"You're always nice, Mom."
"I'll bedeliberatelynice."
She kisses my cheek and heads back to the kitchen. I stand in the foyer for one beat.
The bond rooted deep in my body is doing two things at once. Atlas is a low steady pulse from somewhere northwest, the soft far-distance hum I have been carrying for a week now. Bane is closer, in the house, in his office down the back hall, and the bond with him is doing something specific—going tight at the edges in a way that means he is on a call or concentrating.
Margot wants me in the kitchen setting the table. I should go to the kitchen.
I head upstairs instead, the bond dragging me straight to Atlas’ office.
The door is open six inches.
I stop in the hallway, just out of Bane’s sight line. He’s at the large desk, I can see him through the gap in the door. Phone to his ear. One hand pressed flat to a piece of paper on the desk, fingers spread. His shoulders are set high and square—the way they go when he is being patient with someone he loves and the patience is costing him.
"—I hear you, brother." Pause. "I know. Listen. I know. But Talbot is moving. He pulled two officers off the Tennessee subsidiary this morning. He's scrubbing. He's been scrubbingsince Tuesday and we both knew he would and you arestilltelling me to wait."
A long pause.
"Yes.Yes. I know Hwang said next week. Hwang isn’t the one watching Talbot bury the paper trail in real time. I am."
Another pause.
"...no. Don't. Don't say it like that. I'm not going early without you. I just—Atlas.Atlas. If he buries Tennessee, the federal piece collapses. Hwang can't subpoena what doesn't exist. Santos can't build a case on what's been shredded. You know this."
A pause.
"...how many days?"
Bane pinches the bridge of his nose.
"...mm.Okay. Five."
He rolls his neck and pulls the phone away from his ear slightly like he’s about to crush the thing in his grip.
"Yes.Yes. Five. I can hold it for five. But that's the limit,brother. After five we move whether you're back or not. Tell Santos. Tell Hwang. I'm not letting Talbot run."
Pause.
"...and the nine?"
His shoulders shift. His hand on the desk flattens.
"Everything’s ready. Reeves has been ready for two weeks. The house in Pennsylvania is staffed. I have transport for all nine and a doctor on retainer. I just need to knowwhen. If you give me five more days, I'll hold. If you give me one, I'll move tomorrow morning. Your call."
A long pause.
"Yeah."
His voice changes.
"He's good, Atlas. He's—yeah. He's been good. He's bringing Wren over. We're doing dinner tonight. He's—he's good, brother. I'm watching him."
My lips pull in a smile when I realize Atlas asked about me. My inside go a little mushy. As if Bane felt it, his eyes snap to the door. He sees me.
He doesn’t flinch.
He doesn't stop the call or lower his voice. He just holds my eyes through the gap in the door and keeps talking, and the bond between us runs clear and steady the whole time—no flinch, no scramble, nothing hidden. He's letting me hear it. He's choosing to.
