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When I glanced towards the back of the room, Quinn had leaned forward in his chair, elbows on his knees, completely absorbed. His lips moved as he followed the melody, quietly mouthing along to the words.

What surprised me wasn’t the attention.

It was the absence of the instinct I usually had to compartmentalise.

Quinn wasn’t separate from this part of my life. Somehow, without either of us noticing exactly when it happened, he’d become part of it.

When we finished the run-through, Theo’s gaze followed mine towards the back wall before he looked at me again.

“Well,” he said lightly. “Max didn’t forget how to sing.” He grinned. “I think that calls for a Hallelujah.”

“Thank you,” I replied in a dry tone.

Quinn grinned from the back. “I feel like I should clap or something. Is that offer to audition still open?”

The room burst into laughter.

Theo pointed at him. “Oh, he’s staying.”

I didn’t argue.

I think he’s already decided that for himself.

Quinn stood. “I’m going in search of something sugary,” he announced.

“You don’t need to go far.” Liam pointed to the small kitchen. “Second cupboard on the right.”

Quinn blinked. “You keep snacks here?”

“We’re ten men with questionable impulse control,” Sebastian replied with an eye roll. “Of course we keep snacks.”

Quinn grinned and slipped out into the small adjoining room. The door swung shut behind him.

Nine men turned towards me in slow, coordinated fashion.

“What?” I demanded.

“That was not just ‘Quinn,’” Elliott said.

I looked at him. “It wasn’t?” I could bluff for England.

Theo’s eyes were steady. “He’s not a scene.”

It wasn’t a question, and suddenly I saw no point in denying the truth.

I met his gaze. “No, he isn’t.”

“And?” Sebastian prompted.

I exhaled slowly. “He’s—” The word caught briefly. “He’s mine.”

The room went very quiet.

Theo’s eyebrows lifted. “In what sense?”

“In the sense that he isn’t confined to Obsidian.”

Finnley tilted his head. “Does he know that?”