He doesn’t tell me everything is okay. He doesn’t lie. He just holds me. And for once, I let the silence stay. Because the truth is already in the room with us.
He was right.
I was scared.
He was scared too.
And somehow, after all of it, I’m still here.
In his room. In his arms.
Choosing not to leave.
I’m in church before anyone else.
I take my seat. Not at the head. That seat is not mine. I don’t pace. I don’t check my phone. I don’t move. I sit. Watch. Wait.
The door opens behind me, footsteps heavy enough that I don’t need to turn to know who it is.
Shadow.
He doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t ask why I’m here early. He drops into his chair like he’s been here the whole time, arms folding across his chest, gaze already scanning the room the same way mine is.
A few seconds later, Joker walks in. He shuts the door slower than necessary, eyes dragging over me once before he takes his seat. “Morning, sunshine,” he says.
I don’t answer.
He grins anyway.
Blaze comes in next, rubbing the back of his neck like he slept wrong, which he probably did. He stops just inside the room, looks between me, Shadow, and Joker, and lets out a low whistle. “Well, this is fucking cheerful.”
“Sit down,” Shadow says.
Blaze drops into a chair. “You know, sometimes I wake up and think maybe today won’t be a shitshow. Today was not one of those days.”
More footsteps.
Hammer. Cain. Carter. Dom. Landon. The room fills fast, tension settling in layers instead of spiking. Nobody’s loud. Nobody’s joking too hard. Even Blaze dials it back once Logan walks in.
Logan doesn’t waste time. He shuts the door behind him, takes his seat, and looks around the table once before speaking. “Talk.” The word lands. Final. No side conversations. No distractions. This isn’t a check-in. This is a problem.
Dom leans forward first, laptop already open in front of him, fingers tapping the keys like he hasn’t stopped working since the call last night. “Burners are dead,” he says. “All three numbers tied to the van hit are disconnected. SIMs were pulled, devices wiped, probably dumped within ten minutes of the attempt.”
“Plate?” Logan asks.
“Partial,” Dom answers. “Matches two stolen vehicles in the last month. Both recovered stripped. They’re rotating.”
“Cameras?” Cain asks.
Dom nods once. “We got them on two intersections before they cut east. Same van, same driver profile, same pattern. After that, they disappear.”
“How?” Blaze mutters.
“Pre-mapped routes,” Dom says. “They knew where cameras are. Took turns that kill visibility. It wasn’t panic. It was planned.”
I sit back in my chair. Not relaxed. Still. Listening. Tracking.
Landon shifts beside Dom, sliding a folder across the table toward Logan. “Money lines up with it.”
