Page 151 of Godless Saints

The cafeteria buzzed with end-of-year noise. Voices overlapping, trays clattering. I sat with the others, watching the door. Moon walked in a minute later, squinting.

Vivi spotted him. She tossed a bottle of headache pills across the table. “Catch. Figured you’d need these too.”

Moon caught it, dropped into the seat next to me, and shook two out. He stole a swig straight from Vivi’s water bottle. She didn’t even pretend to care.

Aleksei sat quiet on her other side. Sawyer was already attacking his plate. Misha next to him.

Vivi leaned in. “Are Kaelan and Noah actually a thing now? Or…? Wasn’t Kaelan bullying him quite aggressively two months ago?”

Sawyer snorted. “He lost his mind when Declan’s crew jumped Noah. Complete script flip.”

Misha raised an eyebrow. “How exactly do you know everyone’s dirt, Sawyer?”

Sawyer leaned back, smirk sharp. “People talk to me. I’m pleasant to look at. And staying in good standing with the Whitlocks opens doors.”

Moon shook his head.

I laughed into my coffee. Moon’s hand slid onto my thigh under the table and stayed there, warm.

Vivi, still clearly hungover, perked up anyway. “You excited about going home, Hyun?”

Moon nodded, leaning into my side a little. “It’ll be good to be home for a bit.”

Vivi’s eyes met mine. “You’ve never been, right, Cillian?”

“Not yet.”

I’d practiced my Korean. Enough to get by. Moon caught my eye.

“Just be yourself. They’ll deal with it.”

I grinned. “Already found a few things for us. Han River night walk. Hot springs up north. Couple stuff.”

Moon groaned. “Oh god.”

Vivi grinned. “You should do the Namsan Tower lock thing. Very romantic.”

Misha barked a laugh. “Yeah, just use protection. Don’t come back for year two pregnant, Moon.”

Sawyer raised an eyebrow. “Who’s saying Moon isn’t the one fucking Cil?”

I just grinned and shook my head. Moon shot me a look. We were definitely giving too much away.

“No fucking way,” Sawyer said, waving at Misha. “Told you Moon topped him. Pay up.”

Misha sighed, pulling out his phone. “Fine. Thanks, Cillian. You had to get fucked. I’m losing money and he’s richer than all of us.”

Sawyer laughed, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

“Maybe you shouldn’t have bet against it, you stupid Russian.”

The table went quiet, then broke into laughter.

Aleksei flipped a page in an actual newspaper, sighing, black coffee in hand like it was 1995.

Sawyer couldn’t resist. “How old are you, Aleksei? Because you act seventy-two with that newspaper and plain black coffee.”

Aleksei didn’t even look up. “It’s called having standards.”