Page 10 of Knot Like Other Girls

Savva's quiet for a moment, and when he speaks again, the playful lilt is gone from his voice. "We're whatever we need to be, Roman. That's what makes us good at what we do."

I turn to look at him then, really look at him. In the moonlight, his auburn hair looks almost silver, his hazel-greeneyes dark and serious. It's easy to forget sometimes, under all that charm and sophistication, that Savva's just as much a soldier as the rest of us.

"And what if what we need to be gets one of us killed?" The words come out harsher than I intended, but Savva doesn't flinch.

Instead, he meets my gaze steadily. "Then we deal with that when it happens. But right now? We have a job to do."

I want to argue, to tell him it's not that simple. But the truth is, it is. We took this job, and now we see it through. That's how we operate. That's how we've always operated.

But the nagging doubt remains. The voice in the back of my head that whispers we're not cut out for this anymore. That we need to find something safer, something that doesn't put us in the crosshairs of people who make killing an art form.

Savva must see something in my expression because his face softens. "You're thinking about getting out, aren't you?"

I nod, not trusting my voice.

He sighs, running a hand through his hair. "Look, I get it. This isn't exactly what we signed up for. But Roman, what else are we going to do? Get normal jobs?"

The idea is so absurd I almost laugh. Us, normal? The thought of Troy behind a desk, or Liam trying to work retail, or Cole... doing anything that doesn't involve a sniper rifle, really. It's laughable.

But still...

"We could find other work," I say, even as I hear the lack of conviction in my own voice. "Security consulting, maybe. Something less... volatile."

Savva blows a puff of air through his nose. "Right. Because we're all so good at de-escalation."

He's got a point. Our team isn't exactly known for its subtlety. We're more the 'shoot first, ask questions later' type. It's whatmade us effective in the field, but it's not exactly a transferable skill in the civilian world.

"We could try," I insist, but even to my own ears, it sounds weak.

Savva's quiet for a long moment, his eyes scanning the horizon. When he speaks again, his voice is soft, almost gentle. “Roman, we are who we are. This is what we do. It's not always pretty, and it's sure as hell not safe, but it's us. You really think any of us could walk away from this? From you?”

I want to say yes. I want to believe that we could hang up our guns, leave behind the violence and the danger. But deep down, I know he's right. This life, as fucked up as it is, it's all we know. All we're good at.

"I just..." I trail off, struggling to find the words. "I can't lose any of you.”

The admission costs me, leaves me feeling raw and exposed. But Savva just nods, understanding in his eyes.

"We're not going anywhere," he says, his voice firm. "We're a pack. Where you go, we go."

The words settle something in me, a restlessness I didn't even realize was there. We're a pack. Broken, damaged, but at least we’re together.

And maybe that's enough.

I straighten, squaring my shoulders. "Alright," I say, my voice steadier now. "Let's get back inside. We've got work to do."

Savva grins, a flash of white teeth in the darkness. "That's more like it. Besides, I think I hear Liam trying to teach Troy how to swear in Gaelic. This I've got to see."

Despite everything, I feel a smile tugging at the corners of my mouth.

CHAPTER 4

SAVVA

Ifollow Roman back inside, the warmth of the safe house a stark contrast to the cool night air. The tension in his shoulders has eased slightly, but I know better than to think our conversation has magically solved all his worries. Roman carries the weight of leadership like a second skin, always vigilant, always planning for the worst.

As we step into the main room, I'm greeted by a scene that's become all too familiar over the years. Our ragtag pack of alphas, each dealing with the aftermath of the night's events in their own unique way.

Liam's booming voice fills the space, his Irish accent thicker than usual as he regales Troy with what I can only assume are the finer points of his mother tongue’s profanity. "No, no, it's not whatever fuckin' gobshite you just said!"

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