Page 153 of What We Burn

“Morning, baby girl,” he says as soon as he sees me. His voice is a low, warm rumble that wraps around me. “Knox.” Both men nod at each other cordially.

I stop on the other side of the bar. “Have you been here all night?”

He grins. “I have. It was quite the party last night.” His eyes move to Knox. “You almost got called in.”

Knox just grunts in response, a low sound vibrating in his chest that means he’d have been perfectly happy to break some heads if needed.

Before Micah can elaborate on whatever chaos went down, the heavy front doors groan open again.

I turn as the rest of them walk in. Holden leads the pack, his posture rigid, his bright blue eyes already sweeping the room. Eli is right behind him, lean and coiled tight, his autumn eyes locking onto me before the door even swings shut. And bringing up the rear is Milo, balancing a cardboard tray of coffees and wearing sunglasses the size of dessert plates despite the indoor gloom.

“I’m running on two hours of sleep, three Red Bulls, and the sheer power of my own unbridled genius,” Milo announces to the room, kicking the door shut with his heel. He sets the drink tray down on a nearby cocktail table. “Also, whoever decided to schedule a war council before nine a.m. on a Saturday is officially off my Christmas list. Holden, I’m looking at you.”

“I didn’t schedule it,” Holden says, his voice clipped. He stops beside me, his hand briefly brushing the small of my back. “Odin did.”

“Yeah, I know.” Milo grins and pulls a giant coffee from the holder. “I’m just looking at you, Holden. Odin’s never been on my Christmas list. I’d have no idea what to get him.”

Eli crosses the floor and stops right in front of me. He looks exhausted, the faint scar on his jaw standing out in the dim light, but the chaotic energy he usually wrestles with feels entirely focused now. He doesn’t say a word. He just lifts a hand and brushes his thumb along the side of my neck, right over the edge of my choker. I lean into it for a fraction of a second.

“Everyone’s here,” Micah says, tossing his bar towel over his shoulder. “Let’s head back. The room is prepped.”

Knox has one hand wrapped around my waist. Micah helps Milo carry the coffee for everyone. Eli reaches the door first and opens it.

Milo leans close to my ear. “Do you want me to carry you across the threshold? Because I will. I’ve always wanted to be a bridesmaid.”

“It’s a meeting,” Holden says. “Not a wedding.”

“Both involve binding contracts and the possibility of public humiliation.”

“Move, Milo.”

He grins and steps back. “After you, kitten.”

Taking a steadying breath, I step through the door, and the first thing I notice is how ordinary it is.

I expected something darker. Stone walls. Bloodstains. A rack of weapons arranged by preferred method of execution.

Instead, there’s a large oval coffee table sitting in the middle of a curved couch. A screen takes up most of one wall. On one side there’s a smaller version of the main bar. On the other is another door.

Knox takes his place against the wall.

Of course he does.

Odin is already seated in the middle of the main couch, a tiny cup of espresso beside one hand. His suit is dark gray today, perfectly fitted, without a wrinkle anywhere. He looks like he’s here to discuss a hostile corporate takeover instead of an organized network of predators.

His strange gaze moves to me.

“Miss Adams.”

“Odin.”

One corner of Milo’s mouth twitches. Apparently, I’m supposed to be intimidated by the fact that no one knows his real name and he can make people disappear across multiple continents.

I’ve been abused, assaulted, strangled, stalked, and left hanging from a noose. And I survived it all.

A well-dressed man with a glass eye is going to have to work harder to get under my skin.

I take a seat on the couch opposite, and Micah hands me a coffee before sitting to my left. Eli sits on my right. Holden drops into the seat near Odin, while Milo pulls out his laptop and sits beside him.