Page 90 of Joker

Then I scan the yard automatically.

Gate closed. Perimeter clear. Prospect near the far fence line. No vehicles on the road. No movement in the trees.

Nothing immediate.

The feeling doesn’t leave. It just settles deeper.

Raven glances up then, sees me on the porch, and offers a small lift of her chin. Nothing dramatic. Just acknowledgment.

Lexi follows her gaze and immediately brightens. “Joker!”

I make myself move. Walk down the steps. Keep my expression neutral. Don’t let a single bit of what just ripped through me show on my face. “Hey, bug.”

The nickname slips out before I can stop it.

Lexi doesn’t even blink at it. She just holds up the book. “The bunny is lost.”

I glance at Raven. One brow goes up slightly at the nickname, but she doesn’t comment. That almost makes it worse.

“Is he?” I ask Lexi.

“Yeah. We finding him.”

Raven closes the book around one finger and says softly, “We’re handling the crisis.”

“Good,” I tell her, eyes still on the yard for one extra sweep before I make myself look back at her face. “Wouldn’t want to escalate.”

That gets me a quiet smile from her. And there it is again.

That dangerous, impossible shift in my chest every time she looks at me like that. Warm. Trusting. Unaware of how bad an idea it is.

I crouch down in front of Lexi just long enough to tap the edge of the book. “You let me know if the bunny situation gets worse.”

She nods solemnly. “I will.” Then she leans into Raven and goes back to the page like the world is exactly how it should be.

I stay there one second too long, looking at them.

At Raven’s hand resting protectively over Lexi’s ankle. At Bunny wedged between them. At the easy shape of their bodies under the tree. At the way my own mind has already started measuring threats in relation to them instead of the property, the chapter, or anything broader.

Whatever this is, it’s getting closer.

I can feel it now. In the road. In town. In the way people are looking too long. In the way my own skin won’t settle.

And I know enough to trust that feeling even when I hate it.

So I stand, tell Raven I’m heading back toward the garage, and walk away with one thought lodged hard and ugly behind my ribs.

Something is moving.

And when it gets here, I need to be ready first.

By the time the music starts, I’ve already made three separate attempts to avoid the whole thing.

The first was practical.

Lexi’s bedtime.

The second was polite.