Page 101 of Pistols & Peonies

I lift a brow. “Not the worst?”

She shrugs. “I’ve met a lot of assholes, Kane. Whit doesn’t crack my top ten.”

A reluctant chuckle escapes me. “We’re close,” I say, even though she didn’t ask. “Always have been. Especially since…”

“Since your parents died,” she murmurs, finishing the thought before I can.

I nod once and swallow the rest of my whiskey, the burn settling low in my chest. For a second, I consider pouring another, but I need a clear head for this conversation.

She studies me quietly for a moment before asking, “Is he an enforcer too?”

“No,” I answer immediately. “Pack enforcement isn’t really his thing.”

“Huh.” She rolls her empty glass between her palms, staring down into it like the answer might be hiding there. “What is his thing?”

“Trouble,” I mutter before I can stop myself.

Her lips twitch. “Yeah, I picked up on that.”

Silence settles between us again. Not comfortable, not hostile, just… waiting.

Finally, she looks back up at me, eyes sharp. “How was work?”

“Fine,” I mutter. “Routine.”

She tilts her head, blue eyes searching mine. “Did you tell Alpha about Eclipse Underground?.”

“No. Like I told you before, I’ll handle it privately.”

“Because it could implicate me,” she muses.

I nod.

She nods too, like she already expected that answer, but there’s something else simmering under the surface now. Something she hasn’t said yet.

“Would you stick your neck out like that for anyone else?” she asks carefully, searching my face.

“Very few people,” I admit.

“Is your brother one of them?”

“Absolutely,” I answer without hesitation. “He’s family.”

She nods again, reaching forward to set her glass on the coffee table, and I swear I can see the gears in her head turning. Whatever she’s building toward, it’s going to hurt.

I set my empty glass down and fold my hands together, leaning forward slightly. “Just ask me what you want to ask, Violet.”

She stiffens, the reaction small but unmistakable, before she smooths her expression into something that looks almost innocent. “Ask you what?”

“Don’t play games,” I grumble. “You’ve had that look since last night.”

Her gaze slips away from me, drifting toward the floor-to-ceiling windows across the room. The city glows behind the glass, thousands of lights scattered across the skyline, their reflections shimmering faintly in her eyes.

And in that moment, something inside me settles into place.

She knows.

I’m not sure how she figured it out, but Violet is sharper than most people realize. She sees things others miss. And now she’s looking at the city like she’s trying to decide what to do with the puzzle she’s pieced together.