27. Vogue

"Sleep now,"Cal murmurs to me as the guys shuffle about, getting me under the covers and comfortable.

"Mm," I mumble, my eyes already closed as they pull back. The quietness of the door opening and closing as they leave me alone is a distant noise in my ears.

I'm drifting away, the edges of reality blurring as sleep beckons. But it's a restless slumber; images of gun flashes and the sound of my father's pained voice ricochet around in my head. I jerk awake with every muffled noise of a house in action, paranoia gripping my hazy brain like a vice.

When the door creaks open again, I tense, expecting another wave of danger to roll over me. But it's just Cal, slipping back into the room. He pads silently across the floor and eases himself onto the bed beside me. His hands are gentle as he brushes the hair from my face.

"Can't sleep?" he whispers.

I shake my head, the events of the day still burning bright and brutal in my mind's eye.

"Hey," he says softly, pulling me into his arms. "He's fine. He's up and downstairs barking orders like a madman."

"He was shot. What is he doing?"

"Being a leader. A tough guy. Aaron McGowan."

"No, the correct answer was being an ass."

Cal chuckles. "That too."

"I think I love him."

He weighs that for a moment before he says, "Well, he is your father."

"I know but I hated him before. He jumped in front of a bullet for me."

"Have you told him that?"

"Not yet."

"You should. He wants to hear it."

"I will. Soon."

"About this masked party… things have changed a bit."

"Like what?" I ask, sitting up.

"We aren't sure it's necessary right now. Word has spread of what we did to the Vipers, and every fucker in Crestmont is calling at our door wanting in. We achieved what that was meant to do."

"Okay, but what about Thayer's heist?"

"He still needs to get the piece from the vault. But just the one now. He went earlier."

"What?" I exclaim, mad as a snake now. "Without me?"

"He took Haz. It's fine. We didn't want to disturb you and the opportunity came up, so he went."

"Well, what a fucking let-down."

He smirks. "There will be more heists, princess. You just wait."

I stare into his eyes and sigh. "If we got married, would I be a Countess?"

He snorts openly, his eyes wide. "You're thinking about that are you?"

I shrug. "I think Countess Vogue McGowan of Woodhurst has a nice ring to it."

"What makes you think I'd let you keep your name?"

"Hey, don't look at me. That's a beef you'll have to take up with my dad."

He looks mock-aghast for a second before he grins. "Countess Vogue McGowan it is."

I laugh and cup his face, kissing him briefly. He gives me a serious stare and my blood runs a bit cooler.

"Aaron told us what you said about your mum. Are you sure that's what you want?"

"Yeah," I huff. "I don't want excuses or, worse, the truth about how much she resented me. Who needs to hear that?"

"True. So, you're happy? Truly happy?"

I consider his question for a while. "Yeah, I think I am. With you guys, I mean. It's fucked up, and it's not how I imagined my life would be, but when am I ever alone? When do I ever feel unloved or unprotected? Never, that's when."

Cal pulls me closer to him, our bodies aligning perfectly. "That's all we want for you—to be happy, safe with us. No matter what shit the world throws at us."

I can feel his heartbeat steady against mine, a comforting rhythm in this messed-up world. His fingers trace patterns on my back as we lie there in silence, the weight of the day slowly lifting. He doesn't need to say anything; his presence is enough.

But I can't shake the feeling that this is only a lull in the storm. That outside these walls, danger still waits like a predator – patient, silent, deadly. My mind whirls with strategies and plans, the same way it did back in Westfield when I had to be three steps ahead just to survive.

"You're thinking too hard," Cal observes, and I realise I've been gnawing at my lower lip.

"Just trying to stay ahead of the game," I respond. He understands; we both know there's always another play, another threat looming.

For a moment, I let myself forget about the dangers of this life, focusing solely on his steady and reassuring heartbeat against my ear.

"Go back to sleep," he urges softly. "I'll watch over you."

I close my eyes, willing myself to believe that, for now, at least, we're safe. But I can't rest, not now. Not now there's work to be done. I sit up again. "I think I'm going to have to go back to Crestmont, carry on studying full time there. You guys are going to need all hands on deck if things are as tight as you say they are."

He shakes his head, eyes narrowed. "You're going to have to discuss that with your dad. It's not for me to give you any ideas either way."

I nod and stand up. Quickly showering so I can face my dad decent and not looking like I was shagged by four guys not that long ago, I dress quickly and head down with Callum right behind me.

I find Dad in his office, shuffling through papers. "You're nuts, you know that?" I bark at him.

"I'm fine."

"You were shot."

"I have been before and will be again. I'm fine."

Grimacing at him as Callum ducks out, closing the door behind him so we can have some privacy, Dad finally looks up. "What?"

"Do you have a fucking death wish or something?" I spit out, my hands on my hips as I glare at him. "Jumping in front of bullets is not normal, Dad!"

He gives me a wry smile, tinged with pain. "You're my daughter. What did you expect me to do? Let them take you out?" His voice is rough, the strain of his injury obvious despite his tough front.

I shake my head, frustration boiling over. "No, but, yes… maybe?—"

"No," he cuts me off. "I did what needed to be done. End of story."

I take a deep breath, trying to calm the storm inside me. It's pointless arguing with him when he's like this – stubborn and immovable. But there's something else I need to say, something that's been nagging at me since the ambush.

"I haven't said it yet... thank you," I manage, looking away for a moment before meeting his gaze again. "For saving my life."

The room is suddenly thick with emotion, and Aaron McGowan has the grace to look surprised for a second before his face softens.

"You don't have to thank me for that," he says quietly.

"Yes, I do. Because..." My throat feels tight as I struggle with the words. "Because I love you, okay? Despite everything."

The vulnerability hanging between us is almost tangible. He nods slowly, an uncharacteristic gentleness in his eyes.

"I know it's been a fucked-up ride," he says finally. "But you're my daughter and I've always loved you, even when I wasn't around to show it. That's never been in doubt."

His admission hits me like a freight train, and for a moment, I can't speak. The tough shell we both carry around us cracks just a bit. "Alright," I say, blinking rapidly to push back the unexpected tears. "Then let me help, let me do more. Not with you but with them. Cal said about Crestmont coming back under the thumb. They need me there. I'm going back, full time."

If I expect a raging fight, I'll be disappointed. He nods slowly, eyes calculating and cold.

"It was always the intention to send you back there, as a TA. Straddling the line between staff and student. The connections you'll make will be invaluable."

"Then let me do it now. I assume you have a say over this with the university?"

He smiles. "I do. The position is already yours. I just wanted you a bit more trained up first."

"I can still train. I can train twice as hard. Just there, not here."

He exhales a long breath, a mix of resignation and respect flickering in his gaze. "Fine," he concedes gruffly. "But we tighten security around you. No arguments, Vogue. You're too valuable to risk."

My heart leaps at his agreement, but I nod sternly, unwilling to compromise on my safety—or theirs. "Understood," I agree.

"Good." Dad shuffles in his chair with a grimace, and for a second, I see the pain he's hiding. "I'll make the arrangements. But for now, rest. You've been through hell today."

I want to argue that I don't need rest, that I'm not some fragile doll to be wrapped in cotton wool. But the look in his eyes stops me—it's the same protectiveness I saw when he took that bullet for me. So instead, I cross over to him and kiss his forehead.

"Don't overdo it," I say quietly before turning to leave.

As I close the door behind me, Callum is waiting, his expression questioning. Without words, I let him see my decision in my eyes. He nods slowly, understanding without needing a verbal confirmation.

"Welcome back," he says with a smile. "Are we moving again or staying here?"

"Staying here. I cannot move again so soon. Besides. It's my place now."

He nods, understanding me completely. "Thayer and Harry are back."

"Are they okay?"

"Always." He takes my hand and leads me into the living room where the guys are strewn about on the couches, laughing like this day wasn't made from nightmares.

"You are a little shit," I grit out, pointing at Thayer. "That was my heist as much as yours."

He grins. "Oh, there'll be plenty more, sweetheart. Don't worry about that."

"Not the point. But I'll let this go for now because we all have classes tomorrow and I have a shit ton of making up to do."

"You?" Harry sits forward.

"Yeah, I'm going back. You guys are going to need all the help you can get, and who better than a new TA to learn all the goss from the staff room?"

"Oh, look at you," Harry says with a laugh. "But you're right. This will be a big coup for us."

"Hence why Dad wanted me in this position."

Callum's eyes gleam with a mix of pride and mischief as he leans back on the couch, arms crossed. "You're going to be in deep, Vogue. You sure you're up for it?"

I nod, my jaw set. "Born ready," I say. "Apparently." My past was riddled with hurdles, and this is just another one I'll have to leap over. Or bulldoze through. Whatever works.

Quentin raises an eyebrow from where he's sprawled across an armchair, his keen eyes assessing me. "We'll be backing you up. Every step of the way."

His assurance is like a steel spine straightening my resolve. I glance at each of them, my partners in crime and passion, and my pulse kicks up a notch. They believe in me, and that's all the fuel I need.