Page 90 of Vows of Ruin

“Yeah,” I force a smile. “Something caught my eye.”

He studies me, but lets it go. “Come on. Coffee first. Then chaos.”

I follow him into the café, the bell above the door chiming once. The smell of roasted beans hit me, rich and bitter. For a heartbeat, everything really does feel normal again. But the emblem won’t leave my head.

Sunlight slants through the café windows, painting warm golden stripes across the table. The smell of coffee and sugar sits thick in the air. Someone's playlist hums in the background, something slow and old that fits the morning better than it should.

Max orders before I can even open my mouth. He always does. Two coffees, one sweet enough to rot your teeth and one black and mean enough to wake the dead. He slides my cup across the table with that lazy grin that’s all charm and trouble.

“Two sugars,” he says. “Just enough cream to keep it from fighting back.”

I pause for half a second before taking a sip. Huh. It’s right. I glance at him over the rim of the cup. “You’ve been paying attention.”

He leans back in his chair, stretching like a cat, completely unbothered. “Always do, Sparrow.”

The nickname lands warm. It always does. For a few minutes, it’s easy, the kind of quiet that used to feel impossible between missions, and near death nights. I watch him watch the city outside, and for a heartbeat I let myself imagine this is all there is, just us, coffee, sunlight, no ghosts, no war.

“You’re thinking too hard,” Max says, eyes still on the window.

“I’m married to you and Liam,” I remind him. “Thinking too hard is part of the job.”

He smirks. “And yet, somehow, you still make it look good.”

I roll my eyes but don’t argue. He’s always been better at pulling me back to calm than I’ll ever admit out loud. When we leave the café, the air outside is cool enough to bite. Northwyck’s streets are waking up, the buzz of traffic, vendors setting up stalls, steam curling from manhole covers. It’s alive, messy, and familiar.

That’s when I see it, again. Painted small and deliberate on the edge of a brick wall across the street, a serpent biting its own tail. Black paint. Slightly faded, but fresh enough to gleam in the morning light. I stop walking.

Max turns halfway back, brow furrowed. “What?”

“Nothing,” I say too quickly. “Thought I saw something, again.”

He follows my line of sight anyway. “Where?”

“It’s gone.”

He studies me, that soldier stare I see in Liam more than him, that sees more than I want them too. Before I can redirect, a car down the block catches his attention, engine idling, windows tinted too dark for daylight. His posture changes in a breath. Without saying a word, he reaches for my hand and laces his fingers through mine. It isn’t the grip of someone ready for a fight, it’s gentler, protective in a way that feels like an apology and a vow all at once.

“Come on, Sparrow.” He murmurs, voice calm but firm. “Let’s keep moving.”

We cross the street. The city noise swells and then evens out again, but I can feel the tension vibrating through his hand. He doesn’t let go. Not even when we’re half a block away and the car finally pulls from the curb, merging into traffic like it was never there.

I glance up at him. “You saw it too?”

He nods once. “Yeah.”

We don’t talk again. As we weave through the crowd, his thumb keeps brushing the back of my hand, small, steady motions to comfort me, and him. Still, I can tell his mind is working just as hard as mine. Normal’s over. We both feel it.

The cowbell over the supply-shop door gives its usual rusty jingle as we step inside. Rhett, the clerk, glance up from the counter, grin easy and familiar.

“Well, if it isn’t two of my favorite troublemakers,” he says. “What are we restocking today? End-of-the-world kit or date night?”

Max chuckles, dropping an elbow on the counter. “A bit of both, Rhett.”

I hand over a list. “Hollow points, twelve-gauge, and whatever nine-mil boxes you’ve got left in the back.”

Rhett whistles low. “Are you planning a war or restocking from the last one?”

“Somewhere in the middle.” I say, smiling.