Page 53 of What We Burn

“The collars,” Knox says. “Those were Dogtra units. The 1900S. I recognize the shape.”

We all stare at him.

“It’s a good collar,” he adds, like that’s the part we were confused about.

“Why do you know shock collar models?” Micah asks.

He gives him a pointed look.

“Ah. Military shit. No further questions.”

Knox takes another bite of banana bread. “Point is, those units have a half-mile range. Gloria can zap them from anywhere in the house.”

Micah puts down his slice. “She’s running a perimeter.”

“She’s running a prison,” Holden says. “Those men are inmates. They serve her food, they check her face before they speak, and when one of them steps out of line—” He mimes pressing a button.

“Dennis.” I shudder, remembering the full-body jerking.

“He was about to disagree with her,” Holden says. “In front of guests. In front of her son’s partners.”

“And she lit him up like a Christmas tree,” Micah finishes.

The kitchen goes quiet. We all look at the banana bread.

“It’s really good banana bread though,” Micah says.

“Exceptional,” Holden agrees.

We eat more of it.

I look around the island at these four men, all in varying degrees of undress, illuminated by the amber under-cabinet lighting and nothing else. The counter littered with crumbs, the air thick with walnut and cinnamon. Nobody has said Stephen’s name since we left Gloria’s driveway, I notice. I don’t say it either.

“So, what’s the plan?” I say when I’m done chewing. “We just . . . hope Gloria never has a reason to take out an insurance policy on one of us?”

Eli drains his water. “We could flag her,” he says, deadpan. It’s the same voice he uses for threat assessments and chore rotations. “Keep her on the radar. But unless Milo gets a sudden inheritance and a mysterious rash, I say we leave it alone.”

My eyes meet his across the counter.

I miss him.

“Agreed,” Knox says. “We can’t make Milo see it if he’s not ready.”

“You’re right,” I say. “We just . . . keep our eyes open. And maybe don’t eat anything she sends home that we haven’t watched her make.”

“We’re literally eating her banana bread right now,” Micah points out.

Everyone looks down at the loaf.

“This is some Kool-Aid cult shit,” Knox mutters.

Holden takes another small bite. “At least it’s moist. It would be a real tragedy to get taken out by a dry crumb.”

“So we die together.” Micah raises his slice. “Cheers.”

We tap banana bread slices like champagne glasses.

“Well,” Eli says, taking another slow bite. “If arsenic tastes this good, I kind of get why people do it.”