Reva swallows hard. “There were men in the room.”
Her eyes flick to Ever, then away again.
“And one of them…his arm.” She inhales like it hurts. “A rosary tattoo. Red. Like it was wrapped around him in blood.”
“That’s why you were so interested in my tattoos.” The light bulb turns on, and I can’t help interrupting.
Reva bites her lip and nods. “I had to make sure you weren’t…one of them. That seemed the easiest way.”
The kitchen goes so quiet I can hear the hum of the refrigerator. Reva keeps talking as we exchange glances over her head.
“I ran,” she says. “I found my mom’s phone. I hid in the closet. I stayed on the line with 911 because I thought…if I stayed on the line, someone would come fast enough.”
Her eyes shine. She wipes one cheek with the back of her hand like she’s angry at the moisture.
“And I heard it,” she whispers. “Pops. Like popcorn. A lot of them.”
Her mouth trembles. She presses her lips together hard. “And then it was quiet.”
I don’t ask what she saw when she came out. I don’t make her say it.
She drags in a breath and looks up at us.
“I came here,” she says, voice turning steel again, “because someone sent me a photo at work.”
Nash’s gaze sharpens. Ever’s eyes go colder.
“It was in a hand-addressed envelope,” she says. “Had my full name and a Polaroid of Noir on Toulouse Street.”
My stomach twists.
“You didn’t just ‘find’ us,” I say quietly.
Reva shakes her head once. “No.”
Her eyes flick between the three of us, confused and fierce. “Someone wanted me to come here.”
Nash moves then. He steps in close and pulls her back against his chest, pressing his forehead to her hair.
“That’s all I needed to know. No one will ever hurt you again,” he says.
Reva goes rigid for half a heartbeat. Then her shouldersdrop a fraction.
I meet Ever’s eyes over her head. We exchange a look that doesn’t need words.
A vow.
Reva inhales shakily and forces herself upright again. Nash lets her go without argument, but he stays close.
Ever’s gaze doesn’t leave her. I can see the storm in him, trying to stay leashed.
Nash’s voice turns practical again because tenderness isn’t a place he lives. “You need to take a shower and get cleaned off. And then rest.”
Reva’s mouth tightens. “Look. I…I appreciate the help, but the only thing I asked for was someone to…take on a contract. If you can’t or won’t do that…well…I’m not your prisoner. I think it’s time for me to leave.”
“No,” Nash says, eyes on hers. “You’re ours to protect. Beyond that…we set the terms.”
Reva’s breath catches. So does mine. Because finally…that’s the truth and we all feel it.
