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“No shit,” Xavier whispers.

Yale says, “Want me to hold your hand?”

“Fuck you. Silence, just do it.” I pierce his skin and he grits his teeth, squeezing his eyes closed as I pull the thread. “Fuck. Someone talk.”

“Yes, talk,” I say, praying for my hands to quit shaking. “What happened tonight?”

Zayden clears his throat. “Someone has been following you.”

I pause my work, and Xavier hisses, “Do not stop!”

“Sorry,” I whisper, continuing. “Following me? Why?”

“To get to us, probably,” Zayden says. “I need to find out who the hell Ryker Blake is, track him down, and kill him.”

This time when I pause, Xavier only breathes through the interruption.

I’ve never heard Zayden talk like this. I know what he does, but I make a point of burying it deep in the back of my psyche along with all the other fucked-up shit in my life. My husband being a killer isn’t something I need to revisit on the daily.

I continue sewing Xavier up, and Zayden speaks again. “I’ll have Cleo find out everything she can.”

“Why was he in Silence’s room?” Yale asks. “He got a key somehow?”

My cheeks warm and I grab the scissors, cutting the thread. “This is going to burn. Stay still.” I pour alcohol over the wound, vodka spilling over blood and thread, soaking into his jeans and my couch.

“Mary Kate and Ashley, what the fucking fuck!” Xavier bites his knuckles. “I hate you, Silence Silver, I swear to every god there is.”

“You’re welcome,” I say, handing him the vodka bottle. He swallows several large mouthfuls. “Sit forward, I need to check your back.”

The second knife wound isn’t as bad. It’s far shallower but still requires stitching, so I sew it up, cover it, and Xavier continues drinking. “I can’t fucking believe you told her about McDonald’s.”

Yale chuckles. “Please, you were a little proud of it.”

“Asshole,” he grumbles, and I laugh softly, patting his back to indicate I’m done. “What are you laughing at, Q? I bet you’ve got secrets.”

I focus on tidying away the packaging from the bandages, gauze, and antiseptic, ignoring him. For a moment, I wonder if he’ll bring up how he saw me defend myself. I may be rusty, but I clearly know more about self-defense than I’ve let on.

“Anyone wanna know what Silence said in the bathroom an hour before she married Z?”

I whirl and stare down at Xavier. “What did you just say?”

He grins up at me lazily, placing the vodka bottle on the coffee table and stretching his arms above his head, abs and biceps flexing, the ink shifting on his skin. “Uh-oh. Good-girl Silence is scared.”

My cheeks and neck heat. “I don’t even know what you’re⁠—”

“I could fuck all of them,” he says, imitating my voice. “I bet that’d be fun.”

I draw in a gasp. “How did you hear that!” Yale barks out a laugh, and even Zayden is smirking. I throw balled up packaging at Xavier. “I was drunk!”

“And horny, apparently,” Xavier cackles, and I’d kick him if he wasn’t already hurt. “Look how much she’s blushing. Nothing wrong with liking group sex, little Q.”

“Oh, shut up,” I mumble, snapping the first aid kit closed. I pause and face him. “Actually, fuck you. You’re right. I like sex. I especially like sex with attractive men who look like my husband. You two losers”—I wave my hand between a cackling Xavier and Yale—“just so happen to fall into that category. But I was also drunk and might’ve married a chair that night if given the chance.”

Zayden blinks. “Wow.”

“Oh shush. I love you, and it all worked out,” I snap, storming toward the kitchen and tossing the first aid kit on the breakfast table.

When I return, Xavier is frowning at me. “Hold on.” He sits up with little difficulty, so I’m guessing the vodka is kicking in. “Ryker was from the bar, and he was staring at you⁠—”