Alex didn’t sleep much after the crack.
The living room argument kept replaying—Troy’s voice when the fear broke through, the way he’d stopped himself from taking the phone, the look in his eyes that still wanted to own the exits. Proof and pattern in the same body. Stolas’s messages sat on the other side of it, calm and consistent, offering a life that didn’t start with a deal. By morning Alex was tired of standing in the middle measuring which pain was more honest.
He found Troy in the study.
Troy was at the desk with a laptop open and nothing useful on the screen. He looked up when Alex came in and closed the door. The tension from the day before was still in his shoulders.
“You’re up early,” Troy said.
“I didn’t really sleep.” Alex stayed on his feet. “We need to talk. Not about r
