CHAPTER 23 COLBY
Iwatched Lottie's chest rise and fall with the steady rhythm of sleep. Her lips were parted slightly, one hand curled beneath her chin like a child. The weighted blanket we'd pulled over her earlier had slipped down to her waist.
Peaceful. She looked peaceful.
Not like a woman who'd been threatened at gunpoint hours ago.
My jaw clenched. The urge to wake her—to pull her into my arms and confirm she was still here, still ours, still safe—burned through my veins like wildfire.
But I stayed still. Watching.
Kaleb was on the far side of the bed, his back to us. But he wasn't sleeping. I could tell from the tension radiating through his shoulders. The way his fingers clutched the pillow beneath his head. He'd been restless for the last thirty minutes, shifting positions every few moments.
Thrashing.
The nightmares were back.
Fuck.
I hadn't seen him like this in years. Not since we'd started the club and he'd finally found purpose beyond his mother's poison. But now Patrice had wormed her way back into his life, threatening everything we'd built.
Threatening our girl.
Andrei sat motionless in the chair positioned to face the bed—what he jokingly called my "cuck chair" whenever I parked myself there to watch. But there was nothing sexual about his vigil tonight. His amber eyes tracked every shadow that moved beyond the windows. Every creak of the house settling.
He was on guard duty.
Protecting us all while we slept.
Except none of us were actually sleeping.
I slipped from beneath the covers as quietly as possible, padding across the plush carpet to sit on the edge of the bed near Andrei's chair. He didn't acknowledge me at first, his gaze never leaving the windows.
"Can't sleep either?" I kept my voice low, barely above a whisper.
"No." The single word came out rough. Tired. "You?"
I shook my head, clasping my hands between my knees. "Kaleb's nightmares are back."
Andrei's eyes finally shifted to meet mine. Something dark flickered in their depths—understanding tinged with helplessness. "I noticed."
Behind us, Kaleb let out a choked sound. His body jerked, limbs flailing briefly before he stilled again. The sheets twisted around his legs.
My chest tightened.
"He hasn't had them in what, five years?" I ran a hand through my short hair. "Not since we opened the Sandbox."
"Six," Andrei corrected. "Not since his father's anniversary. The tenth year after his death."
Right. I remembered now. We'd found Kaleb at three a.m. in the building's gym, punching the heavy bag until his knuckles bled. Wouldn't stop until Andrei physically dragged him away.
"This thing with Patrice is destroying him." The words tasted bitter on my tongue. "He's trying to hold it together for Lottie. For us. But I can see it eating at him."
Andrei nodded slowly, his gaze drifting back to the windows. "He's afraid she'll target Lottie again. More afraid than he'll admit."
"We all are."
"Yes."
Another beat of silence. Kaleb thrashed again, a muffled cry escaping his lips. Not loud enough to wake Lottie, but enough to make my hands clench into fists.
I wanted to fix this. Wanted to make it better the way I had for Lottie when David cornered her. When Viktor took her.
But this wasn't something I could fix with comfort or words or even my presence.
This was Kaleb's demon to face.
And that fucking killed me.
"I hate this," I muttered, low enough that only Andrei could hear. "Feeling useless. Knowing he's drowning and I can't—"
"You can't see someone else's demons to fight them." Andrei's voice held the weight of experience. Of someone who'd battled his own darkness and survived. "We can only stand beside him when he's ready to face them himself."
My throat tightened. "I know. Doesn't make it easier."
"No." A ghost of a smile touched Andrei's lips. "But we're here. That matters more than you think."
I turned to look at Kaleb again. In sleep, the carefully constructed mask he wore had slipped. The vulnerability etched across his features made him look younger. More like the twenty-something I'd met all those years ago in that dingy gym.
Before success. Before wealth. Before we'd learned to bury our pain beneath layers of control and distance.
Lottie had stripped away those layers for all of us.
For me, it was freedom. Permission to feel deeply again without shame.
For Andrei, it was redemption. A chance to believe he deserved love despite his blood-soaked past.
For Kaleb—
Kaleb still didn't believe he deserved her. Didn't believe he was worthy of the love she gave so freely.
Because Patrice had spent his entire life convincing him he was nothing. That he only had value in what he could provide. What he could buy. What he could do for her.
"He needs to cut her off completely," I said, voicing what we'd all been thinking. "Not just financially. Completely. No contact. No access. Nothing."
"I agree." Andrei's fingers drummed against the armrest. "But it has to be his choice. We can't force him."
"I know." I did know. Pushing Kaleb before he was ready would only make him retreat further into himself. "But watching him suffer—"
"Is part of loving him," Andrei finished quietly. "Sometimes love means standing witness to someone's pain because fighting their battles for them would only weaken them."
The truth of his words settled over me like a heavy blanket.
I rose from the bed's edge, crossing to sit in the chair opposite Andrei's. The cuck chair's twin—we'd moved a second one in after that first night, creating symmetry in the room.
"When did you get so fucking wise?" I asked, unable to keep the hint of amusement from my tone.
"Babushka." His lips quirked. "She always said wisdom comes from surviving your own hell first."
"Your grandmother is a smart woman."
"The smartest."
We lapsed back into silence. Comfortable this time. Two friends keeping vigil over their family.
Kaleb thrashed again, harder this time. The sheets tangled around his legs as he fought whatever nightmare plagued him. His mouth moved, forming words I couldn't hear.
But I didn't need to hear them to know what haunted him.
Patrice. Rupert. His father's death. The years of manipulation and guilt and never being enough.
Lottie shifted beside him, still asleep but seeking his warmth instinctively. Her hand splayed over his chest, right above his thundering heart.
The effect was immediate.
Kaleb's breathing slowed. His thrashing ceased. His face smoothed, the tension draining from his features as his unconscious mind registered her presence.
Her touch.
"She's good for him," Andrei murmured, having witnessed the same thing I had. "For all of us."
"The best thing that ever happened to us," I agreed, echoing his words from earlier.
My eyes burned with exhaustion, but I couldn't sleep. Wouldn't sleep. Not while Kaleb battled his demons. Not while the threat of Patrice still loomed despite her arrest.
Not while our girl needed us to be strong.
"Tomorrow will be hard," Andrei said, his voice carrying the weight of prophecy. "Marshall and Hardouin will need statements. The press might catch wind. Patrice will lawyer up."
"I know."
"But we'll face it together."
"Together," I confirmed.
The word had become our anchor. Our promise.
Whatever storms came, we'd weather them as a unit.
Kaleb. Andrei. Lottie. Me.
A family forged not by blood, but by choice. By love. By the willingness to stand together when everything tried to tear us apart.
I settled deeper into the chair, my eyes never leaving Lottie's sleeping form.
Tomorrow would come with its own battles.
But tonight, I'd keep watch.
Because that's what family did.