The room is too quiet now, pretending not to listen and listening to every word.
I step closer to Diablo, close enough to smell leather and anger and the soap from his shower.
“You told me I was not your secret,” I say.
“You’re not.”
“You told me I could choose.”
“You can.”
“Then hear my choice. I’m not sitting upstairs like a doll while men decide which parts of me survive.”
His face shutters.
His hand lifts toward my face.
He stops before touching the bruise.
Then, slowly, he lowers his hand.
“What are you asking for?” he says.
Not ordering.
Asking.
“I’m asking to help Alpha from here. I know Lady. I know her rhythms. I know her references. If she sends another clue, I might catch what you miss.”
Alpha speaks before Diablo can. “She’s right.”
Diablo turns his head slowly.
Alpha doesn’t even pretend to care. “Darling has context none of us do.”
Shady’s voice comes from near the table. “She stays with Alpha.”
Diablo looks at him.
Shady’s eyes stay on me. “Not prospects. Alpha. Key Rat on the door. Two guns outside. She helps from here.”
Diablo exhales through his nose.
“Fine.”
It is not happy.
It is enough.
The room explodes into movement. Guns checked. Cuts pulled on. Phones ringing. Bikes roaring alive outside until the stained glass trembles. The Saints Outlaws wake like a beast let loose.
Cherry starts crying again when Magic hauls her up.
“Where are you taking me?” she asks.
Magic’s smile isn’t kind. “Somewhere you can explain your choices without an audience.”
She looks to Shady.