Wren slid into the corner booth where Ryder and Terry were already nursing longnecks, the low light catching the strain in their faces. Their words carried the kind of weight men only shared in private, when the noise of the world dimmed just enough to let truth breathe.
“What’d you do?” Terry asked, his tone edged with worry but firm as a brother’s hand on your shoulder.
Ryder’s jaw tightened, his gaze flicking briefly toward Wren. “What any real man would do,” he said, the words heavy with grit. “I beat the hell outta them.” His hand cut through the air in a sharp gesture. “With his help.”
Wren pulled a chair closer, lowering himself down with the ease of a cowboy who’d seen enough blood and dirt in an arena to recognize its echoes in a man’s eyes. “We’re talking about the scumbags fr
