Page 92 of Thunder's Reckoning

“I’m on my way.”

The call ended, and just like that, the shift hit me. Lover to soldier. Warmth to steel.

I moved quick, efficient. Shirt. Boots. Gun. Every motion sharp, practiced. The ritual was too familiar, like prayer in reverse. Where others knelt at altars, I strapped steel to my hip. Where others whispered hymns, I chambered rounds.

Behind me, Sable sat up, the sheet slidin’ down her shoulder, eyes wide, watchin’ the transformation. “What happened?”

I bent, pressed a kiss to her temple. Tried to make my voice even, calm. “Security issue. Devil needs boots on the ground.”

Her gaze followed me as I moved, takin’ me in piece by piece like she was memorizing me. “Should I be worried?”

And God help me, I hesitated. Just a breath.

“No,” I said finally. “You’re safe here. Momma’s got you. The kids too. I wouldn’t leave if I didn’t trust that. Devil’s sendin’ men to watch for peace of mind.”

She nodded slow, but worry clung stubborn behind her lashes.

I kissed her again. Hard. Rough. The kind of kiss that saysif this is the last one, it won’t fade easy.

“Lock the door behind me.”

Then I was gone.

Down the hall, boots hittin’ wood that creaked like it had somethin’ to say. I didn’t check the kids. Didn’t stop to breathe. My shadow stretched long across the walls, flickerin’ with each lamp I passed like the house itself was remindin’ me what I stood to lose.

The night air hit sharp when I stepped outside, cool against skin still burnin’ from her touch. Crickets sang, a whip-poor-will called somewhere in the pines, and for a split second, it almost felt like peace again.

But then his name came back to me.

Gabrial.

Even thinkin’ it was gasoline in my blood. My pulse kicked like a lit fuse, every nerve already geared for the fight.

If he was here, it wasn’t by accident.

This was calculated. Deliberate.

It was a message.

And I sure as hell planned on answerin’—loud enough the whole fuckin’ world would hear.

CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

THE HOUSE FELTtoo big without Zeke.

I’d watched him ride off into the dark, the rumble of his bike fading until the silence pressed so heavy I could hardly breathe. The sound was gone, but the weight it left behind wasn’t. When I turned back inside, Miriam was already at the foot of the stairs, robe cinched, her braid slipping over one shoulder.

“Couldn’t sleep?” I asked softly, locking the door behind me.

“Never could, once my boy left the house ridin’ into the night.” Her voice was warm, but worry pulled at it. “Thought I’d sit a spell.”

So we ended up in the kitchen, the lamp throwing a weak circle of light across the oak table. The clock ticked loud against the hush. Miriam poured us both water, her hands steady, and we sat across from each other. Neither of us spoke much. It wasn’t the kind of quiet that soothed. It clawed. Every creak of the floorboards felt louder. Every gust of wind outside made me stiffen.

Then the knock came.

Harsh. Too loud.

Miriam froze, her hand pausing halfway as she set her glass on the table.