Donovan shrugged. “Mabel said that level of pain is normal for her, but it seems kind of extreme. It’s not like the Mystics have much in the way of real doctors over there. They’re more likely to shove a crystal up your ass and send you on your way.”

“Donovan.”

He grins at Sonya, completely unrepentant. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

“The Mystics have plenty of healers.” She tries to glare at him, but her lips curve a little.

“Healers, not doctors. Rae has a fucking medical degree. They didn’t just wake up one day, check the stars, and decide they knew a single damn thing about human bodies.”

This conversation has the feel of well-tread ground, which means it could go on for some time. I stride over to where we left our phones and check the time. I have to go if I’m going to make it to Amazon territory in time to pick up Monroe and Shiloh at the end of the day. “I’ll catch you all later.”

Cohen walks with me into the house. He doesn’t speak until we climb the stairs and approach my room. “You taking care of the Monroe problem?”

“Yeah. I’ve got it covered.” It’s even the truth. Really, I should thank Abel for being such a fucking asshole about this, because he’s paved the way for me to take what I want. I have to, after all. For the greater good of the territory and the Raider faction.

I’m a fucking liar.

I duck into the bedroom and take a quick shower. I made a few trips this morning from the room I was essentially squatting in and this one, transferring my stuff back into the closet. Or at least a corner of the closet available. Between Monroe’s stuff and Shiloh’s stuff, there isn’t much space.

I take slightly more care in dressing than I would normally. A navy suit with a crisp white button-down. I could blame it on being about to enter enemy territory, but the truth is that I want to look good for my women.

My women.

Calling either of them mine feels strange and not entirely accurate. But it’s not not accurate, either. What we have is messy in the extreme, but I’m enjoying it despite myself.

Driving out of the compound feels strange. I don’t leave the walled space that often. Abel runs the territory. Cohen runs our forces. Donovan, Ezekiel, Finnegan, and Gabriel all have smaller responsibilities geared in different specialties. Things are a little different now that Abel has Harlow and Eli as Brides. Harlow has become his Bride wrangler. Eli is his bridge between the past eight years of absence and our presence here now.

And me? I run the household.