They y atop the sheets, dawn light filtering through the venetian blinds in clean, even stripes. Wolf traced his cws gently along Daisy's spotted shoulder, feeling her breathe against his chest—slow, content, the kind of rexed that didn't come easy in their line of work.

  Her apartment was nice. Really nice. Hardwood floors, decent furniture, a kitchen that actually had counter space. But it was sparse—almost Spartan. A couch. A bed. A table with two chairs. No pictures on the walls. No knickknacks cluttering the shelves. It reminded Wolf of a hotel room someone had been living in for years without ever really *settling* into.

  She didn't spend much time here. That much was obvious.

  When she was working, she was at Cruel's establishment, where everything was velvet and calcuted seduction. When she wasn't working, she was... somewhere else. Doing Goddess knew what else.

  This pce was just where she slept.

  Except now, with him.

  "You're thinkin' too loud," Daisy mumbled, her Dalmatian-spotted face nuzzling against his neck. Her cute little nose brushed against his fur. "I can practically hear the gears grindin' in that brain of yours."

  Wolf huffed a quiet ugh. "Can't help it."

  "Yeah, you can." She tilted her head up, dark eyes sleepy but sharp. Her face was beautiful—spotted, elegant, with that knowing smirk that never quite left even when she was half-asleep. "You just don't wanna."

  He didn't argue. His hand slid down her back, tracing the curve of her spine before settling on her hip. She was smaller than him—curvier, softer in all the right ways. Sexy without even trying. The spots scattered across her fur just made her more striking.

  And she'd stopped charging him years ago.

  "We're hitting Jack's compound in three days," Wolf said quietly.

  Daisy didn't stiffen. Didn't pull away. Just kept breathing against him, her tail flicking zily across his leg.

  "That's the beanstalk guy, right?" she murmured. "The one with all the magic shit?"

  "That's him."

  "And you're worried."

  It wasn't a question.

  Wolf closed his eyes. "Much the Miller's Son is doing a HALO jump. High altitude, low open. Dropping in from a mile up to get past Jack's detection wards. Minimum tech and magic—just gravity and timing."

  "Sounds dangerous."

  "It's insane." Wolf's cws flexed slightly against her hip before he forced himself to rex. "The margin for error is... it's a needle's eye, Daisy. If he opens too early, the wards catch him. Too te, he's a smear on the pavement. And the winds up there—at that altitude, this time of year—they're unpredictable."

  Daisy was quiet for a long moment. Then she shifted, propping herself up on one elbow to look down at him. Her ears flopped slightly to one side, spots catching the morning light. Her beautiful brown eyes studied him with familiar intensity.

  "You trust him?" she asked.

  Wolf met her eyes. "With my life."

  "Then why you worried?"

  "Because trusting someone doesn't make them invincible."

  Daisy studied him, then reached out and tapped his nose with one finger. "You're doin' that thing again."

  "What thing?"

  "That thing where you think you gotta control everythin' or it'll fall apart." She settled back down against his chest, her voice going soft. "Baby, you can't. You can pn every step, account for every variable, run every scenario in that big strategist brain of yours—but at some point, you gotta let people do what they're good at and trust they ain't gonna let you down."

  Wolf stared at the pin white ceiling, her words settling into the spaces between his ribs.

  "Much is a daredevil," Daisy continued, her drawl zy and warm. "That's what he *does*. You put him in an impossible situation, and he pulls it off 'cause that's when he's at his best. You take that away from him—you try to make it safe—you're just gonna make it worse."

  "He could die."

  "Yeah." Daisy's hand found his, fingers intertwining. "He could. But he ain't gonna, 'cause he's got you pnnin' everything else around him. He just gotta do his one crazy thing, and the rest of y'all make sure it matters."

  Wolf turned his head, pressing his face against the top of her head. She smelled like expensive shampoo—the kind Cruel probably provided—and something sweeter underneath. Just *her*.

  "How do you do that?" he asked quietly.

  "Do what?"

  "Make sense of things I can't."

  Daisy snorted, a very un-elegant sound that made his chest ache in a good way. "Baby, I ain't makin' sense of nothin'. I just don't overthink shit like you do."

  "You're smarter than you act."

  "And you're softer than you pretend to be." She poked him in the ribs. "We all got our acts, Wolf. Difference is, I don't try to control what I cannot."

  He ughed—actually ughed—and let his hand slide lower, squeezing her ass. She was cute like that—all curves and confidence. No shame. Just honest about what she wanted and who she was. Trailer park roots and high-css looks and wisdom that came out when you least expected it.

  He liked that about her. Liked it more than he should.

  "Thank you," he said.

  "For what? The sex or the therapy?"

  "Both."

  "Well, the sex was mutual." Daisy grinned, her face tilting up to meet his gaze. "You know how to talk your way under my tail, and that ain't somethin' I say lightly. As for the therapy..." She shrugged. "That's just 'cause I like you."

  Wolf's hand stilled against her. "You shouldn't."

  "Probably not." Daisy's expression softened. "But I do anyway. You gonna tell me that's a bad idea, Wolf?"

  He wanted to. He wanted to tell her that getting close to someone in his line of work was dangerous. That Cruel wouldn't like one of her girls getting attached. That he didn't *do* attachments because they were liabilities, complications, weaknesses waiting to be exploited.

  Instead, he kissed her.

  It was slow. Tender. The kind of kiss that meant something neither of them had words for.

  When they broke apart, Daisy's eyes were darker, her breathing slightly faster. Her tail wagged harder.

  "You're gonna pull this off," she said softly. "You, Robin, Red, all of 'em. You're gonna get that harp, and you're gonna come back here."

  "And if I don't?"

  "Then I'm gonna be real pissed at you." She ran her hand down his chest, cws trailing lightly through his fur. "So don't."

  Wolf squeezed her ass again, pulling her tighter against him. For just a moment, he let himself believe it would be that simple.

  That he'd pn everything perfectly.

  That Much would make the jump.

  That they'd steal the harp and get out clean.

  That he'd come back to this sparse apartment and the woman who somehow made him feel better.

  "I'll come back," he promised.

  Daisy's tail went steal, and her expression shifted—that familiar heat creeping back into her eyes. "Good. 'Cause you still owe me."

  "Owe you?"

  "Mmhmm." She shifted, pressing herself against him, and Wolf felt his body respond immediately. "See, the thing is, you fuck me *right*, Wolf. Real right. And now that we've had our little heart-to-heart, I'm thinkin' I want another round before you go off pyin' strategist with Robin's boys."

  Wolf groaned. "You're going to kill me."

  "Yeah, but you'd die happy," Daisy shot back with a wicked grin.

  He couldn't argue with that.

  She straddled him in one smooth motion, hands pnted on his chest, spots beautiful in the morning light. Her face was all confidence and want, no shame, no games. "I'm horny, you're good in bed, and we got time. So unless you got somewhere more important to be..."

  She rolled her hips, and Wolf's hands found her waist, then slid down to grip her ass properly. Cute. Curvy. Sexy. And completely shameless about what she wanted.

  Yeah. He really liked that about her.

  "Not a damn pce," Wolf muttered, and pulled her down into another kiss.