Page 33 of Tiny's Testament
Peanut chirps, curling her tail neatly around her paws like this is normal.
Sadie walks in, stopping dead in her tracks. Peanut has unleashed hell on some of the club bunnies. “I swear that cat isn’t a cat. She’s a demon with fur.”
Peanut leaps down, making Sadie jump. She pushes open a cabinet door that should not open from the inside, and struts out like she’s unveiling a magic trick.
I laugh despite myself. “Tiny’s going to lose his mind when she figures out how to hot-wire his bike.”
Sadie smirks. “I give her a week.”
Bones and Dagger are arguing over who tuned the radio to the wrong station. Trigger’s at the table, counting cash as if it insulted him. Red’s glued to his laptop with his son on his hip, and Torch is teaching Peanut to high-five with a strip of bacon, which is a crime, and I tell him so.
“She’s a growing girl,” Torch counters, eyes innocent. “Needs protein.”
“She needs boundaries,” Tiny says behind me, but he’s smiling when he says it, and Peanut betrays him by switching teams the moment Tiny sits down, climbing his thigh and curling up on his lap as if she’s always belonged there.
“She’syourcat,” Trigger says dryly. “Steals like you. Eats like Torch. Sleeps like Bones.”
Bones grins, unfazed. “We can’t all be beautiful and joyless, Treas.”
“Careful,” Red murmurs, still typing. “He’s got the ledger and the bullets.”
Capone steps out of his office holding a cup of black coffee that looks like it could solve wars. He takes a long look around the room, and I see the micro-tension release when he counts heads, observes all of us breathing, and notices the light in the room that wasn’t there yesterday. His gaze lands on me, then Tiny. He doesn’t comment, just nods once, approval and warning in the same small nod.
He crosses to where Danyella is sitting with Nina at the table and kisses her like he’s a starving man.
Blayze leans against the bar next to me, lowering his voice. “You okay?”
“I will be.”
“Good answer.” He tips his chin at Tiny. “He looks ten pounds lighter.”
“From the guilt?” I quip.
“From the smiling.”
Daisy slides a plate my way, her brows knitting with quiet care. “Eat,” she says in that tone that brooks zero argument. Monica appears at Blayze’s elbow, kissing his cheek before taking a stool, and Jezebelle breezes through with a pitcher of orange juice she has no intention of drinking. Nadia’s got Matt on her hip, dancing him past Trigger’s chair just to make him soften for a split second. He does. He always does. Aerianna’s bright smile lights up the room.
The noise rises and falls like a tide. Safe noise, the kind that says we’re still here.
Peanut chooses this moment to commit theft again. This time, a whole slice of toast. She snatches it from Tiny’s plate and races across the table like a tuxedo blur, claws skittering, tail held high.
“Every damn morning,” Tiny mutters, but he’s laughing. It changes his entire face. Softens the brutal lines, brightens the eyes. I didn’t realize until just now how much I needed to see that.
“Training her for smash-and-grab?” Bones asks, admiring. “Put a cut on her, Prez. She’s earned it.”
“Patch a cat and I’m retiring,” Capone says deadpan, which makes everyone crack up because they know he’d seriously consider it if Peanut could run guns.
“Speaking of training,” Dagger says, setting down his mug with a clack, “community day at the high school’s locked. Ms. Emerson asked for at least two responsible adults.” He eyes Tiny and Torch theatrically. “So I’ll be taking Blayze and Red.”
Blayze smirks. “She asked forresponsible, notboring.”
“She asked fornot terrifying,” Red corrects, pushing his glasses up. “Which excludes ninety percent of the room.”
“Eyes like lightning,” Dagger adds to no one, then catches me noticing and pretends he didn’t say it. The brothers howl anyway. He shrugs and takes it like a man used to his own mouth getting him in trouble.
Capone lifts a hand, and the room eases down without him raising his voice. “Good. Keep that. Quiet public presence buys us time.” His attention slides to Red. “Intel.”
Red clicks to a different screen, a digital map spreading lines and tags. “Hits at the south docks were flash ops. Meant to send a message, not steal. But the missing third truck? I’ve got a possible ping moving east, cutting toward the old farm roads.”
