The message went out at dawn.
Rogue handled it personally — a single photo of the ledgers and a note that simply said: We have it. Touch her again and we burn everything.
The compound was quiet after that. Too quiet. Brothers cleaned weapons, checked bikes, and waited. Colossus stayed close, one massive hand always somewhere on me — my back, my hip, my neck — like he needed the reminder I was still here.
I spent the morning in the garage, pretending to work on a bike while my mind raced. Colossus leaned against the workbench, arms crossed, watching me with that rare crooked smile.
“You’re overthinking,” he said.
I wiped grease on my jeans and looked up at him. “Easy for you to say. You’re not the one whose blood started this war.”
He crossed the space in two strides and pulled me aga
