Page 40 of Her Courage

Not like a woman who'd been threatened at gunpoint hours ago.

My jaw clenched. The urge to wake her—to pull her into my arms and confirm she was still here, still ours, still safe—burned through my veins like wildfire.

But I stayed still. Watching.

Kaleb was on the far side of the bed, his back to us. But he wasn't sleeping. I could tell from the tension radiating through his shoulders. The way his fingers clutched the pillow beneath his head. He'd been restless for the last thirty minutes, shifting positions every few moments.

Thrashing.

The nightmares were back.

Fuck.

I hadn't seen him like this in years. Not since we'd started the club and he'd finally found purpose beyond his mother's poison. But now Patrice had wormed her way back into his life, threatening everything we'd built.

Threatening our girl.

Andrei sat motionless in the chair positioned to face the bed—what he jokingly called my "cuck chair" whenever I parked myself there to watch. But there was nothing sexual about his vigil tonight. His amber eyes tracked every shadow that moved beyond the windows. Every creak of the house settling.

He was on guard duty.

Protecting us all while we slept.

Except none of us were actually sleeping.

I slipped from beneath the covers as quietly as possible, padding across the plush carpet to sit on the edge of the bed near Andrei's chair. He didn't acknowledge me at first, his gaze never leaving the windows.

"Can't sleep either?" I kept my voice low, barely above a whisper.

"No." The single word came out rough. Tired. "You?"

I shook my head, clasping my hands between my knees. "Kaleb's nightmares are back."

Andrei's eyes finally shifted to meet mine. Something dark flickered in their depths—understanding tinged with helplessness. "I noticed."

Behind us, Kaleb let out a choked sound. His body jerked, limbs flailing briefly before he stilled again. The sheets twisted around his legs.

My chest tightened.

"He hasn't had them in what, five years?" I ran a hand through my short hair. "Not since we opened the Sandbox."

"Six," Andrei corrected. "Not since his father's anniversary. The tenth year after his death."

Right. I remembered now. We'd found Kaleb at three a.m. in the building's gym, punching the heavy bag until his knuckles bled. Wouldn't stop until Andrei physically dragged him away.

"This thing with Patrice is destroying him." The words tasted bitter on my tongue. "He's trying to hold it together for Lottie. For us. But I can see it eating at him."

Andrei nodded slowly, his gaze drifting back to the windows. "He's afraid she'll target Lottie again. More afraid than he'll admit."

"We all are."

"Yes."

Another beat of silence. Kaleb thrashed again, a muffled cry escaping his lips. Not loud enough to wake Lottie, but enough to make my hands clench into fists.

I wanted to fix this. Wanted to make it better the way I had for Lottie when David cornered her. When Viktor took her.

But this wasn't something I could fix with comfort or words or even my presence.