Page 54 of Vows of Ruin

We all laugh, low and warm, the kind of sound that wraps around your ribs and makes you forget the world outside even exists.

Max sips his coffee. “Food is ready. Come down. It’s an actual sit-down breakfast, not us standing around eating out of the pans or the toaster like raccoons in a garbage dump.”

I stare at him, skeptical. “Someone cooked? Like… on purpose?”

He nods. “Yeah, Doc. Said she needed something to do with her hands, that wasn’t stitching someone up or punching Torque for snoring.”

Wrenley stretches like a cat, then curls closer to me. “We’ll be right down,” she murmurs.

Max starts to turn back toward the door when Wrenley calls, “Umm, excuse you?”

He pauses, smiling before stepping back to the bed. He leans in and kisses her, slow and soft. She hums against his mouth, satisfied when he pulls away.

“Better,” she says, voice thick with sleep and satisfaction.

Max grins. “Yeah. See you two in ten, before it all gets eaten.”

As the door shuts behind him, I glance down at Wrenley, who’s now propped on one elbow, grinning up at me. “I like mornings like this,” she says.

I lean in, brushing a kiss to her temple. “Me too, Little Warrior. Me too.”

Wrenley’s laughter cuts through the kitchen like sunlight, sharp, bright, and impossible to ignore.

We’re all sitting around the long oak table, plates piled high from Doc’s surprise gourmet breakfast spread. Wrenley’s curled up on Max’s lap, practically glowing. I’m next to them, watching like I always do, half a step back, half a breath behind, except now I don’t have to keep my distance. Now she’s ours. And fuck, that still doesn’t feel real.

Torque’s giving Wrecker shit about something dumb he did when he was nineteen, and Wrecker’s quipping back like he always does.

“This from the kid who wanted to be a priest when he grew up,” Wrecker fires.

Wrenley nearly chokes on her mimosa, laughing. “Huh. Daddy.”

Everything goes still. Max freezes, mid-sip. Margot stops mid-chew. Riot glances over his shoulder like he misheard her. Hugo, saint that he is, sighs from under the table like he’s used to this kind of madness.

Wrenley’s eyes go wide. She slaps a hand over her mouth, like she could shove the word back in. But it’s too late. It’s hanging in the air now. Loaded. Dangerous.

Margot breaks the silence with a wicked grin. “Wrenley Evelyn Hayes-Blackwood,” she drawls. “That was dirty. I liked it.”

Wrenley groans, dropping her face into Max’s shoulder, muttering something like, “I hate you all,” but she’s laughing.

Max and I share a look over her head. We don’t say anything. But the grin on his face matches the one I feel pulling at mine. Because now all I can think about is her saying that again. To one of us. Or both. And maybe, in a much, much different context.

The laughter is still fading from the room when Elias clears his throat and leans back in his chair, arms folded, expression turning sharp.

“Well,” he says, dragging the word out just long enough for everyone to feel it. “Unless anyone else wants to lay out their newly discovered kinks—”

“Shut up,” Wrenley mutters, still half-laughing into Max’s shoulder.

Elias just grins. “We’ve got business. The serpents at the safehouse say Matthew’s asking to meet. Says he has something new.”

That wipes the smile off everyone’s faces.

Max shifts beneath Wrenley, jaw tightening. Wrenley lifts her head, all amusement gone now, the steel sliding back into her eyes. Margot’s already reaching for her laptop. Riot tosses his fork onto this plate with a loud clatter.

The whole room shifts like a storm front rolling in, fast, heavy, inevitable. I feel it too. That cracking tension. That familiar sense that whatever comes next isn’t going to be simple. Or easy. Or clean. Then again, it never is.

Wrecker stands, pushing his chair back with a scrape. “Guess that means breakfast is over.”

Torque grabs his mug and downs the rest of his coffee. “Shame. I was starting to enjoy the peace.”