Page 211 of Dark Night of the Soul

Grace nodded like she’d expected that exact wording. Like she’d heard enough in her life to recognize a man who never promised what he couldn’t deliver.

Ophelia’s spoon stilled. “And tomorrow?”

Ulrich slid a folded paper onto the table near Kincade—quiet, efficient. Routes. Rotations. Names. Planning that looked boring until it saved your life.

Ludwig leaned back, eyes on the ceiling for a second. “So, this is dinner and a briefing,” he said. “Love that for us.”

My mother didn’t speak. She watched—posture angled so she could see the door. Like survival didn’t leave you because dessert arrived.

Kincade’s voice stayed low, calm. “They already breached this house once. The cameras and guards buy us time. They don’t buy forgiveness.” His gaze cut to me. “So, the question is simple.”

He paused.

“What do we do the moment the Brotherhood realizes you’re home?”

“Isn’t that the million-dollar question,” I said. I dipped my spoon into the pudding, scooping up soft cookies and banana. “Let them come. I’m not running again.”

There was no heat in my voice, but saying it felt like making a promise to myself.

“None of us are,” I added.

And I meant it. If I was going to stay here—if they were going to come for me, for him, for any of us—I was done being chased. They weren’t getting me again.

“I’ll drink to that,” Ludwig said. “If I had a beer.”

Then my mother spoke, so quiet it barely counted, “They’ll come.”

Silence consumed the table. I looked at her to see if she was lucid—she was. Her hand was tight around her glass, but her eyes weren’t on anyone. Not even me.

“And when they do,” she added, voice quiet and certain, “you’d better be ready.”

Kincade didn’t hesitate. “We will be.”

And the way he said it wasn’t comfort.

“Then we should talk about the first breach point,” Ulrich said. “Because it won’t be the gate.”

But I’d had enough shop talk. “We can talk about that later.”

“Yes,” Grace added. “No war talk at the table. We’re civilized.”

I smiled at that. Such a Grace thing to say.

Ulrich said, “In that case, it’s time for my shift.” He rose. “Thank you for dinner, Grace.”

Ludwig went next. Grace insisted we leave the dishes for her to take care of later while she helped Natasha back to her room. Ophelia followed them out.

Leaving only the two of us.

The room felt different without them. Smaller. Quieter. Like the air had shifted.

And for a moment, I wanted it that way. His steady presence beside me.

“He’ll come, won’t he?” I asked, meaning Sebastian. I didn’t want to say his name aloud. It felt like it might conjure him.

“Yes,” he said. “And when he does, I’ll end him.”

It wasn’t a threat. It was a promise. There was no heat in the words, either. Just fact.