Page 90 of Break Me

“Probation’s over,” Knox says. “Effective now.”

Mouse straightens slightly.

“You’re back where you belong,” he continues. “But you answer to me. You don’t freelance. And you don’t lie to me again.”

“I won’t.”

Knox studies me one last time, then steps back, giving me space.

“Good,” he says. “Because I need you.”

That’s it. No handshake. No speeches. Just something old and solid clicking back into place.

Knox motions toward the table. “Sit.”

We get into it. Ridgeback. Names. Routes. What’s moved, what hasn’t. I listen and add what I know. We cover what needs covering, then it slows naturally, the way it always does when the work’s finished.

Chairs scrape. Someone reaches for their keys. I stand and head for the door.

Outside, the air feels different.

I’m halfway to my bike when I hear Knox behind me. “Wolf.”

I turn.

He stops a few feet away, hands in his pockets. Not the president now. “You didn’t just save my life,” he says. “You saved hers.”

“I’d do it again.”

“I know. And I know I don’t say this enough.” He hesitates. “Thank you.”

The word lands heavier than anything said inside.

“For her,” he adds. “And for me.”

I meet his gaze. “I’ve got her. Always.”

Knox exhales slowly. “I know you do.”

We stand there a moment longer than necessary, then he steps back.

“Go home,” he says. “Your wife’s waiting.”

I pull my helmet on and kick the bike to life.

Not because of doubt. Because the weight I’ve been carrying finally lets go and I don’t quite trust the space it leaves behind.

I pull over once and check my phone, my thumb hovering before I finally type.

Me: I want to take you out tonight. Somewhere nice. To celebrate being boring and married.

It takes a minute to get a reply.

Raven: Can we maybe stay in instead? I’m not feeling great.

Me: Of course. I’ll grab takeout.

Raven: Okay. That sounds perfect.