Jimmy rises slower. “We’ll know more soon.”
Joker smirks. “You always say that.”
“Because it’s always true.”
Logan pushes off the table and straightens to full height. “Then this is done. Keep your people close. Stay sharp. And for the love of Christ, if any of you feel the urge to do something reckless, go hit a wall until it passes.”
“That wall gonna volunteer?” Joker asks.
“I’m looking at it,” Logan says.
That gets a rough chuckle from a couple men, barely enough to cut the edge.
Church breaks after that in pieces.
Chairs scrape back. Boots drag over old wood. Paper gets gathered. Curses trade low and brief as men move toward the door in clusters, still talking, still thinking, still carrying the same ugly question out with them that came in.
I stand there longer while the room empties around me. Not because I need a moment. Because endings tell you more than meetings do.
Joker heads out with Hammer, shoulders tight, already halfway into the kind of mood that usually ends with blood on somebody. Blaze lingers near Shadow just long enough to throw a smartass comment I don’t catch before they both leave, Shadow unmoved, Blaze amused by his own bullshit. Dom says something quiet to Landon near the table and points at one of the papers, already shifting into problem solving mode. Logan remains where he is, hands on hips now, staring at the grain of the table like he can force it to give him answers.
Landon closes the folder and tucks it under his arm. “I’ll call Brynn on my way back.”
Logan nods. “Tell her I’m coming by later.”
“I figured.”
Landon looks toward me on his way to the door. “You heading out?”
“Yeah.”
“Ambrosia run?”
I nod once.
He doesn’t say anything else, but there’s a look there. Brief. Measured. He knows I heard more than was said in the room, same as he did. He just filters different.
After he leaves, it’s only me and Logan.
The smoke sits thicker with fewer bodies in here, curling under the yellow light overhead. Somewhere outside the room a kid laughs, high and bright and gone just as fast, probably one of the little terrors running wild through the clubhouse. The sound doesn’t fit the room. Makes the contrast sharper.
Family life outside.
Potential war inside.
Normal.
Logan finally looks at me. “You think I’m wrong to keep this tight?”
“No.”
“Think I’m wrong to say lay low?”
I push off the wall. My back loosens with the movement, not much, just enough. “Depends how men hear it.”
His mouth pulls grim. “That’s what I’m worried about.”
“Then tell them twice.”
