Page 302 of Chaos

The words settle heavily.

Mine.

Not just here or staying or hiding.

Mine.

I watch him pull out a handgun and set it on the table. Then another. Then a smaller one that looks like it could disappear under a jacket without leaving much of a trace.

He taps the last one.

“This one’s your new one.”

I stare at it. “You’re assigning me a Bratva gun?”

“I’m giving you one that fits your hand.”

He says it like practicality explains everything.

Maybe in his world, it does.

I set my palm beside the gun without touching it. The size is right. I can see that immediately, which pisses me off.

“From now on, if you leave the compound, you carry.” He nods toward the shelf to my left. “Not just your knife.”

I cross my arms. “I never leave any place unarmed… usually. You’re making this sound like a starter pack.”

“It is.”

He reaches past me for a case on the shelf, opens it, and reveals a slim knife with a dark handle. Not decorative. Balanced. Mean-looking without trying.

“This too, new knife for you.”

I eye it. “You buy all your gifts in murder sets now?”

His mouth twitches.

It’s so fast I almost miss it.

“Better than those fucked up dandelions.”

I actually do laugh then, one short, tired burst that surprises both of us.

The sound dies quickly.

Because underneath it, the room is still what it is. A place full of weapons. A locked basement. The man I love explaining what I need to survive beside him like it’s just another household adjustment.

I swallow and force myself to look back at the shelves.

“I’m assuming this comes with rules?”

He goes still.

Just enough to tell me I asked the right question.

Then he leans one hip against the table and folds his arms.

“If you’re in this house, guards answer to me first, thenyouif I’m not here.”