"Yes, we do," Noah says quietly from behind me. "And the answer is no. You're not running. We're not letting you."
"You can't stop me."
"Watch us," Jack says, his voice carrying that authoritative principal tone that makes my core clench despite everything. "We'll follow you. Track you down. Drag you back if we have to."
"That's kidnapping," I point out, but there's no heat in my words.
"Call it what you want." Blake's hand slides up my side, his touch possessive.
The doorbell rings, shattering the moment. We all freeze, staring at each other in the darkness. It's barely six in the morning. Who would be here this early?
The doorbell rings again, more insistent this time.
I extract myself from the tangle of limbs and grab my robe from the chair, wrapping it around myself. My hands shake as I tie the belt.
"Stay here," I tell the men, but they're already moving, reaching for their clothes.
I walk down the hallway on unsteady legs, my heart hammering against my ribs.
I open the door and find my mother standing outside, her face pale with worry. Her brown eyes are red-rimmed like she's been crying.
"Mom? What's wrong? Is Dad okay?"
Her gaze moves past me, and I watch her expression shift from worry to shock to horror.
I turn to see what she's looking at, and my stomach drops like a stone thrown into deep water.
Jack, Blake, and Noah stand in the hallway behind me, all three men clearly having just rolled out of my bed.
There's no hiding what they were doing here. No explaining away three men emerging from my bedroom at six in the morning.
My mother's eyes widen as she takes in the scene, her hand flying to her mouth.
43
NOAH
I watch Linda's face transform like a time-lapse photograph of erosion. Shock hits first, her brown eyes widening as she takes in the three of us standing in Mia's hallway. Then disappointment settles into the lines around her mouth, pulling her features downward. Finally, something that looks like resignation washes over her expression, and her shoulders sag like she's carrying a weight that just doubled.
Her gaze moves from Jack to Blake to me, cataloging our disheveled appearance with the precision of a prosecutor building a case. There's no hiding what we were doing here. No explaining away three men emerging from her daughter's bedroom at six in the morning.
"Mom." Mia's voice shakes as she tightens the belt of her robe. "What's wrong? Is Dad okay?"
Linda's hand trembles as she grips the doorframe. "I need to speak with you. Alone."
The word lands like a gavel striking wood. Final. Non-negotiable.
I want to argue. Want to stand beside her and face whatever Linda has to say together. Throughout history, dividing forces has always been the first step toward conquest. But the plea in Mia's expression stops me.
"We'll be in the bedroom," I say, my hand finding hers briefly. Her fingers are ice cold.
Jack looks like he wants to protest, his jaw tight with barely controlled frustration. Blake's hands clench at his sides. But we retreat down the hallway, leaving Mia alone with her mother.
The bedroom door closes with a soft click that sounds too much like a cell door locking. I lean against it, straining to hear the conversation happening in hushed, urgent tones in the kitchen.
"How could you?" Linda's voice rises slightly, carrying down the hallway. "Three men, Mia? Three?"
Blake paces like a caged animal, his athletic grace reduced to restless energy. "This is bullshit. Mia just can't catch a break."
