The drive back to Fairhaven felt shorter than the drive that took us away. I think coming home is often like that, just as the return is usually accompanied by some measure of relief. But that wasn't something I could muster up at the moment.

When we pulled onto our street, I kept my eyes forward, willing them not to steal a glance at my house as we got closer. I wasn't sure if I could handle even seeing it again, let alone going back inside.

Not after what happened.

"I said don't fucking run!"

My stomach rolled and my chest went tight, squeezing and squeezing. Making it hard to breathe as the memory came back in full force.

I placed my hand on the glovebox, feeling the hard leather against my fingertips, and tried to ground myself, wondering if it still smelled like blood in there. Or if my kitchen floor would be permanently stained.

Spence must've sensed my unease. He sped past my house and pulled into his driveway a bit quicker than necessary, for which I was grateful. But in the end, it wasn't worth much.

The moment I stepped out of the car, my body turned like a habit, and there it was.

My home that wasn't home anymore.

From the outside, it looked the same. The weather-worn door and the tiny front porch, the small patch of marigolds under the window. They were a bit overgrown and tangled now but still holding on as summer came to an end. I couldn't believe it was only a few months ago that Dalton had died. His death came in with the warm weather and now it was getting cold, like the universe was turning a page.

In some ways, I was turning with it. My body and mind had gone through the motions with every month that passed, and they'd continue to do so because survival encourages routine. My instincts had gone to work, even on days when I wasn't feeling it. Inhale. Exhale. Repeat.

But my heart...well, that was a different story. One half of it was still stuck in May, gasping for breath.

My eyes stayed glued to the front door across the street. I'd hung a wreath on it to welcome spring and never took it down, hardly noticed until that moment. It was full of brightly colored flowers, but the changing seasons would soon demand dead leaves.

I should probably take that down.

A distinct warmth arrived at my side, a gentle hand finding home on my lower back, but Spence didn't say a word. He just stood there with me as I worked through all the melancholy whispers in my head.

If I want to take the flowery wreath down, that means going back over there.

The hand on my back moved up and then down again.

I can't go back over there.

Spence shifted to stand behind me and wrapped his arms around my body. I leaned into him and took a deep breath, trying to remember our time at the cabin instead of the next intrusive thought that came to mind.

If it doesn't smell like blood, it would have to smell like bleach, right?

His fingers caressed my arm. Warm and comforting.

Which is better? Bleach or blood?

Neither.

Fuck.

"I can't go back over there," I declared softly.

Spence nodded, his deep sigh vibrating against my back. "I know, baby." His voice was low and serious. Then he placed a soft kiss on my temple and muttered, "Dante's on his way. Let's take care of one thing at a time."

"Okay."

And with that, he led me inside. To the home that had always felt more like home to me anyway.

My brother arrived approximately five minutes later. I was in the kitchen making coffee when he knocked on the door.

I headed that way to answer it, but Spence had been dropping our stuff in his room down the hall, and he made it there before me.

Mug in hand, I paused and watched their interaction from the kitchen, hoping for the best from these two men who could never seem to get along.

"Dante," Spence greeted him, holding the door open. Hesitation swam in his eyes, but he masked it well enough.

Dante nodded as he stepped inside. "Spencer."

Spencer. He called him Spencer. Not John. Not Lovejoy. That was a good sign.

Instead of coming straight to the kitchen, they lingered by the door. Dante gave Spence a wary look, his voice dropping when he spoke, but not enough to keep me from hearing.

"How is she?" he asked.

Spence shrugged. "As well as she can be."

"Good." Dante brushed a hand over his mouth. "That's..." He cleared his throat. "That's good."

The crack in his voice was unexpected but welcome. It was rare for Dante to show emotion, which showed even clearer in his demeanor as he and Spence headed toward the kitchen, and he had to ask me for himself.

It was sort of funny, to be honest, watching my brother's eyes scan me from head to toe in a quick welfare check. Family loyalty met dutiful routine in an interesting show of concern, as thorough as it was awkward.

He told me all the time to be careful and stay safe, just as our father had always said. Heck, even when Dante's plans were hazardous as fuck, like recently suggesting I use myself as bait to catch Alex, my brother always had a backup plan to ensure safety.

But no one ever told him what to do when safety was breached. No one had told any of us.

Not a single member of the Harlow family knew how to cope in the face of disaster. And yet, our family seemed to face nothing but disaster. Mom's illness. Dad's incarceration. Dalton's death. Now this.

Would we ever learn?

"You good?" Dante asked me as he came into the kitchen, posture tight and eyes weary.

His discomfort was painful to watch. So, despite feeling nowhere near good, I decided to let him off the hook. "I'm fine." I forced a smile. "I'm ready to hear what you found out about Alex and his brother."

"Me too," Spence said, arriving at my side, always good at reading a room.

He reached out for my mug, and I happily handed it over, watching as he sipped from it, smiling casually like we shared coffee all the time. It was weird and exhilarating at the same time. Something I could get used to.

Dante exhaled a breath of relief and got right down to business. This was the part he'd always been good at.

"His name is Vincenzo Leone," he began. "Brother to Alessandro. Mid-level member of the Amato Group in Chicago."

A weight lifted from my chest. That was a good start, but I was quick to ask the question that felt most important. "And where is he?"

"In custody," Dante answered, quickly adding, "Amato custody."

Spence went next. "Here?"

Dante shook his head. "No, he's still in Chicago. He wasn't sent here with the other guys for the Philly shipments. Just Alex was. It was supposed to be his first big job since being brought in. Vincenzo requested it since his little brother had a habit of not taking the business too seriously. According to him, Alex was always too busy looking for a good time..."

He paused and spared me a glance. I didn't love the unspoken thought he sent my way, the pointed look in his eyes insinuating that I'd been one of those good times. And look where it led us, he seemed to add.

I looked away from him, my gaze jolting up to the ceiling to avoid Spencer's eyes as well. I couldn't help thinking his thoughts were in the same place, but I'd have to unpack that shit at a later time.

Dante cleared his throat, shrugging as he continued, "Anyway, he wanted him to take some initiative."

Take some initiative...

My ears perked up at that. Remembering what Alex said to me in my kitchen about his Bluejay mission, I could at least attest that one thing he'd said was the truth. But that truth was the least of my concern at the moment.

"Did you find anything out about Dalton?" The words sprang out without my full permission. I knew Dante would get to that part if he had information on it, but I couldn't wait. As both his and Spencer's eyes closed in on me, I shifted on my feet and looked down at the floor. "Alex said his brother was the one who killed him."

Eyes still down, I peeked at Dante's shoes, watching his feet shift in those familiar Chucks. The room stayed quiet as I counted to five in my head. And then...

"Yes," he answered. My eyes slammed shut. "They were both at the warehouse when Dalton was killed. Both were questioned at the time. Not found suspicious."

"But he did, didn't he?" I lifted my head, meeting the sincerity in Dante's eyes like an old friend. It was nice to see but did little to combat the hurt flooding my veins as I thought about Dalton's final moments. "Vincenzo killed him?"

Dante nodded, clearing his throat as he whispered, "Yes."

"How do you know for sure?" Spence asked, the shakiness in his voice only adding to the overall upset in the room.

Three people who always did a good job of hiding how they felt, that's all we were, but the veil was coming down. Fast.

Spence grabbed my hand. I reached for my heart with the other, rubbing at the place where I felt the most pain. It did nothing. Only more pain came. I wasn't sure if it would ever stop coming. It hadn't let up since that moment I stood at my kitchen sink and knew the other half of me was gone.

"He admitted to it," Dante finally answered, commanding a bit of normalcy into his voice as he went back into business mode and I forced myself back into the present. "But not without a bit of trouble." He turned to me. "When you found that Bluejay in Alex's car the other day, I met with Mr. Amato to let him know about it. He was pissed, obviously."

"I'm sure he was," I mumbled, meaning it.

Everyone knew Amato wanted nothing to do with Bluejay until it could be fine-tuned and deemed "safe" for the streets. Anyone messing with it before then was no friend of the organization, only a liability that put them at risk.

"I guess Alex had gone off the radar," Dante continued, "but some calls were made to Chicago, and they managed to track down his brother easily enough. He was still playing innocent, claiming he had no idea where Alex was. But in reality, he was waiting for his brother to..." He dropped eye contact with me and looked down at his feet as he finished that sentence, "take care of things here."

"You mean take care of me," I huffed, crossing my arms over my chest as sadness gave way to anger.

"Precisely." Dante nodded. "Anyway. He wouldn't say much. They kept him in custody. But when the news got out last night that Alex was killed," his voice went low as he glanced at Spence, "I guess he kinda lost it. They questioned him into the night. He was beside himself but eventually told all."

"All?" Spence and I asked at the same time.

"Well, almost all," Dante clarified. His eyebrows dipped together, curiosity fluttering over his face. "He wouldn't give away their connect, but apparently he and Alex were working with someone local, probably from Brighton. They were trying to get Bluejay back on the street but didn't know how to make it right..."

His words trailed off as something new flashed across his face. Something harder, more angry. And then, just a touch of melancholy. I held my breath, knowing what was coming next.

"When Dalton was in Chicago, he overheard the Leone brothers discussing their plans." He met my eyes again, swallowing hard before adding, "That's why he was killed."

There it went again. My heart. Who knew it could break so many times?

Of course, it would be Dalton's goodness that brought about his end. After almost losing a friend to a Bluejay overdose, he'd never let something like that slide. Of course, he'd never let a couple of idiots from Chicago get it up and running again, if he could help it. And of course, they couldn't keep him alive with the information he had.

That crooked world of ours had never felt so much like a fucking disease. I'd never missed my brother so much.

Spence's grasp on my hand tightened, picking up the tremble in my body as I leaned into him. He felt so warm and good, a safe place to tuck my woes for a while, his strength providing a balm to the pain, if only for a moment.

When he bent his head down and kissed my temple, I reveled in his comfort, but it didn't last long as Dante's voice came in like the worst kind of interruption.

"The department came up," he said to Spence with the slightest undertone of accusation. "Mr. Amato seems to think you guys know who the connect is, but for some reason, no one is giving him up." He raised his eyebrows and tilted his head. "You or Parisi know anything about that?"

Spence didn't answer right away. He just turned to face Dante, slowly, and the seconds passed in silence as the two of them stared each other down.

It was nothing new. Dante loved putting Spence on the spot like that, always trying to get police intel from a source he knew was reliable but could never quite get on his side. I was tired of the games though.

I glanced up at Spence, watching the hesitation wash over his face, seeing him swallow hard under the scrutiny of my brother's gaze. In terms of the question that hung in the air, it looked like he had plenty to say but didn't want to share any of it. Or, more accurately, couldn't share it. And that would have to be good enough right now.

As I came to terms with all the new information I'd gotten at the cabin, I was learning that there was something more meaningful to Spence's silence when it came to his work with Parisi. I didn't have to understand it anymore to want to protect it. If only for his sake and the fact that I was trying to trust him more.

"No, he doesn't know anything about that," I answered for him, taking a step toward Dante, arms crossed defensively over my chest. "And even if he did, it doesn't matter anymore."

"I beg to differ." Dante stepped forward. We were the ones facing off now. "If he knows something–"

"I just said he doesn't. Now leave it alone."

"Davina."

"Dante."

The loud blast of a ringtone snapped us out of it. Since it wasn't my phone and didn't seem to be Dante's, we both turned to Spence. His phone sat ringing in his hand as he regarded the two of us with caution.

"I have to take this," he said, holding it up. "Don't kill each other while I'm gone."

"Nice choice of words," Dante grumbled as Spence disappeared into the living room. Then his attention was back on me. He opened his mouth to speak again, but I went first, not giving him the satisfaction.

"Fix your shit with Spencer."

Dante rolled his eyes. But to his credit, he also relaxed his shoulders and the aggression on his face gave way to a simple note of irritation.

"Why?" he asked.

"Because he's not going anywhere," I answered.

"Ahh..." He smirked. "You two clearly did some bonding at the safe house."

I narrowed my eyes, irritated that he had knowledge of the Lovejoy's cabin when I'd only just found out about the damn thing. And that it was, in fact, a safe house. But oh well.

"You could say that," I muttered, glancing into the living room for a peek at Spence. His face was all business as he spoke on the phone. Turning back to my brother, I sighed. "I mean it, Dante. Fix it. If he's gonna be around more, like...actually around, I can't have you two at war."

"That's a big ask," he responded.

I shrugged. "Figure it out."

"Fine," he mumbled, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he started pacing across the kitchen floor, looking deep in thought. "You know," he paused his steps and gave me a pointed glance. "For the record, I've never hated the two of you together."

That made me laugh. "Yeah, right."

"I'm serious," Dante insisted. "I've had problems trusting him, and clearly, I wasn't off-base on that one..." His eyebrows went up with an insufferable air of superiority. "But when it came to you, I was only ever looking out. You made it clear you didn't want anything to do with this world, and I knew for a fact he was in it. I was just trying to help."

A jolt of pressure hit my chest. I was immediately on the defense, but when I thought about what he said, I mean really thought about it, I could hardly argue. I'd pushed Spence away myself for the exact same reason.

But now that my resolve had softened, so had my convictions. A lot of things that used to matter didn't seem important anymore.

"I can see that," I told Dante. "And I appreciate it. But...everything is different now, and I need you guys to get along."

"Fair enough," he sighed, nodding his agreement as he looked around Spence's kitchen. Into the dining area. Up at the ceiling. Pretty much anywhere but at me. On his face, I could see another round of those deep thoughts, turning and turning, before he cleared his throat and finally looked at me again.

"You doing alright?" he asked, gesturing toward the front door, in the general direction of my house. "I haven't, uh...gotten all the details yet of how that went down..."

As his question rolled through my head, I zoned out a little. I kept my eyes on the fridge, but all I could see was my kitchen floor across the street. "It was..." Full of Alex's blood. "Awful," I murmured, forcing some volume into my tone. "For all the shit I've seen go down over the years with Dad...none of it prepared me for the moment I'd have a gun right in my face. Or see Spence kill a man right in front of me."

Dante blinked a few times, his jaw shifting as he digested my words. "Thank God he got there in time," he mentioned softly.

"I know..." My head bobbed up and down, filled with memories. None of them good.

I knew he was right. I was lucky to be alive and so grateful for that. But alongside my gratitude for Spence's quick action, the act itself was something I still couldn't wrap my head around. That level of violence was the very same thing that claimed Dalton's life and landed Dad in prison. It was the driving force behind this world I'd been trying so hard to escape from.

"I don't think I was ready to see that happen, Dante." I shook my head, feeling the tears welling in my eyes and trying to keep them at bay. "I mean, Dad was always so ruthless, but he had to become that way. Same with you and Dalton. But Spence...he pulled the trigger like it was second nature."

"You've got it all wrong, Davina." Dante closed the distance between us in two strides. "Let's get one thing clear. I may hate that asshole most of the time because he's the bad guy in my story, but there's no denying his goodness when it comes to you." In a rare show of sibling affection, he placed his hands on my shoulders as he added, "Protecting you is what comes second nature to Spencer."

Well, shit.

As soon as the words left his mouth, Dante backed away from me again, his eyes filling with caution, undoubtedly wondering if he'd said more than he should.

He probably had. We didn't usually exchange sentiments like that. But at the same time, I knew I needed to hear that one. It was definitely something else I'd be unpacking at a later date, but I needed to hear it.

The mood in the kitchen was shifting fast. Dante was already leaning against the opposite wall of me, and he looked ready to talk about something else. I had other things to get off my chest though, so I figured now was the time to do it, before we went back to wearing our masks and didn't say the hard things anymore.

"I haven't processed Dalton's death," I told him, my voice barely stretching across the room, but he seemed to hear me just fine.

He nodded, responding just as softly, "I haven't either."

"I think it's the same for Mom. Maybe we should..." I shrugged, unsure of what to suggest because I didn't think I'd get that far.

"Go to the cemetery?" Dante provided for me.

"Yes," I said, smiling a little at the thought of that. Dire as it was. "We need to go together. And you need to start coming to family dinner again."

"I will." Dante nodded. "And hey, I'll get off Spence's back, but I still need you to be careful. Good as he is to you, he's still working with Bruce Landry, and that guy's trouble. You got it?"

"Got it," I mumbled, not loving the reminder.

"Okay, cool." Dante reached up to scratch his jaw, eyes avoiding mine now. I didn't mind though. We'd said what needed to be said and all was well.

Spencer came into the kitchen a second later, his head shifting between the two of us in the stark silence. "We good in here?" he asked.

"Yeah, we're good," I said with a weighted sigh, tipping my chin at the phone in his hand. "What's up?"

Spence closed in on me at the counter, leaning in and providing some privacy as his mouth met my ear. "That was the captain," he said. "I've gotta go."

"Okay." I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat as my brain processed the fact that he was leaving me here, alone in his house. Despite the fact that it felt more like home than my own place, I still didn't want to be here without him. I didn't want to be anywhere without him.

Sensing my hesitation, Spence's hand landed on my hip, his other lifting to my face. He tilted my chin back, his thumb brushing my bottom lip before he leaned down and kissed me. I tasted cinnamon. He felt like happiness. My whole body ached with his absence and he wasn't even gone yet.

"I'll be back soon," he whispered against my lips.

"Can I come with you?" I whispered back without thinking.

Leaning back, Spence's wolf eyes held mine with uncertainty. But he didn't say no right away. Instead, I watched his eyes flash with a million thoughts, understanding none of them, but holding my breath in anticipation.

Bringing me along for a work thing with Captain Parisi was probably not on his list of fantastic ideas, but he appeared to be considering it all the same. Assessing the danger, I was sure. Probably logging the people who'd be there. Calculating what I might witness. Clocking the risk factor if I blabbed about what I saw.

In the end, he decided to trust me.

"Yeah," he finally answered. "Yeah, you can come with me."