One of the terriers cracked their eyes opened, as if it was accepting Indy’s vow.
“Hey.”
The sound of Malik’s low tone came from behind him. Indy didn’t startle, which surprised him. His fox had apparently decided that sensual voice didn’t require a threat response.
He looked over his shoulder.
Malik stood in the doorway of the bedroom, one shoulder leaning against the frame and his arms loose at his sides.
The overhead light caught the line of his jaw and the fullness of his beard. He was watching Indy the way he’d been watching him all evening, with that focused attention that made Indy feel both seen and slightly undone.
“They’re doing okay,” he reassured his mate. “Sleeping. Which is what they need.” He gave the terrier one last scratch then pushed to his feet, brushing a streak of dog fur from the sweatpants. “Ryan knows what he’s doing.”
“He does.” Malik didn’t move from the doorway immediately, eyes remaining on Indy, then he exhaled through his nose.
Indy tilted his head. The expression on his mate’s face said something heavy was on his mind. But he didn’t push, giving Malik time to gather his thoughts.
He’d pushed enough already for one night.
“Would you come to the living room?” Malik’s gaze moved briefly to the floor, then back up. “There’s something I should’ve said earlier. To everyone.” A pause. “I’d like it if you were there.”
The request was simple enough, but the weight underneath it wasn’t. Already Indy had learned that Malik wasn’t someone who spoke without measuring his words first, and the fact that he’d just asked instead of stated told Indy something about what this cost him.
He looked at his mate for a moment. Then he looked at the dogs. Then back at Malik.
“Okay,” Indy said, suddenly nervous. He headed out of the room, pulling the door toward him, but leaving it slightly ajar instead of fully closing it.
The hallway opened into the living room, which was warm with lamplight and smelled faintly of the fresh coffee someone had brewed, as well as the lingering outdoor air that had followed the men in from the deck.
Grayson was already seated in one of the armchairs, his posture easy but his eyes attentive. Colton stood near the far wall in a casual pose. Reese occupied the couch with Sonny tucked against his side, the two of them giving off the kind of settled, gravitational energy that Indy tried very hard not to be envious of.
Ryan leaned in the kitchen doorway, close enough to hear everything, a mug wrapped in both hands.
Indy took the armchair nearest the lamp and pulled his knees up. Malik didn’t sit. He moved to the center of the room and stopped, and the quality of the silence shifted the moment he did.
No one said anything. They just waited.
Malik looked at the floor.
Not at Grayson, not at Reese or Colton, not at Ryan or Sonny. Not at Indy. He looked at a specific point on the hardwood, and his hands, which were usually so deliberate and controlled, pressed flat against his thighs.
The way his mate looked, Indy wanted to go to him, to curl himself around Malik until the uncertainty disappeared from his expression.
“I owe the demons money,” Malik said. His voice was even, but it had a stripped quality to it, like something that had been pared down to its minimum. “Ten grand.”
Nobody spoke.
Malik’s jaw moved. “I have a gambling problem.” He said it the way someone said a thing they’d practiced saying and still found the actual saying of it nearly impossible. “Had. Have.” A beat. “It’s complicated.”
Indy glanced around the room. Grayson’s expression hadn’t changed, but his eyes had tightened slightly. Colton had gone very still. Reese was watching Malik with something that wasn’t anger, exactly, but it wasn’t happiness either.
Malik still hadn’t looked up.
Indy watched the line of his mate’s shoulders, the way they were set too carefully, the way his hands pressed into his thighs like he needed something to push against. Malik was built like a structure designed to hold weight, and right now, he was holding all of this in the center of a room full of people who mattered to him, waiting for him to continue.
“The debt is mine,” Malik continued. “Not the team’s. I didn’t tell anyone because I thought I could handle it.” He looked up then, and his gaze moved around the room, touching Grayson first, then Reese, then Colton. Not Indy. Not yet. “I was wrong. The demons escalated. They came for me.” He stopped. “I’m sorry.”
Pressing his lips together, Indy looked down at his own hands, which were curled loosely around his knees. Ten thousand dollars. Gambling. Demons who operated as an aggressive collections agency for supernatural debts. His mate had been running from this, carrying it alone.
