Not Wolf.
Not Trigger.
Tate stood near the locked front door with his arms folded, watching Vaughn like he was deciding whether burying a body tonight would actually count as community service.
Flick stayed close behind me.
Close enough I could still feel her hand curled lightly into the back of my shirt.
And God help me?—
that tiny touch kept me steadier than it should’ve.
Vaughn lifted his swollen face slowly.
“You really don’t get it yet.”
I crouched back down in front of him.
“You’ve got about five seconds before Trigger removes your teeth with a bar stool.”
“Tempting,” Trigger muttered.
Wolf pointed casually toward the kitchen.
“There’s bleach back there.”
Ava pinched the bridge of her nose.
“I cannot believe I am working with any of you.”
“You love us,” Trigger said.
“I absolutely do not.”
Normally, that would've earned a laugh.
Nobody laughed now.
Because Vaughn was staring at Flick.
Not me.
Her.
“You should’ve stayed dead.”
Every muscle in my body locked instantly.
Behind me, Flick stiffened.
Tate pushed off the door.
Wolf moved too.
But I got there first.
I grabbed Vaughn by the front of his shirt and slammed him hard into the floorboards.
