Page 45 of Mayhem

“It really doesn’t.”

I flipped him off through the phone, which only made him laugh harder. Samael stayed quiet behind them, watching me in that way that usually meant he had something else on his mind. I noticed before the others stopped teasing because Pops did not stand around family video calls looking serious unless there was a reason.

“What happened?” I asked.

Runo’s expression changed first. The laughter dropped out of it without disappearing completely, and Samael stepped closer to the counter so I could see him properly. “Someone’s been pulling at old records,” he said. “Primrose property, archived cases, identifiers we stopped using years ago. Nothing direct enough to tell us whether they know what they’re looking for, but it’s more than somebody typing a name into a search bar.”

My hand stopped where I’d been rubbing the edge of one blister. “How long?”

“Last few days. We noticed because two of the identifiers should have been dead ends and somebody followed them far enough to touch records that don’t connect unless you already have a reason to look.”

Hunter had told me he was going to dig. I’d expected school records, Westbridge, whatever he could pull on Nichlas and the year I spent finding him. I had not expected him to start reaching backward far enough to brush Primrose.

I looked down at my bare feet, then across the empty stretch of garden while I worked through what I wanted more. The answer should have been simple. I had spent a year hunting Nichlas and longer than that wanting him dead. I was finally close enough to make him afraid every day, and walking away now would feel like ripping out something I had carried too long to abandon.

None of that mattered more than my fathers.

“I don’t want to stop,” I said, looking back at the phone. “I’m finally where I need to be, and I’m not giving Nichlas another fucking year if I can help it. But if staying here starts pulling your old lives back into daylight, I will. I’m not dragging Primrose behind me because I got stubborn over one coward.”

Aeron’s face softened, but Samael answered before he could. “You’re not dragging anything anywhere. We told you because you need to know somebody is looking, not because we need you to fix it for us. Send me anything unusual from your end. Names, questions, anything one of those men asks that feels too specific. We’ll handle the rest.”

Slash nodded beside him, cutting another piece from the apple with the same calm precision he used for everything. “If whoever’s looking finds an old name, that doesn’t mean they understand what they found. There are too many layers between then and now for one search to open the whole thing. Let us worry about our history.”

I still didn’t like it. “If it’s Hunter, he’s good enough that he’ll keep going once he realizes something doesn’t fit.”

“Then he keeps going,” Runo said, leaning closer until his face filled more of the screen again. His tone had lost the teasing, warm without becoming soft. “Baby, we survived everything attached to those names before you ever walked into our house. You don’t need to drop what you came for because somebody knocked on one of our old doors. If this Hunter finds something inconvenient, we’ll decide what to do about Hunter. You go deal with the problem that belongs to you.”

I studied him for a moment, still trying to decide whether that was reassurance or permission to make several worse decisions in quick succession. With Runo, it was usually both. “You’re sure?”

“We’re sure,” Aeron said. “And while you’re dealing with your problem, please find a pharmacy before those feet get infected. I am begging you to have one normal concern today.”

Runo’s grin came back. “Go get your boy.”

I groaned hard enough that the woman crossing the path nearby glanced over. “He is not my boy. He’s an irritating asshole with no concept of personal space who has apparently decided I’m his extracurricular activity.”

“That sounds even worse for your argument.”

“It’s not an argument. It’s a fact.”

Runo cackled, Slash started laughing into the back of his hand, and Aeron looked pleased enough with himself that I knew I was never escaping this conversation cleanly. Samael only shook his head, but the corner of his mouth moved before he told me again to send him anything suspicious and not to confront whoever was digging until they knew more.

“I know how investigations work, Pops. You taught me.”

“I also taught you not to ride a motorcycle loud enough to announce your location three blocks away. Education doesn’t always take.”

“That motorcycle is perfect.”

“It’s obnoxious.”

“So am I. We suit each other.”

That got the rumble of his laugh, which was close enough to victory for me. Aeron made me promise to clean my feet before putting anything back on them, Slash told me to get my boots returned before the next call so he did not have to listen to another footwear crisis, and Runo blew me a kiss while telling me to have fun with my “not-boy.”

I hung up before he could make it worse. I stayed on the wall for another moment, then shoved my phone into my bag and picked up the heels. If Hunter was the one digging, Samael would find out soon enough.

I picked up the heels and started walking barefoot again. Hunter could have his stupid dress code exactly as written. Until he gave me my boots back, he was going to have to live with my interpretation of it.

By the time I found Priya, my feet were clean, bandaged, and still bare. I’d stopped at the campus pharmacy like Aeron demanded, bought enough blister pads to satisfy him for at least twenty-four hours, and refused to put the heels back on afterward. They hung from two fingers while I crossed the student union toward the café, and the first thing Maren did when she saw me was look down at my feet and laugh.