Chapter 39 Code Name- Dumbass
Chapter Thirty Nine
Code Name- Dumbass
— Sunday —
I’m sitting cross-legged on the couch, laptop balanced precariously on one knee, trying to wrangle the chaos of two homes, four mates, one child, and a very good dog.
Sumi’s off with Mishka, Ben, and Tomas at the packhouse. Meanwhile, the new cars are still being fitted with—and I’m not joking here—bulletproof doors and emergency blood packs. Which means they took my baby for a spin.
The door swings open, and Colton strides in like he owns the place. He kicks off his boots by the entrance, jacket already half off before he spots me on the couch.
“Hey, Sunny D!”
Of course he’s using my least favorite of his many nicknames.
There’s something off in his vibe—too bright, too purposeful. My brother hides his nerves behind a smile, but I know him well enough to see when he’s trying a little too hard.
I glance up from my laptop. “What’s up, Colt?”
“Just thought I’d stop by. You know, see how my favorite sister is holding up.”
I arch a brow and set the laptop aside. “Lily’s your favorite, and we all know it. What do you want?”
“What makes you think I want something?” He flops into the armchair like it’s his throne, stretching out and kicking one leg over the other.
I give him a flat look. “Because you never just stop by.”
He chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck. “Fair point. But hey, nice to see you too.”
I open my mouth to reply, but he cuts me off, tone turning way too casual. “Where are the Backstreet Boys?”
It takes me a second. Then I roll my eyes. “Seriously?”
“What?” He shrugs, still grinning. “Figured I should get specific, and Tomas has big Kevin energy.”
“They’re at the packhouse,” I say, smothering a laugh. “Giving the hound a run and fixing Gray’s door.”
Colton’s grin fades slightly, his brows pulling together. “So you’re alone?”
Before I can answer, a voice cuts in from the kitchen.
“No, she’s not.”
Shadow steps into view, a wooden spoon in one hand, amusement sharpening their features. “But thanks for the concern, big brother.”
Colton stiffens, his smile flickering back into place a little too quickly. “Hey, X,” he says, voice steady, but his fingers tap against the arm of the chair. He doesn’t look at them directly, his gaze shifting back to me instead.
Not for the first time, I notice how… wary he seems around my jaguar. I don’t get it. Sure, Shadow can be intense, but they’re my rock—steady, reliable, and a total goof. If anything, Colton should get along with them better than anyone.
“Xavier’s making dinner,” I say, breaking the awkwardness. “That’s what you’re smelling. And no, I don’t know what it is. Something fancy, I think.”
Xavier smirks, leaning against the doorway. “Pepian. Guatemalan stew with tomatoes, chilies, and roasted seeds. It’s at the delicate stage now, so…”
They gesture back toward the kitchen, tone smooth. “Excuse me.”
Without waiting for a response, they disappear around the corner, leaving us in charged silence.
I study Colton, letting my gift brush against him like the faintest breeze. He’s bursting with something—news, plots, or maybe both. It swirls around him like static electricity, sparking just beneath the surface.
“So,” I say, narrowing my eyes, “what did you do?”
He grins, fingers drumming an easy rhythm on the arm of the chair. “Who says I did anything?”
“Colt.” I close the laptop with a soft snap and set it aside. “Spit it out.”
He hesitates, fingers twitching, and that’s when I know. Whatever this is, it’s not small.
“I need to talk to you,” he says finally, his voice quieter. “Privately.”
The weight in his tone makes my stomach dip. I push up from the couch, nodding toward the dining room. “Alright. Let’s go.”
He follows me in. The pocket doors slide shut with a soft thunk, muffling the clatter from the kitchen. Now, it’s just the two of us, the dim light pooling over the table. I drop into a chair, arms crossed, and nod toward the seat across from me.
Colton doesn’t sit right away. His gaze veers to the centerpiece—our unfortunate taxidermied possum clutching plastic daisies today. He touches its hairless tail and shivers.
“Really, Sunny? A possum?” He tilts his head like he’s waiting for it to blink.
“Mishka gave it to me. It’s precious.” My tone is dry as I tap my fingers on the table. “Sit down.”
“If you say so.” He mutters, setting it down carefully—but not before adjusting the daisies.
“Colton,” I prompt, arms still crossed. “You’re stalling.”
“Alright, fine.” He drops into the chair and exhales sharply, finally meeting my eyes. “It’s about Silas.”
My arms tighten as I lean back. Not what I was expecting. “What about him? Wait… did you meet him when you were in Dae?”
“I did. We all kind of, um… hung out.”
I blink, certain I didn’t hear him right. “Wait, wait, wait. So when he wasn’t working for the woman who’s literally trying to murder me, you did what—hit up a tavern or two?”
Colton shifts in his chair, but his grin stays mostly intact. “Yeah, we did. I don’t think he knew who we were. We used code names.”
“Code names?” I echo, incredulous. I hope one of them was Dumbass.
“Look, that doesn’t matter.” He’s starting to bristle, so I ease back.
“He wants to talk to you.” The words rush out like he’s ripping off a Band-Aid. “He’s, uh, got something he needs to say.”
I stare at him, waiting for the punchline. It doesn’t come. “Are you serious?”
“Dead serious.” His grin fades completely now. “Sunny, he’s not the monster you think he is.”
“Oh, really?” My voice turns sharp, but I don’t care. “Was it the attempt on my life or the partnership with Roxana that convinced you? Because from where I’m sitting, he’s ticking a lot of villain boxes.”
“Look, I know what it sounds like—” Colton starts, hands up like he’s trying to calm a wild animal.
“No,” I cut him off, leaning forward. “You don’t. Because if you did, you wouldn’t be asking me to entertain this.”
His expression softens, just enough to make my chest tighten. “Sunny,” he says quietly, “I think he wants to fix things. I felt it. He isn’t lying.”
I shake my head, leaning back. “You think, or you know?”
“It means he’s hurting,” Colton insists, his voice growing more earnest. “Maybe he doesn’t know how to make it right, but he’s trying. His dragon—” He pauses, rubbing the back of his neck, uncertainty flickering across his face. “His dragon is a wreck.”
I narrow my eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means dragons don’t take this lightly.” Colton leans in, arms braced on the table. “He didn’t know who you were back then. Didn’t know you were… what you are to him. And now his dragon’s all kinds of messed up. He can’t let it go. And I don’t think Silas can, either.”
I cross my arms, trying to smother the flicker of unease his words stir. “So what? He wants to apologize because his dragon’s having a midlife crisis?”
Colton shakes his head, his gaze serious. “It’s not like that. It’s… deeper. I saw it in Dae. The way he carries it—like this weight he can’t put down. I know you’ve got every reason to hate him, but he’s not doing this lightly. He means it, and I’m tellin’ ya, he’s got a good heart. It may be covered is some rusty barbed wire…but he’s good.”
“That’s easy for you to say,” I snap. “You weren’t front-row when he tried to barbecue me.”
Colton exhales sharply. “I’m not saying you have to trust him. I’m saying… if he’s offering to fix this, maybe it’s worth hearing him out.”
I look at him, his eyes earnest, pleading. The weight in his tone, the way he talks about Silas and his dragon, makes it hard to dismiss outright. Even as I shake my head, I know I’m gonna try. Because he’s right: the upside is way higher than the downside. We could find out where Roxana is—or at least what her plans are.
“Fine,” I say, my voice flat. “But I’m not giving him my number.” Lord, Tomas would have kittens.
Colton pulls his phone from his pocket. “Not a problem. Use mine.” He slides it across the table, the message app already open to a blank screen.
“You’re really not giving me a choice, are you?” I mutter, picking up the phone.
“Nope,” he says, leaning back with a satisfied smile. “You’re gonna thank me for this. Eventually .”
“I doubt it.” My fingers hover over the keyboard as I debate what to say.
Colton’s grin widens as I type out the first message.
Sunday (Colton’s phone)
Colton said you wanted to talk. What do you want?
This is Sunday, by the way. You might remember me from the cavern.
Silas
Thank you for messaging me. I wasn’t sure you’d even read this.
Sunday
Get to the point.
Silas
I owe you an apology. I don’t expect you to forgive me, but I want to try to make things right.
Sunday
You tried to kill me. Why would I trust anything you say?
Silas
I didn’t know who you were then. I didn’t understand.
Sunday
And now you do?
Silas
My dragon hasn’t stopped mourning what we did to you. He’s… broken. And so am I.
I hesitate, rereading the message. My thumb hovers over the screen before I type back.
Sunday
What do you mean?
Silas
He’s inconsolable, and truthfully, I’m not much better.
I frown as real empathy stirs—mostly for his dragon, but a little for him too.
Sunday
What do you want from me, Silas?
Silas
The only way I can make this up to you is by helping you bring down Roxana.
I know where she is. And I have something that can help you.
My grip on Colton’s phone tightens.
Sunday
If that’s true, why didn’t you help us before?
Silas
I didn’t know. She lied about you.
Sunday
Well, that I believe.
Silas
Will you please consider meeting with me? We can meet in public.
I exhale sharply, my fingers flying across the screen.
Sunday
That isn’t enough. I’m not meeting you.
Silas
Please. The only way I can do this is face-to-face. Alone.
Sunday
Why alone?
Silas
My dragon is feral right now. If he senses one of your other mates, I won’t be able to control him.
I hesitate, chewing on my lip.
Sunday
What about Colton?
Silas
No, please. Just you. I’ll meet you anywhere, but I need to see you without anyone else.
Sunday
This is a terrible idea.
Silas
I know it sounds like it, but Sunday, I literally can’t hurt you.
I sigh, my shoulders sagging as I type my final message.
Sunday
Fine. Prescott Garage on Dominion Road. It’s close by, and public.
Silas
Thank you. I’ll be there in ten minutes. And congratulations.
I read the message twice, frowning. Congratulations? On what? The house? No.
Something about the phrasing feels off, but I don’t reply. I set the phone down, trying to ignore the uneasy twist in my gut.
***
The gravel crunches under my boots as I head toward the Prescott Garage. The warm evening air wraps around me like a blanket, the streets quiet—just the occasional car passing by. Most folks are sitting down to dinner.
I’m grateful for the stillness. It gives me space to think. Or, let’s be real, overthink.
This is fine, I tell myself for the hundredth time, adjusting the strap of my bag. This is good, actually. If Silas really has information about Roxana, meeting him could be a step toward fixing things. For all of us.
My stomach twists with anxiety, and I keep tripping over my own feet like I’m being pulled off balance. Just nerves. He wouldn’t have reached out if he wasn’t serious. Colton trusts him—and Colton’s usually right about people. Usually.
I fidget with the strap again, the familiar sign for the family business coming into view. I was smart to pick this place. Daddy’s doing inventory tonight, so I’m not actually alone. See? Very tricky.
It feels like a lifetime ago that I helped Dad patch up cars in one of these bays. Now I’m about to walk into what might as well be a supernatural diplomatic meeting. With your mate , my mind adds unhelpfully.
What if this goes really well? The thought slips in, unbidden, stubborn. I chew my lip, considering it. Silas and Tomas aren’t so different—both strong, brooding types who act like they carry the weight of the world. Maybe Tomas could even help him. They could… bond over it or something.
I snort softly. Ridiculous. But that doesn’t stop my mind from running with it.
If this works out, maybe Silas could live here. He’s already Colton’s friend, and what did Daddy say? That he felt like Silas was supposed to be here with us. Xavier wouldn’t like it, but Ben might. He’s always the first to offer second chances. Tomas, too, if Silas doesn’t push too hard. Grayson… well, Silas better sleep with one eye open.
By the time I reach the edge of the lot, I’ve almost convinced myself this is a good thing. A great thing, even.
All I have to do is hear him out and then we’ll be able to get this Roxana thing off the books and maybe I’ll finally have a dragon friend.