Jace
Ican’t see straight.
The second the door shuts behind us and the groceries are out of my hands, I begin pacing. The loft feels like a cage, and the person poking me through the bars keeps showing up to prod me more.
Kieran places the eggs on the counter with a practiced ease that pisses me off, and he turns back toward the door to arm the security system.
Silas disappears down the hall without a word, which means servers or drywall are about to suffer…
Depending on what he does or doesn’t find when he starts checking the hardware for the crypto.
And Eris?
She flits around the kitchen, unloading groceries and finding their places, as if the world didn’t just crack open in the garage.
Unfazed.
She doesn’t give a fuck about what’s going on with us as she folds Kieran’s reusable bags and turns on the stove. I watch her move with zero tension, pulling out the carton of eggs and a pan, before she stops to tie her hair in her signature messy knot with a quick twist of her wrist.
My jaw locks, keeping all my questions and aggression inside my fucking mouth until I can calm down.
Eris cracks the eggs one-handed and rifles through the spice rack so she can season them with something other than salt and pepper. I realize watching her is… Odd like this. And it’s calming me down more than I would expect.
She flips the eggs in the pan with a smooth motion that has no right being as graceful as it is. Especially after what just happened.
But she hums as she cooks, like she wasn’t just informed that our stalker exes are swapping notes about her. Like she wasn’t called sloppy seconds with a smile.
She. Fucking. Hums.
Kieran sits at the counter, watching her as if she might start glowing or detonating or do something mildly suspicious. Silas comes back into the kitchen, slightly calmer than expected as he leans against the wall, arms crossed with his normal expression of carved stone.
And Eris moves through it all like a slow-building hurricane stuck in temperate waters. She’s calm, but there’s something lethal in the way she removes the knife from the block and sets it on the counter beside the container of strawberries she left out.
The pan hisses, and she gives the eggs one more flip before she plates them. Light glints off the blade of the paring knife as she starts slicing strawberries with the precision of a surgeon.
And that’s it.
I can’t take the silence any longer.
“Are you really going to act like none of that just happened?” I inquire, admittedly more perplexed than angry now.
She glances at me as she sets the knife in the sink, and there’s no fear or surprise or frustration in her expression. In fact, she looks… Amused by my question.
“Which part?” she asks lightly, setting her plate on the island and taking a seat on a stool.
“The part where she called me a used-up girl toy? Or the part where she showed us her cards instead of keeping them close to her chest? Or the part where she claims to have stolen something incredibly valuable from you?”
I furrow my brow at her, but I also stop pacing, going completely still as I think about putting my fist through something expensive just to exercise the demons left in my chest.
“You’re smiling.” I don’t mean it to sound like an accusation, but it does.
“Mm-hmm.” She takes a bite of her eggs and shrugs. “I’m trying to decide if this is a late breakfast or a strategy meeting. But either way, I needed some protein before I got hangry.”
“What?” I glance at the guys and back to her. “What does that mean?”
Kieran props his chin on his palm, elbows on the counter, as he studies her. “Why are you so calm?”
Eris snorts and purses her lips. “Because you’re all furious, and that makes me feel safe.”
Silence.
Utter fucking silence is what we all give.
The kind that presses in on your ears, making them ache for noise of some kind.
Eris looks up at us after a moment, taking stock of our reactions and reading the room she already understands all too well. Her lips quirk in the slowest smile I’ve ever witnessed crawl across anyone’s face, but it’s not nice or gentle.
“Do you want me to scream?” she asks, her voice nearly a whisper. “Cry? Fall apart so you can feel justified about what you’re going to do?”
“No,” Silas says just as quietly.
I don’t even have the time to ask her what we’re about to do because she keeps talking.
“Good. I didn’t think you would.” She sets her fork down and stands, moving to the sink. “Listen. I’m not broken, so there’s nothing to fix in me. But I am done playing nice, and that comes with… Possibilities.”
Resolve. That’s what we’re seeing.
She’s made a decision about something, and we’re getting two options. Are we along for the ride? Or are we in her way?
I lean against the table and observe her washing her dishes, back turned to us like she doesn’t have a worry in the world. We would never hurt her, but I get the feeling she isn’t threatened either. She’s been like this since we met her, and I’ve never quite put my finger on why. Or how…
“You do realize, when you say strategy meeting, that implies plans,” I remark, the last of my frustration bleeding away with all my energy. “Contingencies. Lines that might get crossed. Consequences.”
Her eyes flick to mine in a look so sharp I catch myself leaning back.
“I know what it means,” she tells me. “I’m just wondering how far you guys are actually willing to go to solve problems. Does it stop at cyber-stalking? Or is that where it begins?”
The question sits there, a landmine waiting for one of us to step on it.
Kieran straightens. Silas doesn’t move, but the muscle along his jaw ticks.
I don’t look away from her.
“As far as it takes,” I say carefully. “But don’t confuse that with us deciding for you. However you want to handle your problem with—”
“I don’t need you to save me,” she interrupts. Her smile softens just a fraction as she shakes her head. “That’s not even close to what I need. Or what I want.”
“No,” Kieran agrees. “You need allies with a common goal.”
“Are you ready to be that?” Eris asks him, and for a moment she looks genuinely thoughtful, as if there’s something else she wants to say, but isn’t sure she should. “Do we have common goals?”
Silas huffs a humorless laugh. “Eris, you walked into our lives like an explosion, and now you’re turning the kitchen into a war room. Tell us what you want.”
“Are you hungry?” She nods toward the stove. “You should eat before we plan casualties. I’ll cook.”
“You’re terrifying.” I sigh in exhaustion as I pull out a chair and drop into it. “And it’s ridiculous that I find it hot.”
She scoffs, though it sounds more sarcastic than disbelieving. “Didn’t I tell you I was your type?”