The coffee was cold by the time I poured it.
I'd been sitting in the kitchen for twenty minutes — since Tank stepped aside in the hallway, since Jax's door closed behind me. Two serpent patches in my pockets. Two men. Twenty-four hours.
Ghost walked in. Quiet. Economical. Black coffee, no sugar, no eye contact.
"You didn't sleep in your room last night."
Not a question. A diagnosis.
"I slept."
"Kael's room. Then Jax's." He leaned against the counter. His voice was calm — the same tone he'd use to read a chart. "Pupils dilated. Pulse elevated at your carotid. Dehydrated. Haven't eaten in twelve hours. And you've touched your left pocket four times since I walked in."
I looked down. My hand was resting on the patch.
"I'm always observing you," he said. "It's what I do."
"Kael marked
