25. Greer #2
The simple statement does something to my chest, makes it impossible to breathe for a second. Then I'm kissing her back, trying to convey everything I can't quite say yet—gratitude, devotion, love that's tangled up with violence and sex and trust.
When we break apart, her eyes are softer. "Come on. Before I lose my nerve."
We walk to the front door together, my hand at the small of her back. Hayes must have been watching because he opens before I can knock, that knowing smirk already in place.
"About time." He steps aside, letting us in. "Lilah's been pacing for an hour."
"Nervous to meet me or nervous for Greer?" Zaria's voice is dry, controlled.
"Both." Hayes's eyes flick between us, assessing. "But mostly curious. Greer doesn't bring people around."
"I'm not people," Zaria says quietly. "I'm his."
The possessive phrasing makes Hayes's smirk widen. "Yeah. I can see that. Come in—everyone's in the kitchen."
We follow him through the house I know almost as well as my own.
The space smells like garlic and wine, domestic and warm in a way that contrasts sharply with the violence Hayes is capable of.
It's a reminder that all of us—me, Hayes, Heath—we're living double lives.
Dangerous when necessary, but grounded in love and family.
The kitchen opens up before us, and I take in the scene: Lilah at the counter chopping vegetables, Ella sitting at the island with a wine glass, Heath leaning against the sink watching everything with that quiet intensity he never quite shakes. All three look up when we enter.
Lilah's eyes go straight to me, scanning for damage like she always does. I see the moment she registers the fading bruises, the splints finally off my fingers, the way I'm moving more carefully than usual. Her face does something complicated—relief, fear, resignation.
Then her gaze shifts to Zaria, and the tension ratchets up immediately.
"Lilah." I step forward, pulling Zaria with me. "This is Zaria. Zaria, my sister Lilah."
"It's good to finally meet you properly." Zaria's voice is steady, respectful. "Greer talks about you constantly."
Lilah sets down the knife carefully, studying Zaria with the same intensity I use when analyzing data. She's looking for signs of manipulation, control, the things Dylan used. But Zaria just stands there, calm and open, letting herself be examined.
"You run Bennett territory," Lilah says finally.
"I do." No apology, no excuse. "My father's in federal prison. Someone had to hold it together."
"And you got my brother involved in that world."
"No." Zaria's voice sharpens fractionally. "Your brother inserted himself into my world. Repeatedly. I tried to keep him out—told him to leave, warned him it was dangerous, pushed him away. He came back every single time. Because he wanted to."
The honesty cuts through the tension. Lilah's eyes flick to me, questioning.
"She's right." I move closer to my sister, needing her to understand. "I chased her for weeks. She didn't manipulate me, didn't trap me. I made every choice with full knowledge of what I was doing."
"You got kidnapped," Lilah says softly. "Tortured."
"By someone trying to hurt Zaria." I don't flinch from the memory. "And yeah, it was bad. But Zaria came for me. She and Cain tore through that building, and when it was over, the people who hurt me were dead. That's protection, Lilah. Not abuse."
Silence stretches while my sister processes this. Then Ella breaks it, her voice bright and warm.
"Well, I think it's lovely that you're here." She hops off the stool, moving around the island to offer her hand. "I'm Ella. Heath's wife. And I'm thrilled to meet the woman who finally got Greer to stop pining over his work crush."
Zaria shakes her hand, surprise flickering across her face. "Work crush?"
"Sarah from accounting." Ella grins at my mortified expression. "He used to mention her constantly. Then suddenly—nothing. We all knew something had changed."
"I met someone better," I say flatly, pulling Zaria closer. "Sarah's nice. Zaria's extraordinary."
The possessive phrasing makes Ella's grin widen. She leans closer to Zaria conspiratorially. "He's completely gone for you. It's actually kind of adorable."
"Ella," Heath warns from his position by the sink. But his voice is amused rather than stern.
"What? It's true." Ella returns to her wine glass, settling back on the stool. "Besides, anyone who can handle the insanity of dating someone connected to this world deserves respect. It's not easy."
"No," Zaria agrees quietly. "It's not. But Greer makes it worth it."
The simple honesty in her voice does something to the room's atmosphere. I feel the tension ease fractionally, see Lilah's shoulders drop slightly. Hayes catches my eye from where he's leaning against the doorframe, that knowing smirk still in place.
"Dinner's almost ready." Lilah turns back to the vegetables, but her voice is warmer. "Greer, set the table? Zaria, you can help if you want."
It's an olive branch, an invitation into the domestic space. Zaria squeezes my hand once, then moves to join Lilah at the counter. "What do you need me to do?"
And just like that, we're folded into the evening.
I grab plates from the cabinet while Hayes pours wine, Heath and Ella talking quietly about some family business I'm not privy to.
The kitchen fills with the comfortable chaos of people who know each other well, and Zaria navigates it with surprising ease.
She asks Lilah about her literature classes, listens when Ella describes wedding planning drama from a year ago, even manages to make Heath crack a smile with a dry comment about territory negotiations.
It's surreal—watching my girlfriend trade conversation with my family like violence and crime aren't the foundation of every relationship in this room.
But maybe that's the point. We're all living double lives, all balancing darkness with domesticity. Zaria fits because she understands that balance in a way outsiders never could.
Dinner happens around Hayes's table, the six of us crowded together with good food and better wine. The conversation flows naturally—books Lilah's reading, Ella's ongoing feud with Heath's aunt about something trivial, Hayes giving me shit about my empty house.
"You should sell it," he says, refilling my glass. "Not like you're using it."
"We're looking at places together," I say before I can stop myself. "Something closer to the city."
The table goes quiet for a beat. Then Lilah smiles—tentative but genuine. "That's good. You shouldn't be alone in that house."
"I haven't been alone in months." I look at Zaria, finding her amber eyes already on me. "Been with her every night."
"How sickeningly sweet," Hayes deadpans. But his eyes are knowing, amused. He sees exactly what this is—the same intensity he has for Lilah, that absolute certainty that makes everything else irrelevant.
The evening continues, easy and warm, and I watch Zaria gradually relax.
Her shoulders lose their tension, her responses come quicker, and once she even laughs at something Ella says.
It's the most normal I've seen her in weeks, and something about that makes my chest tight with emotion I can't quite name.
This is what I wanted. Her in my world the way I'm in hers. Both of us building something that bridges the gap between violence and domesticity, between darkness and light.
After dinner, we help clean up—Zaria insisting on doing dishes despite Lilah's protests.
I dry while they wash, listening to my sister tell stories about Hayes's terrible cooking when they first got together.
It's comfortable, domestic, and I catch Zaria glancing at me like she can't quite believe this is real.
When we finally leave around eleven, full and pleasantly buzzed, Lilah hugs me tight at the door. "She's good for you," she whispers against my shoulder. "I can see it. Just... be careful, okay?"
"Always." I press a kiss to her hair. "Love you."
"Love you too."
Hayes walks us to the car, hands in his pockets. "That went well."
"Yeah." I look back at the house where warm light spills from the windows. "Thanks for having us."
"Family's important." His eyes shift to Zaria. "Take care of him. He's more fragile than he looks."
"I know." Zaria's voice is soft. "And I will."
Hayes nods once, satisfied, then heads back inside. I reach for Zaria's hand, pulling her into me.
"Thank you." Her voice is soft. "For letting me into your world. For making me part of your family."
"Thank you for trying." I cup her face, tilting it up. "I know that was hard."
"Worth it though." She presses up on her toes, kissing me slow and deep. "You're worth it."
I kiss her back, trying to convey everything I feel—gratitude, devotion, the bone-deep certainty that this woman is exactly where I'm meant to be. We've built something extraordinary out of violence and passion, strategy and trust. Now we're building something even more important.
A life. Together. Complete with family dinners and inside jokes and the comfortable domesticity that exists alongside the darkness.
Perfect.