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Nix told them that’s where his and Luca’s bonds sit—the place his “gut feelings”come from.

Gideon’s knot slips out, as fast as it ever has—who knew shame would trigger it to deflate prematurely?

“Nowhere,” he mutters, rolling onto his back and throwing an arm over his burning eyes, well aware that his behavior is making a liar out of his words.

“Look at me, please.”

He can deny him nothing, and when he opens his eyes, Nix is sitting cross-legged beside him on the bed, a hand on his protruding belly; it seems to have grown since they left the hospital, as if their second child has had enough of hiding and wants everyone to know they’re there, too.

“Gideon.”

It’s just one word, and it’s not full of disappointment, nor is it even a question; a single word that Gideon knows is both a demand for truth and a statement of understanding.

It’s a strange combination, but he shouldn’t be surprised.

If anyone would understand his drive for—whatever this is that has him out at night at the expense of his sanity and the comfort of those he loves—it would be Nix Rena, bringer of justice.

He also shouldn’t be surprised that he just tells him the truth, either.

“I’ve been looking for Carnell.”

“I know. Well, I didn’t know exactly, but you’ve been lying. Badly,” Nix states, but he tilts his head to the side in question.

“You’re home tonight for the first time in weeks—months, even. Did you find him?”

“You knew? Does everyone know? Fuck, Kitten. Have I been sneaking around, trying to keep you all out of it for nothing?”

“No, I don’t think anyone knew for sure except maybe Jamie. I suspected it had to be something you didn’t want us to know, and I worried that it might be somethingbad. The others don’t know what it’s like. They don’t know what it’s like to need justice, to feel such burning hatred for someone that you need to finish it with their death.

“Jay, too?”

“Well, not the hatred-fear-vengeance thing. Although I think he felt something like it back in October for the Rhodes. But you know Jamie. He’s no killer. Too forgiving. Too focused on us in the here and now.”

Gideon didn’t know about that.

Nix hadn’t seen him with Carnell the first time they’d met, and Carnell had pressed the only button Jay had that would trigger a potential disemboweling: his mates’ immediate safety.

But even then, Jay had iron self-control and was always ten steps ahead—like the fucking genius he is. Which begs the question: “He knows I’ve been out looking. Why hasn’t he said anything? Stepped in?”

Stopped him.

He has before.

“You’ll have to ask him that, but he’s been following you, I think. He’s been out some of the same nights as you. I could see him on the family security app, even when I couldn’t see you.” Nix raises a chastising eyebrow.

“Fuck, Kitten. I’m sorry.”

Nix squints his eyes again and takes Gideon’s hand in his. “For what?”

That’s a good question.

He can’t be sorry for hunting Carnell down, and given Nix’s recent feelings on his own vengeance and ultimate act of freedom, he knows he wouldn’t believe him—or even accept an apology—for that.

So what was he sorry for?

“I’m sorry for leaving you all out of it. For thinking I had to do it on my own. For abandoning you to Leo’s cooking for three months.”

It makes Nix smile, but he nods. “And?”