Page 105 of Wicked Brutal

“I won’t do anything that puts her at risk.”

Dad’s expression doesn’t change. “That’s not the same promise.”

“It’s the one I’m making.”

For a second, he just looks at me. Then he sighs. “Your mother says this is what I get for teaching you to think independently.”

“She’s right.”

“Your mother is always right. It’s exhausting.” That gets the corner of my mouth. Barely. Dad stands. “Ten minutes.”

“Fifteen.” His eyebrows lift. “You just woke me up for a six-a.m. organized crime summit. I’m showering.”

“That’s remarkably considerate.”

“Fuck off.” He reaches the door before I stop him. “Dad.” He turns. “Did Arthur sound worried?”

Dad doesn’t bullshit me. “Yes.”

“Ten minutes,” I say.

By five fifty-seven, Dad and I are walking into Arthur Walsh’s house. Iz opens the door wearing sweatpants, a black T-shirt, and the expression of someone personally offended that his father has decided federal crime requires him to be conscious before sunrise. He steps aside. “Welcome to hell.”

“Morning.”

“No, it isn’t.” Dad pats his shoulder as he passes, and Iz looks at me. “X is already here.”

“Why?”

“He trains at an hour reserved for farmers and serial killers.”

We follow Dad toward Arthur’s study. Xander is on the couch with Gideon, completely dressed, awake, and eating something out of a protein bar wrapper like six in the morning is a normal time for his body to function. Danny is slumped in a chair beside Clifford with his hood up and both hands wrapped around coffee. Theodore is across from them. Kaiden is leaning against Arthur’s desk while Callum talks quietly with Thomas.

Arthur is behind the desk. He looks like he hasn’t moved since four. Folders are open everywhere. His laptop is on. Two legal pads are covered in handwriting, and there’s a stack of printed pages beside his elbow that wasn’t there the last time we did one of these — which is saying something, because apparently gathering in somebody’s father’s office to discuss federal investigations is just a thing we fucking do now.

X looks at me when I walk in. “You look terrible.”

“You look annoyingly alive.”

“I was supposed to train at five.”

Iz drops into the chair beside him. “We know. You’ve mentioned it four times.”

“Because I’m making sacrifices for this family.”

Danny lifts his head from his coffee. “You hit people.”

“Professionally.”

“Amateurly.”

X looks offended. “That’s not a word.”

“It is now.”

Gideon reaches over and takes the wrapper before X can start gesturing with it again. “Could we perhaps postpone whatever this is until after Arthur tells us why he called twelve people into his house before sunrise?”

“Eleven,” Iz says. Arthur looks up. Iz counts quickly. “Fuck. Twelve.”