Page 76 of Meet Your Maker: Part One

I nod, pressing a kiss to his temple, my heart aching with how much I love him. “He knows, Ben. But, if we force him to stay with us, he’ll just bolt. It’s what he’s good at, it’s what he knows. We just leave the door open and we don’t make a fuss when he decides to walk through it or when he decides to stay with the twins.”

Shadow leans forward, eyes soft, a smile tugging at their lips. “We’ve got plenty of time, Amor,” they reach for Ben’s hand. “And Mishka’s got all of us—whether he’s at the farmhouse or the townhouse. We’re not going anywhere.”

Tomas clears his throat, shifting into what I like to think of as “Alpha Mode.” His expression becomes sharper, more focused, as he folds his arms over his chest.

“Alright, let’s talk logistics.” His voice takes on that no-nonsense edge I find dreadfully attractive. “We need to start thinking about transportation. The Judge is great, but we’re going to need more than one car for eight people spread across two places.”

Ben raises an eyebrow. “You got a plan for that?”

Tomas nods, already in full-on problem-solving mode. “I’ve been texting with Wade,” he says, pulling out his phone and tapping the screen. “He’s got a line on two decommissioned police cruisers. Both have bulletproof glass and upgraded engines. We can pick them up tomorrow.”

I let out a low whistle, impressed despite my concerns over what this will cost. “Bulletproof, huh? You think we’re gonna need that kind of protection?”

“I think it’s better to be prepared than wishing we had been, don’t you?” His glances toward the others, his tone softening slightly. “We’ve got more people to think about now. We can’t afford to be careless. I’m also working on getting the Marchese jet smuggled out of Texas’ impound and brought to the Hughes County Airfield, too. Just in case.”

I sigh, recognizing the sense in what he’s saying, even if it makes my stomach twist with the reminder of just how many threats are hanging over us. Tomas turns to me, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Sunday, you need to check in with your friend in Vegas. We need more information before we move forward with anything else.”

I hesitate, feeling a pang of guilt settle in my chest. I hop off Ben’s lap and grab my phone from the table. “I’ve been avoiding Melia,” I admit, my fingers already scrolling through my contacts.

Tomas raises an eyebrow, his lips pressing into a thin line. “You can’t keep putting this off,” he says, his voice a mixture of firmness and concern. “We need to know what’s happeningthere—and you need to take care of your responsibilities. The first of June is around the corner. You need to pay your bills.”

I groan, tossing my head back dramatically. “I’ve been enjoyingnotlooking at my bank account, thank you very much.”

Tomas shakes his head, “You’ve been paid weekly for your services as the House of Marchese , art acquisition specialist. You should have plenty in your account.”

Ben leans forward, his brow furrowed. “Why don’t you just sell it?” he says, his tone genuinely curious. “We can’t go back to Vegas anyway.”

I let out a short laugh, shaking my head. “Yeah, well… staying out of Vegas isn’t gonna do shit to protect us from him,” I mutter, my voice trailing off, but Texas’ presence is inarguably in the room. There’s no denying the truth of it—he’s closing the net, on us, on my family, too.

Xavier looks between me and Tomas, “Any news on that front?” They run a hand through their thick messy hair, suddenly seeming far older than their twenty years. “And don’t we have to head to New Orleans…” they glance at me for confirmation, then back at Tomas. “Tomorrow, right? We have to meet Louisiana’s deadline. You told Gray, right?”

Tomas sighs, his shoulders slumping slightly. “No, I didn’t tell him yet, therewasa lot going on last night, but I sent him a text, so he’ll know as soon as he rises,” his voice carries the weight of mental fatigue that’s settled over all of us. “And yeah, as of right now, we need to be at the palace by midnight on Tuesday.”

The tension in the room seems to thicken as we all make peace with how very fraught the near future appears to be.

Then Tomas claps his hands together. “Alright,” he says, his voice taking on that commanding tone again. “We’ve got a lot to get done before we leave. I want everyone to start making lists of what we need. Sunday, we’ll need to make a stop at your dad’sto pick out a few things for New Orleans. Louisiana runs a very formal court.”

He pauses, his gaze steady. “We also have to check the new windows at the townhouse, so we’ll head there afterward to get everything sorted.”

Shadow’s eyes brighten with interest. “I’ve heard about this ‘closet.’” They use finger quotes, and I roll my eyes. Some part of me, though, looks forward to showing my jaguar all my treasures. I wonder if Mishka, or maybe even Colt, will be there. We barely got to catch up last night—at least, not in the way I’d like to.

“One last thing, Trouble. You’re not to go anywhere alone.” Concern is etched across his features. “Things are dangerous right now. If you need to go anywhere, you take one of us with you. No exceptions. I mean it.”

My instinct is to bristle, but I catch the edge of fear in his voice, and I nod, biting back the urge to argue. “Alright, I get it.” I try to keep my tone light, but there’s an unspoken promise in my words. “No solo missions.”

He gives a brief nod. “Good,” his voice is gentler now. “I just need to know you’re safe.”

I swallow and glance at my phone, scrolling through my contacts, before pressing the call button for Melia. Time to get things moving. No more avoiding the inevitable.

Chapter Thirty One

Mr. Emotional Maturity

— Xavier —

I wait until Tomas and Ben’s voices fade upstairs, until the soft sounds of Xavier fixing their nest disappear behind a closed door. Only then does the porch settle into a silence thick enough to smother the guilt blossoming in my chest.

“No solo missions.”

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