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Slow. Loose. Looking like a man who just tasted victory and is trying not to brag about it.

Except that man doesn’t just look like he got laid. He looks like he broke something doing it.

Maple trails in after him like a woman who has no regrets, no shame, and maybe no bones left in her legs. She drapes herself against Wade like she needs a cowboy crutch and he just smiles down at her like she’s the sweetest damn thing to ever kidnap a man and steal his livestock.

I salute. “Welcome to the harem, brother,” I say, cue in one hand, beer in the other. “She break you in good?”

Brock doesn’t answer. Not with words. Just gives me a look that could sand the paint off a truck and makes a beeline for the far wall, arms crossed, like he hasn’t just been baptized in our queen’s divine syrup.

Maple just beams at me, all smug and sparkly-eyed, then turns her face into Wade’s chest and sighs like a woman who got rearranged properly and is still floating.

Wade kisses the top of her head like the goddamn cinnamon roll he is.

“Kind of rude you didn’t invite any of us,” Evan mutters, sinking another shot like he’s not picturing what we could’ve done in that armory.

I laugh, full-body and shameless. “Goddamn, Doc, give the grumpy bastard his solo moment. Let the man feel special.”

Maple peeks up at Wade, all mock-innocent and wrecked.

Wade raises an eyebrow. “Wait, hold on. Group time was an option?”

“You just got here,” I point out, cueing up my next shot. “Put in your damn time and Evan and I might let you tag in on a playdate.”

“Fuck’s sake,” Evan says, deadpan.

I lean over the table, hips swaying on purpose. “Brock’s got your feral energy, Doc. It’s a little hot.”

I sink the ball. Clean. Totally on purpose. Probably. Then I grin at Maple. “What do you say, sweetheart? Me and Wade heat up your syrup while Evan whispers snark into your ear?”

She snorts, biting her lip like she’s trying not to look too into it. Fails miserably. Girl’s glowing like a full moon.

Brock, still posted up near the wall, finally speaks. Voice low. Steady. “Don’t stay up too late.”

And that’s it. That’s the whole sentence. But he says it like he owns the air in the room now.

“We need to talk security plans tomorrow,” he goes on. “I want to see how you four handle a gun. And we need to bring Holden into this fold. Shit outside’s bad enough. We don’t need problems on the inside too.”

I whistle. “See? Told you. Brock or Holden had the Daddy Vibes.”

Evan doesn’t even look up. “Pretty sure Brock could kill a man with a spoon.”

Wade shrugs. “Guess we better not let him near the cereal.”

Maple giggles, actual, full-on giggles, and it punches me in the heart.

She looks at all of us like we’re her prize collection.

And I know I should be worried. I mean, sure. I got drugged and dragged into an underground bunker by a woman who bought my favorite cologne and installed a generator just so I’d fix it shirtless. But looking around at these half-wild, lunatics, it kind of feels like home.

The moment Maple settles herself onto the pool table, one sock on, Evan’s shirt half-buttoned, hair like she’s been worshipped by a bear and a lumberjack at the same time, I know this night’s about to go completely off the rails.

And I am so here for it.

Wade’s lining up a shot, twirling the cue between those big farm-boy hands like it’s foreplay. “If I can sink the three with two banks,” he says, casual as hell, “I’m in the next group that gets her naked.”

Maple grins from the table like a queen with no intention of stopping her knights from jousting over who gets to go down on her first.

I raise a hand. “Before we let the cowboy into our sin circle, full disclosure, him and Evan are sharks.”