"Arden doesn't care about poker," Leo says, still grinning. "He only cares about things that bleed."
"Not true," Arden says, voice flat and smooth as glass. "I also care about things that burn."
Leo laughs. Frankie's mouth twitches as if she's fighting a smile and losing.
The rear door swings open last. Victor emerges, all tailored suit and controlled power, phone already to his ear. He nodsonce at me, at Frankie, then heads inside without breaking stride.
Leo lingers. His gaze drifts back to Frankie, something softer sliding into his expression.
"You look tired," he says, quieter now.
Frankie's jaw ticks. "You look annoying."
"That's my baseline." He steps closer, hands in his pockets, casual but intentional. "You eating? Sleeping? Or just chain-smoking and pretending you're fine?"
"Option C. With a side of 'mind your business.'"
"Can't." His grin softens into something almost tender. "Tried that once. Didn't take."
They stare at each other for a beat too long. Arden clears his throat. It's barely a sound, but it cuts through the moment clean as a scalpel.
Leo blinks, steps back, the easy mask sliding into place. "Malachi inside?"
"War room," Frankie says, carefully neutral.
"Cool. We'll go ruin his day." Leo starts toward the clubhouse, then pauses, glancing back. "You coming?"
Frankie shakes her head. "Break's over. Gotta get back to the shop."
Leo's jaw tightens for a half second before he covers it. "Next time, then."
"Maybe."
"I'll take maybe." He grins again, quick and bright, then disappears through the door.
Arden lingers a second longer, studying Frankie with that unsettling, unblinking intensity. "He worries," Arden says finally.
Frankie snorts. "He's a professional worrier. Comes with the job."
"Not about most people." Arden tilts his head, measured and precise. "Just you."
Then he's through the door without making a sound, which shouldn't be possible for a man his size. Frankie stares at the closed door, hands curling into fists at her sides. I clear my throat. She startles as if she forgot I was here. Her eyes snap to mine, too bright, too sharp.
"Don't," she warns.
"Wasn't gonna say anything."
"Good." She shoves off the wall, heading for her car baking in the lot. "Tell your wife I said hi."
"Will do."
She pauses, hand on the door, back to me. "Knox?"
"Yeah?"
"Leo's one of the good ones." Her voice goes quieter, rougher. "Make sure he stays that way."
Before I can answer, she's in the car, engine turning over, gravel crunching as she peels out. I watch her go. My chest won't loosen.
