Gray eyes lock onto mine. There’s a split second where he checks me over–face, shoulders, stance–making sure I’m still solid.
“All set?” he asks.
I nod once. “Yeah.”
His gaze lingers on me a second longer, then he lowers his phone.
“Come eat downstairs with me.”
Leaning against the door frame, my arms cross loosely over my middle.
“Are you asking,” I tilt my head, “or telling?”
His lips twitch. “Both.”
His phone buzzes again. His expression doesn’t shift–but something in the air does. His fingers tap on the screen then locks it before tossing it onto the bed. He crosses the room in three strides, stopping close enough that my pulse trips.
“Stay close,” he murmurs, brushing his thumb once over my jaw. Not possessive. Not gentle. Certain. Then he steps back.
“Get dressed, then we’ll head down.”
The elevator ride downis quiet, but the second the door slides open, the world feels louder. The building buzzes with life. Slot machines sing softly in the distance from the gaming floor, footsteps echo over polished floors, voices overlap in low conversation. It’s a jolt to my senses after leaving the bubble of the quiet penthouse.
Karson doesn’t reach for my hand. Instead his palm settles at the small of my back–warm, firm, impossible to ignore. He guides me forward with ease through the crowds, and people notice.
Heads turn, staff who usually smile at me suddenly look unsure of where to put their eyes. Uniformed security guards nod at him before glancing at me, trying to go unnoticed. Some of them don't look at me at all. Karson doesn’t acknowledge any of it, but I feel the way his fingers flex any time one of them looks a second too long.
We pass beneath the towering black and gold arch of Abaddon, and he steers us into a restaurant tucked at its base. It’s quieter here. Dimmer. Intentional. He chooses a booth in the back without asking for one. Always the back. Always the vantage point. He gestures for me to slide in first, then takes the seat across from me–facing the entrance.
A waitress approaches our table, but before she can get our order someone slides into the booth beside Karson. She throws up her hands in irritation then turns back toward the kitchen. My lips tug in a small smile when I see a familiar set of blue eyes.
“What’s for breakfast?” Cole sighs as he settles into the seat.
“Is there a reason you’re in my seat and not in the Pit for shift change?” Karson grits out, staring Cole down.
“On our way there now and saw you two through the window.” Cole tells him, giving me a playful wink. I shake my head, and I don't miss the way Karson’s jaw ticks. Cole just grins, completely unbothered. “Relax, I’m not trying to steal your girl. She’s my bestie. Plus I value my life.”
“Hendricks,” Karson growls.
Before I can say anything, another shadow falls over the table. Looking up, I vaguely recognize him from that night in Rapture. He just stands for a second watching the three of us.
“Kellen,” Karson nods at him. “Everything smooth this morning?” he asks, tone even.
Kellen nods, eyes flicking over to me. Not in an appreciative way, just measuring.
“Yes, sir. Rapture’s reopening went smoothly. Smaller crowd than usual. Made for an easy night.”
“Good,” Karson clips. The silence at the table stretches, almost uncomfortably slow before someone else walks up.
“Jesus fuck,” Karson groans. “The morning meeting is in the pit, not at my fucking breakfast table.”
This face I recognize, but I’m not sure of his name. He chuckles.
“Sorry. I actually stopped in for a coffee and saw you guys as I was leaving,” he lifts the cup in his hand.
My phone vibrates on top of the table, but I ignore it. The newcomer glances over to me and smiles.
“I’m Owen,” he tells me and I nod politely.
