Page 32 of Thunder's Reckoning

But all I could think about was her.

***

DEVIL CUT HISengine first. Sound died quick, swallowed up by the thick Carolina air. He swung off his bike slow, like every move he made had weight behind it, the kind that hushes a room before a single word gets spoke.

Mystic wasn’t far behind. Yanked his helmet off, face as unreadable as ever, eyes already scoutin’ the place like he was fixin’ to rob it blind. Didn’t say a damn thing. Just watchin’. Typical.

I stepped forward a couple paces, arms hangin’ loose at my sides. No sense lookin’ defensive. No sense lookin’ guilty, even if I was. Least guilty of not askin’.

“Mornin’,” I said, keepin’ my tone even. “Wasn’t expectin’ company this early.”

Devil slid his shades down just far enough for me to catch those red eyes. Still didn’t know if that was bloodline or some trick of light, but either way, they cut straight through a man’s bullshit.

“Didn’t expect you to be playing house either,” he drawled. Not angry. Just Devil, direct as a blade. He never wasted words.

Mystic stayed quiet. Just folded his arms, lookin’ past me toward the porch. Toward the door Sable had just slippedbehind. His eyes caught on somethin’—maybe the curtain shiftin’, maybe that swing rockin’ just a touch like somebody’d left in a hurry.

Tension tightened in the air. Could damn near hear it hum.

“She yours?” Devil asked.

No judgment. Just that flat, cold curiosity he used when he already had half the answer and was waitin’ to see if you’d lie.

“She’s nobody’s,” I told him. “Just needed help.”

“Didn’t think you made a habit of picking up strays.”

“Yeah, well,” I said, holdin’ his stare. “She’s not a stray. She’s runnin’ from somethin’. Came in late, two kids in the backseat, car held together with hope and duct tape. Couldn’t leave her like that. Not on the side of the road.”

Devil gave a slow nod. Like he’d already pieced most of it together but wanted to hear me say it. He always did that, let a man hang himself with his own rope if he wasn’t careful.

“You know the rules, Thunder. Who stays in that house, and why.”

“I know,” I admitted. “And I should’ve asked first. But I’ve seen real fear, and she’s wearin’ it. Whatever’s after her, it’s big. She’s not trouble, but she’s got trouble followin’ close behind.”

Mystic’s voice broke the quiet, low and smooth. “You check for a tail?”

“Yeah. First thing. Took the long way here, watched my mirrors the whole damn ride. Nothin’ followed.” I paused. “Whoever’s huntin’ her, they ain’t caught up yet.”

Mystic nodded once, arms still crossed, but his eyes flicked back to that door.

“She looked spooked when we pulled in,” Devil said. “Like we might hurt her.”

“She’s skittish,” I answered. “Don’t know who to trust. She was just about to open up when y’all rolled in.”

Devil stepped past me, boots crunchin’ gravel, slow and measured. Didn’t go inside. Just stood there takin’ it all in, the siding, the windows, that swing swayin’ soft. Like he could read her ghost clear through the wood.

Then he turned, jaw set. “We don’t take in ghosts, Thunder. If somebody’s hunting her, it turns into our fight. That’s not a fire I start easy.”

“I wouldn’t’ve brought her here if I didn’t think she was worth it,” I said, steady.

Devil stared me down long and hard, the kind of look that strips a man to his bones and weighs what’s left. Finally, he cut his gaze to Mystic.

“I trust him,” Mystic said with a shrug. “And he trusts her. That’s enough—for now.”

Devil gave one short nod. “Keep her outta sight. We don’t need fresh fires while we’re still putting out old ones.”

“Understood.”