I cringed. "We'd be expanding the circle. More people at risk."
"We'd be gaining leverage," Michael corrected. "Right now, you're reacting to their moves. That's how you lose."
"You sure about this?"
"I'm sure about family. I'm sure about not letting my brother get hunted through the streets by people with unlimited resources and flexible ethics. We need eyes and leverage. We're not staying passive."
Dorian straightened slightly. "What kind of timeline?"
Alex appeared in the doorway, holding two cups of coffee. "Sorry to interrupt, but I couldn't help but overhear." He handed one cup to Michael. "As one of the men here without McCabe DNA, can I voice the obvious concern?"
He looked at Dorian directly. "No offense, but you've brought killers to a family dinner. These aren't white-collar criminals or street dealers. They're professionals with institutional backing." His voice stayed calm but firm. "The smart play is to get Dorian into federal protection and let the FBI handle this."
Michael set down his coffee. "Alex is right about the risk, but they've already made it personal by threatening family. Walking away now just means we get eliminated separately instead of having a chance to fight back together."
Alex rubbed his temples. "I know that look. You've already decided." He sighed. "Fine, but we do this smart. Full operational security, federal coordination, and exit strategies at every stage."
"Tomorrow, we start moving pieces. Danny owes me lunch anyway. I'll feel him out and see what kind of support we can access without triggering official channels."
The back door opened, and Ma appeared carrying a plate with the cookies James provided us as our contribution to the dinner. Her timing was impeccable—or maybe she'd been listening.
"Figured you boys might need fuel for whatever you're planning out here." She set the tray on the porch table Dad had built from salvaged deck boards.
Without saying more, she disappeared back into the house. Michael spoke. "So, tomorrow we stop playing defense and start hunting the hunters."
Alex waited until the door closed. "Ma doesn't know what she's agreeing to help with. None of your family does, not really." He looked at Michael. "If this goes wrong, she could lose all four of her sons in one night."
His voice cracked just slightly, and he looked away like he hoped we hadn't noticed.
I lowered my voice. "Then we make sure it doesn't go wrong."
Alex looked from Michael to me and back again. "You're not thinking clearly. Either of you." He gestured toward Dorian. "Three days ago, you were strangers. Now you're willing to risk your family's lives for him?"
"Yes," I answered without hesitation.
Alex nodded slowly. "Okay. Then we'd better make sure he's worth it."
I turned toward Dorian. "You okay with this?"
He picked up a cookie. "I've been running alone for eight months. Having backup—yeah, I'm okay with this."
The night settled around us. Tonight, we sat on my mother's back porch, drinking coffee and eating cookies. Tomorrow, we'd take the fight to people who thought they could hunt us with impunity.
Chapter fourteen
Dorian
Iwoke just before dawn, lying motionless beside Matthew, listening to what wasn't there. No footsteps on gravel. No engine vibrations. No radio chatter filtering through the trees. After dinner with Ma, we returned to the cabin, hoping our pursuers had stopped by and noted everything temporarily gone.
They wouldn't expect us to return. At least, that was the story we wanted to tell. I knew we weren't really safe anywhere.
Matthew's breathing remained deep and even, with one arm thrown across his eyes. I counted the rhythm of his chest rising and falling, using it to hold myself in the moment instead of spinning through escape scenarios.
After a few more minutes, I slipped from beneath the wool blankets, my bare feet hitting the cold hardwood. The floorboards creaked. I'd learned the noisiest spots on our first night in the cabin, so I stepped around the worst.
When I reached the kitchen, I lifted the old percolator from its propane burner and filled it with water that ran clear and cold from the well pump. Matthew didn't stir.
While the coffee heated, I looked out the kitchen window and examined the treeline. Douglas firs stood like sentries, branches heavy with moisture.
