 41
Knox
Wemoveat6a.m. East is already in the parking lot when I pull up, trunk open, grinning with the energy of a man who slept two hours and doesn't care. Nash leans against the wall with coffee, looking as though he regrets every choice that led him here. Kyle sits on the tailgate, clipboard in hand, headset around his neck. He's taken the Prank War Compliance Officer title seriously. There's a lanyard.
"Status report," East says.
Kyle flips a page. "Playlist swap is loaded on a burner. Just need Ruby's phone unlocked for thirty seconds. Maggie's spice labels are printed and cut. Knox already handled the scrubs last night." He looks up. "I also made a timeline."
"Of course you did," Nash mutters.
"Car wrap guy is on standby for later," East continues. "Once Darla's at the theater with my mom, we move on her car. James has the kitchen handled since, you know, he lives there. Ruby left her phone at the bar last night, which is a gift from God."
"And the ducks?" I ask.
