Page 62 of Gravity
Stone let the words settle. Ten blocks. In their world, that was practically a cornered rat.
“I thought Titus set this meeting up?” Viper snarled.
Dave’s face didn’t move, but Stone saw the tightness at his jaw, the way his hand flexed once at his side. Too much strain, too many years carrying the weight.
Stone’s chest ached to step in, to steady him, but he kept his focus outward. Not here. Not with eyes on them.
He turned instead to Sage, clapping a hand to the man’s shoulder. “Good work.”
Sage shrugged, trying to play it off, but pride flickered in his eyes.
Stone’s voice cut across the lot, hard and final. “Bag it up. We move.”
Stone slid into the back of the SUV after Dave, the doors slamming shut with a metallic thud that cut off the night. Viper took the driver’s seat without a word. Rip had gone with Boston and Sage in another vehicle, leaving this one quiet.
The convoy pulled out, headlights cutting through the broken streets of Port Hueneme.
For the first time all night, Stone let himself breathe. Not easy, not steady—just enough to know the fight was behind them.
For now.
Beside him, Dave sat rigid, eyes on the dark blur out the window. His silence wasn’t unusual, but there was something off about it tonight. Stone caught the tightness in his jaw, the shallow rise and fall of his chest.
Then Dave’s hand twitched against his thigh, flexing once, twice, before pressing hard into the muscle as if to ground himself.
Stone’s gut clenched.
He knew that look, that edge. He’d seen Dave bleed out before, take hits that would have ended another man—but this was different. No gun, no knife, no enemy he could shoot or strangle. Just something inside him slipping, too quiet, too invisible.
Not here, Stone thought. Not like this.
His irritation with Dave melted away in an instant.
He leaned closer, voice low. “You good?”
“I’m fine.” The reply was too quick, too clipped.
Bullshit. Stone had lived half his life listening for the lies men told when they were bleeding. Dave wasn’t scared—he wasfighting his own body. And Stone couldn’t punch, stab, or choke that into submission.
His gaze lingered on the faint sheen of sweat at Dave’s temple, the way his shoulders curled in before he forced them straight. Pretending nothing was wrong. Pretending he didn’t need anyone.
Stone’s fists itched. He’d rather take ten rounds himself, shoulder screaming, ribs breaking, than watch Dave pretend he wasn’t hurting. Because every time he saw it, the same thought ripped through him—what if this time he doesn’t come back?
Up front, Viper’s eyes flicked to the mirror, catching Stone’s. He’d noticed too. No words passed, but the exchange was clear: watch him.
Stone settled back, close enough that his shoulder brushed Dave’s. He didn’t push—Dave would only lock down harder if he did—but he stayed steady, a silent vow in his chest.
Not on my watch.
Outside, Port Hueneme slipped away, the ocean air thinning as they merged onto the Ventura Freeway. Santa Barbara was less than an hour up the coast. Dave’s estate, their stronghold.
Stone let his gaze rest on Dave, memorizing the sharp lines of his face against the passing glow of streetlights. He didn’t say it aloud, not yet—but he’d be damned if he let Dave carry this weight alone.
Not anymore.
Stone curled an arm around Dave and pulled him close, his lips brushing near the man’s temple. His words were too quiet for Viper to hear.
“Did you bring the meds the doctor prescribed? Do we need to stop by a clinic?”
