And then, through the speakerphone, Zay’s voice.
“Aye.”
Jackie doesn’t hesitate. “Aye.”
Asher’s eyes are still locked on mine when he says, “Aye.”
Three votes.
Three people who, for reasons I can’t fathom, think I’m capable of holding this together.
Johnson’s face is the color of a ripe tomato, his jaw clenched so tight I’m surprised his teeth don’t crack. George looks like he wants to argue, wants to push back, but the reality of the situation has finally sunk in.
They’re outnumbered.
Outmaneuvered.
“Motion passed,” Asher says flatly. “Meeting adjourned. Get back to your posts and keep your mouths shut. If I hear anything other than praise, you’ll have to answer to me. And trust me—you don’t want that.”
People start filing out, some of them shooting me looks I can’t quite read—resentment, curiosity, pity.
Johnson storms out without a backward glance, George trailing behind him like a kicked dog.
Jackie stands, squeezes my shoulder once, and then follows them out, probably to make sure they don’t do anything stupid.
When the room finally empties, it's just me and Asher. And Zay's voice, still coming through the speaker.
"Val," Zay says, and there's something soft in his tone, something almost gentle. "You okay?"
I open my mouth to answer, but nothing comes out. I'm not okay. I'm so far from okay I can't even see it from here.
"She's fine," Asher answers for me, which is a lie, but I'm grateful for it anyway. "How's Xavier?"
"Still in surgery. Hour six." Zay says, and the exhaustion in his voice is bone-deep. "They're saying it's going to be a while longer. I'll call when I know more."
"Okay." Asher's hand comes to rest on the edge of the table, his knuckles white. "Keep us updated."
"Yeah." Zay pauses. "Take care of our girl."
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Asher tilt his head to the side. “Always.”
The line goes dead and I hold still, stopping my stomach from doing back flips at the comment ofour girl.
Asher moves around the table, his footsteps heavy, and stops in front of me. For a moment, he just stands there, the heat of his gaze burning a hole through my clothes, and the metallic scent of Xavier’s blood making me sick to my knees.
"Come on," he says quietly, grabbing my arm gently but firmly, and pulls me to my feet."You need air."
I don't argue. I let him guide me out of the room, through the hallway lined with dark wood paneling and portraits of men I don't recognize, and into a smaller office that smells like leather and old books. The second the door closes behind us, I feel like I can breathe for the first time since this nightmare started.
I lean against the wall, pressing my palms flat against the cool surface, and force myself to inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.
"Why?" My voice comes out hoarse, barely above a whisper. "Why would you do that?"
Asher crosses his arms over his chest, leaning against the desk. He rolls his jaw and the dried blood cracks against his skin.
"Because it's the only way to keep Xavier on top," he says simply. "And the only way to keep you safe."
I blink at him, trying to process his words through the fog in my head. "I don't understand."
