Page 48 of Thunder's Reckoning

I didn’t push. I knew that tone too well. I’d said the same words once, sittin’ in someone else’s house, tryin’ not to take up too much space. Tryin’ not to look like I needed anything.

“You’re still a kid, Malik,” I said after a beat. “Don’t gotta be a man all the time.”

His eyes flicked up to mine. Guarded. Wary.

You don’t know Father Gabrial,” he muttered. “He said playing was a distraction from destiny.”

“Yeah, well,” I said, pickin’ up the remote and scrollin’ through the channels, “he ain’t here now. I am. And I got you somethin’ I think you’ll like more than a pile of toys.”

His eyes snapped to mine, a hint of surprise breakin’ through that stone mask. “What?”

“An Xbox. It’s a video game console,” I explained, holdin’ up a few games. “You can start with these, see what you like.”

He didn’t say a word. Just kept watchin’. But then he smiled. Small, cautious, but real, and his shoulders eased, just a little.

It was a start.

I glanced back at Sable. She caught my eye this time. Her smile faded, replaced by somethin’ quieter. Grateful. Maybe a little overwhelmed. Like someone finally set down a weight she’d been carryin’ too long.

I gave her a small nod and turned back to the screen. Landed on a cartoon with bright colors and awful jokes. Somethin’ mindless. Somethin’ safe.

“Zara’s gonna love this,” I said over my shoulder.

“I think she already does,” Sable replied softly.

She wasn’t talkin’ about the show.

***

THE CARTOONS HADlong since faded into background noise, the kind that hummed without meaning but filled the silence just enough to keep the walls from pressing in.

Zara was curled up on the couch, her head tucked into Sable’s side, one small hand fisted around a doll like it might vanish if she let go. Her cheeks were flushed from laughter, lashes fluttering as she drifted into sleep, safe, warm, unaware of the weight still hangin’ in the air.

Malik lay stretched out on the rug in front of the TV, his back pressed against the base of the couch, arms crossed tight over his chest like a steel shield. He hadn’t said a word in a while, hadn’t shifted or asked for anything. Just watched, silent and still, but never relaxed.

The kid didn’t rest—he observed. His eyes flicked to every sound, every creak of the floorboards, every shadow that passed across the windowpane. You could see it in the tension along his shoulders, the way he braced like he was waitin’ for someone to bust through the door. Like peace was just a trap, and any second now, it’d snap closed.

I sat in the armchair across the room, boots kicked off and one elbow resting on my knee, the remote in my hand but untouched for a while now. I was watchin’ him out of the corner of my eye, not pressin’ but not ignorin’ him either.

He finally spoke, a soft murmur, “Do you think he’ll find us?”

It wasn’t the question that twisted my gut, it was the tone. No fear, no tears, just grim awareness. Not a kid askin’ about a monster under the bed, this was a soldier askin’ if the enemy had breached the perimeter.

I met his gaze without flinchin’. “I think he’ll try.”

Malik gave a small nod like he’d already figured as much, like the part where Gabrialtriedwasn’t the problem, it was the part where hesucceededthat mattered.

“But he won’t get past us,” I added, slow and certain. “He doesn’t get to win this time.”

Malik looked down at his hands, turning one over like he didn’t quite recognize it. They were too damn small to be carryin’ this kind of weight, but life doesn’t wait for hands to grow before it hands you a burden.

“He always wins,” he said, the words hollow but carved deep. “He always makes sure of it.”

There was somethin’ in his voice, somethin’ frayed and buried, that opened up right there in front of me. I leaned forward, both elbows resting on my knees.

“Not this time,” I said. “Not if I’ve got anything to say about it.”

Silence stretched between us, not heavy, not awkward, just long enough for that truth to settle into the cracks. Behind me, the couch creaked as Sable shifted, and even without lookin’, I knew she was listenin’. Of course she was. Every mother learns to tune into danger, even when it’s only lingerin’ in the words.