The table goes silent.
I feel Sophie’s gaze on me before she speaks.
“She’s right,” Sophie says.
The words hit harder than they should because I know she means them.
I turn to her.
Sophie doesn’t back down. She never has. Not from my temper. Not from my club. Not from my past. Not from the parts of me that still think love and control sometimes wear the same cut.
“She ran from a man who used protection as a cage,” Sophie says. “If you make every decision for her tonight, you become another locked door.”
My first instinct is anger.
Not at Sophie.
At the truth.
I look at Amelia. Her face is guarded again, but underneath it’s something rawer. She expects me to dismiss her. She’s braced for it. A woman gets that brace from practice.
I drag a hand over my beard. “Wildcat will check what you allow him to check.”
Surprise flickers across her face.
I keep going before anyone congratulates me for basic decency.
“But anything electronic gets inspected. Phone, tablet, GPS, kid toys with chips, all of it. If you don’t want a man going through clothes or personal boxes, Sophie can do it with him outside the door.”
Amelia swallows. “Okay.”
Sophie’s hand finds my thigh under the table and squeezes once.
A small thing.
A reward.
I don’t need rewards for acting like a civilized man.
I take it anyway.
Royal speaks from the wall. “The Oregon thing still bothers me.”
“Everything bothers you,” Derby says.
Royal ignores him. His eyes stay on Amelia. “You leave Lonerock in grade school. Come to Paducah. Your mother tells you Mike Welles is your father. Years later, you run to Hell. Soon after my sister shows up. Same names start getting dug out of places they were better left buried.”
Amelia looks between us. “I don’t know anything about your sister.”
“No,” Royal says. “I don’t suppose you do.”
His voice is mild.
Royal’s mild voice makes people nervous if they have sense.
Amelia has sense. She sits back a little.
I look at Royal. “You think they’re connected?”