Page 155 of What We Become

I look at him.

“All six of you arrive at Unholy Desires tomorrow night through the main entrance in your usual vehicles. Make yourselves visible, get dressed up. Stay long enough for anyone watching to believe you’re settled in for the evening, then leave through the private level.”

Unholy Desires survives by protecting the identities of people who can’t afford to be photographed entering a sex club. A private elevator connects the secured lower floor to a sealed vehicle bay with its own street access and no line of sight to the public entrance. There are no cameras within a three-block radius—and that’s purposeful.

Odin nods. “My people will stage two vehicles there before you arrive, with secondary vehicles waiting at both extraction points. The teams leave separately and take different routes to their operation zones. Anyone watching the house or club sees exactly what we want them to see.”

Thor looks at all of us in turn. “If either team detects a tail, you abort immediately and report in.”

I want to argue. Every instinct I have says to find the unknown man, put him in a room, close the door, and keep asking questions until he gives me Stephen’s location. But this isn’t my call.

“Both targets are approved,” Odin says. “Wednesday night. Keep your eyes open. We want these men disposed of, but the safety of the team comes first.”

“Understood.”

The meeting breaks apart in stages. Eli collects the target files. Thor speaks quietly to Knox about vehicle placement while Micah gathers the abandoned coffee cups. Sage leans over Milo’s shoulder to study something on his screen, and Milo immediately begins explaining it at a speed no living person can follow.

I’m closing my notebook when Loki clears his throat.

“Before you all leave, there is one final matter requiring restitution.”

Milo looks up. “That sounds financial. I don’t like it.”

“The mattress at the cabin.”

The room stills.

Sage’s eyes widen. Knox looks at Milo, and Milo looks at the ceiling.

Loki folds his hands over the table. “I’m never one to judge bedroom preferences, but I will be billing you for the damage. The mattress was obscenely expensive, those sheets were imported, and you had an entire playroom at your disposal.”

“First of all, that was a torture room,” Milo says, offended. “Kitten was injured for most of the trip, so we only got two medically modified sessions before Odin made us come home, which is nowhere near enough time to work through the equipment inventory in your filthy leather-covered kink room.”

“You put a knife through my mattress.”

“It was a fucking knife. The distinction is important. I was trying to blend fiction with reality but in a much safer way.”

Loki pinches the bridge of his nose. “I suppose that explains why the caretaker described the charred remains of the knife he found in the fireplace as phallic.”

“You sound judgmental. Don’t shame my kink, Loki. We’re all about sex positivity here.”

Loki’s gaze travels slowly around the table. “You’re all together outside of Miss Adams, right? Why didn’t you use the room with each other?”

For the first time all morning, nobody answers immediately.

It isn’t because we don’t fuck when Sage isn’t there. Eli and Micah are together more often than not. Milo has become a partner to me. Knox does his own thing. But the room at the cabin had been waiting for Sage. For all of us. Using it without her would have felt like opening a gift with the person it belonged to locked outside.

“There is no us without her,” I say simply. “Why would we take enjoyment from something when we knew she’d be missing out?”

“That’s like leaving a ten-year-old in the hotel room at Disneyland,” Milo says, nodding. “You just don’t do that kind of shit.”

Loki’s brows lift, and he exchanges a glance with both Thor and Odin. “I suppose I never thought about it like that,” he murmurs, his gaze returning to us. “She isn’t an addition to what you have. She’s the center of it.”

“Well, yeah,” Milo says. “She’s our reason.”

Loki looks at Sage between us, and something I’ve never seen before crosses his face—a flash of longing so raw it almost feels private.

“Still, none of this made it okay to stab my mattress,” Odin says as he stands. “Loki will invoice Milo directly. You may go.” His gaze moves to me. “Holden, I’ll need you to hang back.”