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"Coward," Ivy calls.

"Diplomat," Phoenix corrects. He's watching me with that too-sharp assessment he does sometimes, like he's reading a situation I haven't fully explained. "You good?"

"Yeah. Just need to clean up. Long day."

"Amen to that," Wraith mutters from where he's sprawled in an armchair, Mariah asleep on his chest. "Some of us have been dealing with six-year-olds arguing about which dinosaur would win in a fight for the past two hours."

Luna looks up from her book, offended. "That's important research, Dean. You can't just pick a random dinosaur. You have to consider time period, size, diet—"

"See?" Wraith says helplessly. "This is our lives now."

Quinn laughs and ruffles Luna's hair as she walks past. "Your life is perfect and you know it."

"Yeah, yeah." But Wraith is smiling, that soft expression he only gets when he thinks nobody's looking.

I watch them for a moment… This family that formed from broken pieces, this brotherhood that somehow made room for prospects, old ladies and kids who weren't born into it but belong anyway.

It's good. All of it.

And I'm about to do something that might complicate it spectacularly.

"I'm heading out for a few hours," I say.

Brick raises an eyebrow. "We just got you back."

"Need to take care of something."

"Taking care of something or running more supplies'?" Canvas asks innocently.

"Does it matter?"

"Only if you're about to do something stupid," Phoenix says mildly.

I meet his eyes. Hold his gaze. "I'm not."

That's not entirely true, but it's close enough.

Phoenix studies me for another long moment. Then nods. "Your call. Just don't break anything we can't fix."

"Noted."

Diesel shifts in his chair. "You taking the truck?"

"Was thinking the sedan."

All three of them pause. Exchange glances that say more than words.

The sedan isn't for grocery runs. It's for situations that require being less visible. Less identifiable. Less Iron Phoenix.

"Sedan's fine," Phoenix says finally. "Keys are on the hook."

I grab them on my way back through the common room. Nobody else comments. Nobody asks what I'm doing, why I need the inconspicuous vehicle or what trouble I might be walking into.

That's the thing about this club. They trust me to handle my own business until I specifically ask for help.

And I'm not asking.

Not yet.