I look at all of them. “Please don’t follow.”
Nobody speaks.
I point at the note. “She slept in my bed, told me she wanted real, then left that on my kitchen table.”
Holler winces. “Yeah. That’ll turn a man inside out.”
I glare at him.
He lifts both hands. “Not defending. Just naming.”
Legend picks up the note, folds it carefully, and hands it back to me.
“You going there to drag her back?”
“No.”
The answer comes fast.
From somewhere deeper than rage.
I don’t know it’s true until after I say it.
Legend studies me. “Then why?”
“To ask her if she wants me there.”
That shuts the room down for a second.
Even Royal looks less likely to say something that needs a punch.
Oaks’s face softens in the smallest way. “Good answer.”
“Didn’t ask you.”
“Still.”
Legend nods once. “I’ll give you the route.”
Relief and fresh rage hit together.
“But,” he says.
Of course.
“If Hot Mama says no, you don’t start a war with Big Daddy’s blood.”
I stare at him. “She got my woman.”
“She sheltered your woman. My possible sister,” he adds, voice lower, rougher. “And my nephew if blood says what we think it says.”
That lands.
Legend ain’t calm about this.
He is holding it by the throat.
Amelia ain’t only mine to worry over.