Damien Wolfe sat on a bar stool in the upstairs living room, a bottle within reach as he poured himself another drink.
Graves, Thorne, Blade, and Rex stood nearby, keeping their distance but close enough to be present. They did not need words to know their boss was in a foul mood. Over the years they had learned his patterns well. When Damien was restless or angry, he locked himself in the boxing room. When he was brooding, he drank. Tonight, he was drinking.
“Has she settled in?” His voice was rough as he swallowed the burn of whiskey.
“Yes, boss. She didn’t want to unpack, but we made sure she has everything she’ll need,” Graves replied.
Damien poured himself another drink, his eyes burning as he recalled the look on her face when she stepped into the car. She had turned her head, gl
