Page 155 of Priest

Every head in the room turned.

Castor muttered, “Well. Hell.”

At my nod, Nora stepped inside and the prospect shut the door behind her.

“You,” she said, pointing at Castor without any real surprise, “are the reason my blood pressure has become a full-time administrative issue.”

Rook looked down at the table like he was trying not to laugh.

Castor gave her a grin so unwise it should’ve required supervision. “Agent Miranda. We were just talking about me.”

“It is extraordinary,” she said dryly, “how often that happens when you’re in the room.”

I rubbed a hand over my mouth to hide the start of a smile.

Nora came farther in, dropped a folder in front of Archangel, and looked straight at me. “For what it’s worth, his presence in the warehouse was not sanctioned. His presence in the hospital was less sanctioned. His continued presence within my line of sight is rapidly becoming a personal insult.”

Castor spread his hands. “And yet you keep finding me.”

“That is because you are incapable of following instructions.”

“Counterpoint,” he said. “Instructions are often suggestions in nicer shoes.”

That got more laughter around the table than it deserved.

Nora closed her eyes briefly, then reopened them with the expression of a woman making peace with paperwork and poor life choices. “I am leaving in five minutes. If you are not in the SUV when I am, I will tell every agent on the task force exactly where to find you, and I will not be responsible for the consequences.”

He looked at me, then at Archangel, then back at her. “See? Chemistry.”

“It is not chemistry,” she said. “It is a professionally documented migraine.”

Even I laughed at that.

The room loosened just enough for breath to come easier. Not because anything was fixed. Joker was still out there. Sadie was still with him. Lena was still dead. Blue was home with our son in an apartment that no longer felt safe enough, and the future I wanted for all of them still existed mostly in plans and stubborn declarations.

But the table was full. The room was steady. The men around it were mine, and for all the blood still ahead of us, we weren’t only reacting anymore.

We were building.

“Alright,” I said, straightening the folder Ghost had pushed my way. “Ghost handles Tide Lofts. Archangel and Castor keep us updated on federal movement, whether Nora likes it or not.”

“She does not,” Nora said.

Castor grinned. “See? Chemistry.”

I ignored both of them. “Nomad starts mapping charity ride options. Rook and Ink work the benefit structure with Graves when he gets back. Ledger…”

I waited until his eyes met mine.

“You sit with Cage. Read what you need to read. You don’t carry this alone.”

He held my gaze for a second, then nodded once.

That was enough for now.

Outside Church, the club kept moving in its usual rhythm. Bikes came and went. Men laughed too loud somewhere down the hall. Life, stubborn and unimpressed by tragedy, kept insisting on itself.

Inside Church, I looked down at the notes in front of me and thought of Blue sitting on that couch with Little Jax curled against her chest, both of them finally asleep for ten stolen minutes while I stood over them like the world might try to collect on what it had failed to take.