A broken laugh edges out, rough and wet. I swipe at my eyes and give up on stopping the tears. They slide hot and humiliating down my face anyway.
They all hold steady. Every face in the room stays on mine. Shoulders square. Eyes soft and open.
Frankie watches me, then hums, soft and thoughtful. "You spent years in a room where no one could hear you. This is a different room. And we're loud."
Ruby points at Frankie. "That. Put that on a mug."
"This is not a mug sentiment, Ruby," Maggie says, exasperated and fond.
"It could be. I know a guy with a Cricut machine."
The tension doesn't vanish, but it eases. I drag in a breath that doesn't taste of panic for the first time since I started talking, and there's more air in my lungs than when we walked in.
"Thank you. For not walking away."
Malachi snorts. "You're late to the party if you thought that was on the table. We take care of our own. That doesn't stop because your bloodline's rotten."
"We prefer found family anyway," Ruby adds. "Less paperwork, more swearing."
James finally speaks, rough. "Victor's going to want in on this. Not just for Donovan. For Olivia. For anyone who touched those girls."
"He will," Malachi replies. "You'll loop him in when you call him, piece by ugly piece."
The room shifts as adrenaline ebbs, conversation fracturing into murmurs, logistics, and the scrape of chairs. The war hasn't started, but the first battle lines just got drawn.
Knox doesn't remove his hand. When I lean back, just a fraction, testing the space, he's right there. Solid. Unmoving. I let more of my weight settle into him. The tightness in my shoulders releases one degree at a time, then all at once, and I sag against him before I can stop myself.
Across the room, Ruby's already half-planning some chaotic distraction, judging by the light in her eyes and the way Nash looks as though he's bracing for impact. Candace has drifted to the bar, Malachi close enough to resemble armor. Darla and East are in quiet conversation, shoulders turned toward each other, gravity in the lean. Maggie is talking softly to James. Frankie's scribbling notes that look as though a conspiracy theorist designed the layout. Arden is still by the hallway, watchful, quiet. But his posture has shifted since he volunteered; something unlocked in the set of his shoulders that wasn't there before.
All of them are still here. All of them are looking at me as though I belong in this room.
I let myself take one look at the faces around me, people I've patched up, laughed with, worried over, pretended I didn't need. My family, whether I know how to carry that word or not.
Knox leans down, beard brushing my temple. "Told you," he says. "You're ours."
Chapter 32
Knox
Iwakeuptothe feel of her.
Solid weight, real warmth, a whole woman wrapped around me as though she's staking a claim. Her knee is hooked over my thigh, bare calf against my leg, and her hand is spread over my chest right where the ink is. As if she's keeping my heart pinned in place just in case it thinks about going anywhere.
For a second I don't move. Just lie there and memorize every detail before the world rushes back in.
Gray light sneaks around the curtains, soft enough that everything looks blurred and quiet. The air smells of her shampoo and my soap. Her hair is a mess against my bicep, soft and wild. Every exhale ghosts warm over my skin.
My hand is already on her hip, under the hem of the T-shirt she stole from my drawer. The fabric rucked up in her sleep, and my palm found bare skin. Warm, smooth, soft. My fingers flex before I can stop them.
Fuck. Want is my baseline. Breathing, blinking, wanting her. No space between the three.
Sloane stirs, fingers twitching against my chest. Her nose scrunches, then this sleepy little sound escapes her. She burrows closer, tucking her face under my jaw as though she's decided my throat is her personal pillow.
I'm gone. Completely.
"Morning," I rasp, more growl than word.
She goes still for half a heartbeat, as if habit makes her check the exits even asleep. Then she relaxes, melting back into me, and presses her palm more heavily over my heart.