Chapter 31 – Lines That Cross
1062 Words
Morning came quietly, slipping into the house the way a soft apology does—slow, warm, offering nothing but light.
Rori woke to the faint hum of the heartbeat panel down the hall, the steady green glow bleeding into the edges of her doorway.
Peaceful.
Tentative.
Like the calm after a child cries themselves out and finally sleeps.
For once, nothing was burning.
Nothing was breaking.
Nothing was exploding in her foyer.
Just… breath.
The kids were still asleep—Luca curled sideways across his bed like he was fighting a dream-dragon, Zoe bundled in blankets, Mateo with one sock on and the other kicked deep under the dresser.
Her heart softened in that familiar maternal ache.
They deserved a normal day.
Almost normal.
She padded down the hall and descended the stairs, expecting to find one man awake.
Instead she found all four.
Ren, Kael, Eli, and Julian sat around the kitchen table like the most intimidating breakfast club on Earth.
Coffee mugs.
Blueprints.
A half-disassembled drone.
And Sandro, of course—flipping pancakes like an Italian deity of breakfast.
Ren looked up first. “You slept.”
His tone wasn’t a question. It was a statement of fact and—God—relief.
Rori smiled. “Yeah. I did.”
Kael’s shoulders eased. “The house didn’t alert. Maeve stayed quiet all night.”
Julian added, “Perimeter scans were clean.”
Eli nodded. “And your ex-husband hasn’t resurfaced.”
It was the softest line of the morning, but it landed the heaviest.
Rori took a seat between Ren and Kael. The proximity steadied her without asking permission.
Sandro set a plate in front of her with unnecessary flourish. “Eat. Danger waits for no one, but you can make it wait for breakfast.”
Julian cleared his throat. “…is that how that works?”
“It’s how everything works,” Sandro replied.
Rori’s laugh was small, but real.
For several minutes, they did nothing but eat. Quiet. Warm. Familiar. The kind of silence that comes from people breathing in sync—even if they were strangers yesterday.
Halfway through her coffee, she finally asked the question that had been nudging her ribs.
“So,” she murmured, “what now?”
The room shifted—not tense, just aware.
Julian leaned forward, forearms braced on the table.
“Now,” he said, “we plan.”
Eli pushed a folded map toward her—her house circled, the streets around her highlighted.
“This area isn’t random,” he said. “Someone’s been pattern-scanning the neighborhood. Long-term surveillance. Possibly weeks.”
Ren’s jaw flexed. “Which means someone knew she lived here.”
Kael added gently, “Or someone guessed she’d return home.”
Rori’s stomach tightened.
Sandro set a mug in front of her hand. “Sip. Breathe. The world is ending, but you’re among professionals.”
Julian ignored him. “The mercenaries Evan hired aren’t just bruisers. They’re trackers. The kind who don’t blink at firewalls or locked doors.”
Rori stiffened. “He hired them before or after the divorce?”
Eli exchanged a look with Julian.
Julian answered.
“Before.”
Silence hit the table.
Rori set her mug down carefully. “Before.”
Kael reached across the table, hand brushing her wrist. “This isn’t on you.”
Ren’s voice was deeper. “Not even a little.”
Sandro nodded solemnly. “He hired demons because he couldn’t control an angel.”
Rori snorted despite herself. “I’m hardly an angel.”
“You are,” Sandro said, “but with knives.”
Kael looked at her like that was precisely correct.
Julian cut in, practical and unflinching. “We need to prepare for the fact that someone else is coming for Maeve’s fragment—and for you.”
“Then we keep the kids safe,” Rori said immediately.
Ren nodded. “Already on it. I’ll do school runs for the rest of the week.”
“Me too,” Eli added.
Sandro raised a hand. “I drive on Fridays. I play loud music. I make them laugh. I contribute.”
Rori felt her chest swell painfully, gratefully.
Her broken little life was… held.
Not perfectly.
Not easily.
But held.
The heartbeat panel glowed green again, as if agreeing.
Kael leaned forward. “We need to test something.”
Rori blinked. “Test what?”
“How Maeve responds to calm versus stress.”
Sandro gestured wildly. “So we’re doing emotional experiments before lunch?”
Julian nodded once. “It’s smart.”
Eli added, “Maeve may be your shield—but shields can crush as well as protect.”
Rori looked at Kael.
“Okay. What do you need me to do?”
He hesitated—long enough that Ren looked over with a skeptical glance.
Kael rubbed the back of his neck. “We should start with… something neutral.”
Sandro grinned.
“Oh, this’ll be good.”
Kael glared at him and then—softly, almost shyly—turned back to Rori.
“Tell me something true.”
She blinked. “Right now?”
“Yes. Anything honest. Let the house listen.”
Ren straightened.
Julian’s brows shot up.
Eli folded his arms.
Sandro wiggled his eyebrows like a menace.
Rori exhaled, bracing her palms on the table.
“Okay.”
She glanced around the circle of men—protectors, fighters, ghosts from her past and unlikely guardians of her future.
Something true.
“I…”
Her voice trembled.
She swallowed.
“I feel safe with all of you.”
The heartbeat panel pulsed a soft, warm blue.
No spike.
No hum.
No tension.
Just… agreement.
Kael breathed out.
Ren closed his eyes briefly.
Sandro pressed a hand dramatically to his chest.
Julian’s lips twitched.
Eli looked down at the table like he’d heard a prayer he wasn’t meant to.
Kael whispered, “Good. That’s… very good.”
Then Rori added, quieter:
“And I feel like I might not be alone anymore.”
This time, the panel didn’t just pulse.
It glowed.
Expanding gently outward, filling the room with warmth that wasn’t electrical.
Maeve—fragment, presence, ghost—was listening.
But not in fear.
Not in threat.
In recognition.
Julian cleared his throat after a beat.
“We can work with that.”
- Writer
