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Before I can react, Conor is already moving, helping me sit up and then to my feet, his hand steady at my side. He doesn’t let go as he guides me out of the room and down the hall toward the dining room.

The sound of a baby’s laugh hits me out of nowhere, sharp and bright, and I stop without thinking. A little boy, maybe two, comes charging across the room, all wobbly steps and reckless confidence, his small arms thrown up as he runs straight for us.

“Up!” he demands, eyes fixed on Conor like there’s no one else in the world.

“Just a minute, Ollie.” Conor keeps us moving, guiding me carefully into a chair before stepping back.

The kid’s attention shifts to me instead, his little head tilting to the side as he studies me like I’m something new and not entirely figured out yet. I’ve seen myself in the mirror. I know I look like hell. I just hope I’m not scaring the little guy. I manage a small smile anyway.

“Hi there,” I say, keeping my voice low and gentle.

“Owey?” he asks, his voice soft and impossibly sweet.

Then his expression shifts, a tiny glare snapping toward Conor. “Urt.”

“Yeah,” Conor says, his tone softening in a way I haven’t heard before. “Jaxon’s got some owies. He’s hurt.”

Conor reaches for him, but Ollie turns away at the last second, heading back toward the table where the two men are already sitting. He plops down beside a dinosaur-covered diaper bag and digs through it with purpose before pulling out a well-worn teddy bear.

Then he stands again and toddles back to me, holding the bear out like it’s something important. My chest tightens as I take the bear from him.

It’s worn in that way only something loved too much can be, the fabric soft and faded from years of small hands holding on. He’s giving me something that matters.

“Wow,” the smaller of the two men says, sounding almost impressed. “He must really like you. I’m Colton. That’s Ollie, and this is Ronan, Conor’s brother.”

I force my eyes away from the bear, though my grip on it tightens as I nod toward Colton. I try to say my name, but the words get stuck somewhere in my throat, caught up in everything I’m still trying to hold together.

Ronan speaks before I can manage it. “Jaxon Kane.” His voice is calm, measured. “We know who you are.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Ronan.” Colton rolls his eyes. “You sound like a damn cartoon villain.” He looks back at me, his expression softening slightly. “Ignore him, Jaxon. What he means is we know your name. And we’ve been looking into your…” He pauses, tilting his head as he searches for the right word. “…situation with Manny Deluga.”

My heart stutters, my chest tightening hard enough that I have to force a breath. What is it with this family and their need to insert themselves into my life?

I shake my head slightly, my fingers brushing over the worn fur of the teddy bear, focusing on the texture, the softness, something real, something solid to hold onto.

A small weight presses against my leg, pulling my attention down. Ollie stands there, those big, soulful eyes fixed on me as his tiny hand moves slowly over my thigh. The gesture is gentle. Careful and feels reassuring. Is it weird to think he’s trying to tell me it’s okay? Because it feels like he is.

I chance a look at Conor. His gaze is already on me, steady, unwavering. Something loosens deep inside my chest, and I let out a slow breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. And then I tell them everything. The bar. Why I stepped in. Everything that came after.

“Wednesday…”

The word catches in my throat, sticking there no matter how hard I try to force it out. Because the second I reach for it, the memory hits—sharp and relentless. Being dragged from the ring. The warehouse. Yuri’s body crumpled on the floor. It plays over and over, refusing to let go.

I’ve killed before. I know that. It’s followed me into my sleep, into the quiet moments I can’t escape, but I could always explain it away. It meant something; it was for my country. But this wasn’t that.

Mrs. Murphy reaches over and covers my large, calloused hand with her smaller, softer one.

“He’s not dead,” she says gently. “We figured out who was there that night.” Her gaze shifts briefly to Conor before returning to me, her fingers tightening slightly around mine.

“You know Henry’s connected. But do you know who else was there?”

I shake my head slowly. I didn’t recognize any of them. They all looked the same to me, wealthy, polished, the kind of men who don’t get their hands dirty themselves. But the look on Conor’s face causes something in my stomach drops. I have a feeling I’m about to hear something I don’t want to know.

“They’re Russian mafia,” Ronan says, like he’s stating a fact that doesn’t need dressing up. “How Henry got tangled up with them… we’re still working that out.” He leans back slightly, eyes sharp as they stay on me. “There were also a few high rollers there. Regulars at the fights. Big money.”

My grip tightens around the bear without me meaning to. Conor steps in before the silence stretches too far.

“From what we can tell,” he says, his voice steadier, more controlled, “Henry set you up against their top fighter.” He watches me carefully before adding, “He’s not dead. But he’s in the hospital.”