Gideon’s eyes slide to Jay’s forehead, where the blood has dried dark in his hairline. Then, to the bruise rising on Jay’s cheekbone. Then to Jay’s hands, knuckles bloody and scraped raw.
He scoffs. “So. You finally learned how to hit like you mean it.”
Jay’s mouth curves. “You know better than that, love.”
Nix takes that opening like a man who has never met restraint in his entire life.
He launches himself into Gideon’s arms with a soft, breathy sound, wrapping around him like a baby koala. Gideon catches him without staggering.
“Kitten,” he says, and the single word is both a scold and a claim.
Absolutely shameless, Nix beams. “Hi.”
Fingers find the back of his neck, slide up, thread into his hair—thunder and lightning clinging close like a possessive scent. When Gideon speaks again, his voice has gone smooth like silk.
“Did you leave the big guy for Jaybird?” Gideon asks conversationally.
Jay makes a sound that might be a laugh if it wasn’t edged with lingering enigma outrage. “He did not—”
Nix’s eyes go wide and innocent in a way no one should trust. “I didn’t leave anyone. I…um…redistributedresources.”
Gideon’s gaze flicks to Jay, slow. “And he was…forceful?”
Jay’s smile is a flash of teeth.
Nix sighs dramatically, one hand splayed over his chest like a man recalling a romance novel cover. “Rawr,” he says, dead serious.
Grayson chokes on air and immediately regrets it. His ribs send up a vicious complaint. He presses a hand to his side, teeth clenched.
“Easy,” Jay murmurs, voice low.
Finn looks up at the sound, gaze sharp. “Grayson.”
Grayson lifts his free hand in surrender. “I’m—”
“Don’t,” Finn says. “Don’t ‘I’m fine’ me. I have eyes.”
Grayson swallows. The adrenaline is gone now, leaving behind the shaking, the ache, the heaviness of what almost happened.
“Pretty. Hey.” Gideon sets Nix on his feet and cups the back of Grayson’s neck.
“It’s bad, Gid. Same shit. Difference villain,” he finally confesses. “They thought it was better to try this now rather than wait for the tribunal. I’m worried that this time we’re not going to be able to outrun it.”
“We just need to outsmart them.”
Grayson feels something squeeze around his heart as seven threads of fate and love hold him together.
“Okay?” Gideon asks.
Grayson meets his gaze. “Okay.”
Gideon nods once, satisfied by the promise in it. Then he presses his mouth to the top of Nix’s head like punctuation.
“Good,” Gideon says. “Because next time, we’re not letting them drive away.”
Grayson heartily hopes there isn’t a next time.
Nix hums, pleased, and snuggles closer. “Can we still call it a redistribution?”
