Well, two can play that game.
I pulled a pen from the drawer and scrawled at the bottom:
Rule #6: Knock like you mean it.
I stared at the paper a second longer, then added:
Rule #7: No hostile workplace signage.
I scoffed like the whole thing was stupid, like I didn’t feel dangerously close to smiling. Then I grabbed my keys. I needed to get the hell out of there, and a night with the guys was the perfect excuse.
Brody’s kitchen smelled like beer, fried food, and whatever candle he’d convinced himself to buy to make the place feel less like a bachelor pad. It didn’t work. Not with the empty bottles lined up on the counter and the chip bags crinkling every time someone reached across the table.
The Horsemen were all here—crowded around Brody’s kitchen table like we were planning a heist instead of rolling dice and pretending we were fearless men with magical weapons and intact knees.
Austin sat at the head of the table, elbows planted, a screen propped up like a shield so no one could cheat and read his plans. His eyes shone with the enthusiasm of a man living his best life. He had maps. He had miniature figurines. He had a whole damn binder of notes.
Hayes sat across from me, but I could barely look him in the eyes—not after I’d pictured his little sister on her knees for me. Brody flicked a chip crumb off his character sheet. Cal was grinning like he’d actually gotten into this stupid game.
Me? I was there because, for a few hours, the only thing I had to manage was a set of dice.
It helped. More than I wanted to admit.
“All right,” Austin said, dropping his voice into that dramatic storyteller cadence he’d perfected. “You enter the village at dusk. Smoke curls from chimneys. Lanterns glow along a muddy road. The townspeople are ... nervous.” He leaned forward, eyes glittering over the top of his screen. “Because something is hunting in the woods.”
Brody snorted. “Something is always hunting in the woods.”
Austin ignored him. “You hear a scream. A shape darts between the trees—too fast, too low to the ground.” He tapped the map with a pencil. “Wes, you’re the closest. What do you do?”
My fingers closed around my d20 dice. The tiny plastic edges bit into my skin. “Fine,” I said flatly. “I go after it.”
Hayes’s brows lifted. “You’re going alone?”
“Warrior,” I reminded him, pointing at my chest. “Not babysitter.”
Brody laughed and clinked his bottle against mine. “That’s my guy.”
Austin held up a hand. “Roll initiative.”
The dice clattered across the table, bouncing off character sheets and empty beer caps. I watched the numbers tumble like it mattered.
It shouldn’t have, but it did anyway.
“Okay,” Austin said, scanning his notes. “The creature lunges from the underbrush. It’s got a jaw like a bear trap and eyes like?—”
“A Darling woman,” Brody supplied, clearly needling Hayes.
Cal choked on his beer. Hayes shot Brody a look that could’ve cut steel. I didn’t smile. I didn’t do anything except reach for my longsword figurine and push it forward on the map without laughing.
“Your warrior takes the hit,” Austin continued, unfazed. He pointed at me with his pencil. “The claws rake your thigh—deep. Your leg screams, but you push off anyway, launching yourself forward.”
The words landed like a fist to the ribs.
My jaw tightened. The kitchen blurred around the edges, and all I could feel was the phantom flare of pain, hot and electrical, like my body had heard Austin and decided to join the game.
I grunted, the sound low and involuntary.
Austin blinked. “Too soon?” he asked, suddenly uncertain.
