Page 102 of Meet Your Maker: Part One

— Sunday —

I’m sitting cross-legged on the couch, laptop balanced precariously on one knee, trying to wrangle the chaos of two homes, four mates, one child, and a very good dog.

Sumi’s off with Mishka, Ben, and Tomas at the packhouse. Meanwhile, the new cars are still being fitted with—and I’m not joking here—bulletproof doors and emergency blood packs. Which means they took my baby for a spin.

The door swings open, and Colton strides in like he owns the place. He kicks off his boots by the entrance, jacket already half off before he spots me on the couch.

“Hey, Sunny D!”

Of course he’s using my least favorite of his many nicknames.

There’s something off in his vibe—too bright, too purposeful. My brother hides his nerves behind a smile, but I know him well enough to see when he’s trying a little too hard.

I glance up from my laptop. “What’s up, Colt?”

“Just thought I’d stop by. You know, see how my favorite sister is holding up.”

I arch a brow and set the laptop aside. “Lily’s your favorite, and we all know it. What do you want?”

“What makes you think I want something?” He flops into the armchair like it’s his throne, stretching out and kicking one leg over the other.

I give him a flat look. “Because you never just stop by.”

He chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck. “Fair point. But hey, nice to see you too.”

I open my mouth to reply, but he cuts me off, tone turning way too casual. “Where are the Backstreet Boys?”

It takes me a second. Then I roll my eyes. “Seriously?”

“What?” He shrugs, still grinning. “Figured I should get specific, and Tomas has big Kevin energy.”

“They’re at the packhouse,” I say, smothering a laugh. “Giving the hound a run and fixing Gray’s door.”

Colton’s grin fades slightly, his brows pulling together. “So you’re alone?”

Before I can answer, a voice cuts in from the kitchen.

“No, she’s not.”

Shadow steps into view, a wooden spoon in one hand, amusement sharpening their features. “But thanks for the concern, big brother.”

Colton stiffens, his smile flickering back into place a little too quickly. “Hey, X,” he says, voice steady, but his fingers tap against the arm of the chair. He doesn’t look at them directly, his gaze shifting back to me instead.

Not for the first time, I notice how… wary he seems around my jaguar. I don’t get it. Sure, Shadow can be intense, but they’re my rock—steady, reliable, and a total goof. If anything, Colton should get along with them better than anyone.

“Xavier’s making dinner,” I say, breaking the awkwardness. “That’s what you’re smelling. And no, I don’t know what it is. Something fancy, I think.”

Xavier smirks, leaning against the doorway. “Pepian. Guatemalan stew with tomatoes, chilies, and roasted seeds. It’s at the delicate stage now, so…”

They gesture back toward the kitchen, tone smooth. “Excuse me.”

Without waiting for a response, they disappear around the corner, leaving us in charged silence.

I study Colton, letting my gift brush against him like the faintest breeze. He’s bursting with something—news, plots, or maybe both. It swirls around him like static electricity, sparking just beneath the surface.

“So,” I say, narrowing my eyes, “what did you do?”

He grins, fingers drumming an easy rhythm on the arm of the chair. “Who says I did anything?”

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