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A surprised laugh escapes me, “Don't test me. I still might.”

His smile grows more genuine, a rare sight these days that makes something flutter in my chest. “I wouldn't dare.”

The tension in the room has shifted, no longer crackling with unspoken accusations but something softer, more manageable. Ilook at Zaire—really look at him—and see beyond the protective enforcer to the exhausted man beneath.

“When was the last time you actually slept?” I ask, noticing the way he sways slightly, fatigue evident in every line of his body.

He shrugs, deflecting. “I'm fine.”

“That's not what I asked.” I exhale slowly. “Lie down with me.”

His eyebrows lift in surprise. “I thought you wanted space.”

“I do. But you need sleep, and I…” I hesitate, then admit the truth. “I don’t want to sleep alone with the nightmares again.”

He hesitates only briefly before toeing off his shoes and stretching his body alongside mine. The bed dips under his weight, and I find myself instinctively turning toward him like a flower seeking sunlight. He keeps a careful few inches between us, respecting the invisible boundary we've just negotiated.

“This doesn't solve everything.” I watch as he settles his head on the pillow beside mine.

“No,” he agrees, his voice already softening with the pull of exhaustion. “But it's a start.”

OSCAR

The buzzof my phone drags me from a dreamless sleep, the screen illuminating the darkness of my room like an unwelcome intruder. Ricky.

10 p.m.

1453 Blackstone Avenue. Apartment 3B.

I check the time on my phone. Six o’clock in the afternoon. We’ve got four hours until the meet up to prep. Groaning, Iswing my legs over the side of the bed. My mouth tastes like death, and my head is still foggy.

I send off a quick text to confirm I got the message, then head to the bathroom. The cold water I splash on my face does little to invigorate me, but the shower that follows helps. I dress quickly in a t-shirt and sweats before heading out of my room.

Talon stands at the stove, his back to me as he expertly flips what looks like a grilled cheese sandwich in the pan. His bun is slightly disheveled, a few loose strands falling around his face as he concentrates on not burning our dinner.

“Sleeping Beauty awakens,” he says without turning around. “I was beginning to think you'd miss dinner.”

I grab a bottle of water from the fridge and take a long swig before responding. “Got a text from Ricky. Meeting tonight at ten.”

Talon slides the sandwich onto a plate and turns to face me, his expression carefully neutral. “Where?”

“Blackstone Avenue.”

“Better make it a quick meal then.” He places the plate on the counter. “We'll need time to prep."

I nod, already turning toward the hallway. “I'll grab Z. Alex is your problem.”

“He's not in his room,” Talon calls after me, his voice carrying a hint of amusement that makes me pause.

I turn back, raising an eyebrow. “Where is he?"

“Where do you think?" Talon smirks, cutting his sandwich in half with more force than necessary. “He's been in Vesper's room for the last two hours.”

I roll my eyes, trying to ignore the twist of something uncomfortably like jealousy in my gut. He circled his wagons around her the second Mario’s corpse was taken care of, and even with Vesper’s request to let her sleep alone, he couldn’tabide by it. And he called me the clingy bastard between the two of us.

“Of course he is.”

“Don’t worry. She read him the riot act before she let him stay.”