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Bodhi somehow finds and shrugs into a fresh t-shirt like we’re late for brunch, not dealing with the fallout of abduction and cartel war. “So what you’re saying is, we don’t have time for a shower orgy?”

I glare at him.

Matteo’s already at the mirror. “We have under three minutes to look less like we just had a cartel execution preceded by feral sex in the woods.”

“Then you better move fast,Ruin,” I snap, hopping into pants with more frustration than grace.

By the time we scramble toward the front door, we’re still rumpled, but not bleeding. Mostly clothed. Not actively fucking.

So, progress.

I can hear the rumble of tires—engines cutting off, doors slamming.

My stomach flips.

Fuck.

I throw open the door and step outside just in time to seethem.

My parents.

Armed. Angry. Dangerous.

Dad’s got a sidearm on his hip, Papa has a gleaming knife drawn, Mom’s got her gun plus a crossbody harness—which Iknowhas at least two knives in it—and they all look seconds away from declaring a personal war zone.

Uncle Max is with them. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen him with a gun.

They’re storming toward the house like they’re ready to breach and clear.

I throw my hands up and march forward quickly.

“I’m okay. I’m fine,” I say loudly. “Everybody calm the fuck down.”

They all stop.

They all give me the exact same look.

A mixture of exasperation, disbelief, and sheer parental rage barely held in check.

Then—I hear the footsteps behind me.

I don’t have to turn. I know who they are.

Bodhi’s the first to step into view.

Mom squints, and then her mouth opens in shock. “Bodhi?”

Shit.

Uncle Max is a half-step behind her. His face shifts instantly from confusion to shock to something far more rattled. His eyes widen.

“Huxley??”

Everything halts.

All eyes land onMatteo—still brushing dirt from his sleeves, hair a mess, shirt half-tucked.

He looks up.