Page 87 of Break Me

Knox clears his throat. “Rae⁠—”

“No,” I say, holding up a hand. “Don’t. Not tonight.”

My father watches me closely, something like pride flickering beneath the concern.

“Ridgeback came for me,” I continue. “I heard you talking about it. And if there’s still a threat, I don’t get to be the only one at this table without the information.”

Knox shifts in his chair. “It’s complicated.”

“Everything is,” I say. “That’s not an excuse.”

Sam reaches for my hand under the table. His grip is steady, grounding.

“Raven’s right,” he says. “She doesn’t need operational details, but she has a right to know what happened.”

I squeeze his fingers once, a silent thank you for his support. “I’m not fragile,” I say. “That means you don’t get to treat me like I’ll break.”

That earns me a look from Knox, all president and no brother, the one that says I hear you and I’m still not giving you a damn thing.

I turn my attention to Sam. “Tell me what happened.”

Sam’s thumb stills against my hand. For a second, I think he might try to give me a watered-down version. Then he exhales.

“They came to your father’s house,” he says. “They were after you.”

The room goes still.

“They had eyes on the place,” he continues. “Timing. Vehicles staged. It wasn’t random.”

Dad nods once. “If Wolf hadn’t stepped in, they would’ve killed you and your brother.”

I absorb that without flinching, then turn back to Sam. “That’s why you sent Mouse.”

His jaw tightens. “Yes.”

“Thank you for not lying to me.”

His grip tightens, just a fraction. “I didn’t want you panicking,” he says.

“I was furious about being dragged off without an explanation,” I reply.

Knox’s gaze drifts to Sam before returning to me. “He made the right call.”

“I know,” I say. Then, quieter, “I just needed to understand it.”

“That’s all we know,” Knox says. “Ridgeback’s gone quiet.”

“Quiet doesn’t mean done,” I say. “It usually means worse.”

Knox’s mouth twitches. “It always does.”

I glance between the two of them, then at my father, who’s been watching without interrupting.

“So, you’re watching,” I say. “And the next time you get information that involves me, you don’t keep me in the dark.”

Knox studies me for a moment, not weighing my words, but deciding how much ground he’s willing to give up. When he speaks, his voice is steady, final.

“No,” he says. “That’s not how this works.”