Back at the restaurant, everyone was waiting tensely.
Athena could feel it the mont she and Ewan stepped inside. The low hum of conversation had died down, replaced by the kind of silence that holds its breath before bad news.
She reasoned, as she slid into her earlier-occupied seat, that Aiden must have already inford them of what had happened; Ewan had kept in touch with him.
Without waiting for anyone to ask for more details, she gave them a summarized version of the eting with Fiona—her tone even, clipped, wanting to cut straight to the chase. Every pair of eyes at the table followed her as she spoke, the flickering light from the wall sconce casting long shadows across their faces.
She glanced at her children mid-story, half-expecting confusion, but their sharpened gazes told her otherwise. They weren’t bothered by the "mature talks"—their genius minds had already captured and pieced together, in a little way, everything that was happening.
Athena swallowed a quiet swell of pride.
"We’ll have to inform Spider," Susan said softly once she finished. "He didn’t co out with us because he’s still resting. Recovery slope or not, he needs to know what’s going on."
Aiden, who was now standing with his hands shoved into his pockets, nodded in agreent. His jaw was tight, the faintest twitch of muscle showing his tension. "He’ll be inford. But yes—I support the motion. The hideout will be attacked tonight. Everything Fiona said lines up with what we’ve been tracking."
Old Mr. Thorne nodded along with Aiden’s assessnt, though his eyes betrayed unease. "If that’s the case, then ti isn’t our friend. We have to move imdiately."
The atmosphere thickened, though, when Athena declared quietly that she wanted to join the mission.
Every head turned.
Chelsea and Areso froze, aghast—not because they doubted her courage, but because they didn’t know. They had never seen that side of her.
To them, she was the strategist, the intellect, the one who carried warmth and reason. None of them, except Gianna, knew she was very skilled in combat.
"No, you can’t." Sandro said first, breaking the silence. "Athena, you don’t need to co. We can handle it. You have been working incessantly since this week."
Athena only arched an eyebrow at him, her lips curling into sothing between amusent and challenge. "I’m not asking for permission, Sandro."
Gianna gave a knowing little smile beside her, her expression saying she wasn’t surprised. Her friend’s mind was most at tis, made up, before she spoke.
Ewan leaned back, folding his arms as if weighing the protest he knew would be useless. The corner of his mouth twitched. "She’s coming," he said at last, in a tone that made it sound final.
Sandro sighed, shaking his head in defeat. "And just like that, my friend has fallen under her control."
Zane, seated opposite him, gave a low scoff that carried a trace of laughter. "Under? Please. The man didn’t stand a chance."
Athena rolled her eyes at the teasing, though a faint blush brushed her cheeks. "Keep talking," she muttered, and that sent another ripple of laughter through the table—easing, if only briefly, the tightness in the air.
The mont passed, but the urgency didn’t. Plans were finalized quickly after that. It was agreed that they would head out to the hideout imdiately. Old Mr. Thorne and his wife would stay back with Athena’s friends and the children. The other n would handle the security arrangents both at Athena’s lab and the Thornes’ mansion.
Athena could feel the energy shift—chairs scraping back, shoes scuffing against the tiled floor, the scraping urgency of people readying for action. She stood too, sliding her jacket on, when sothing on the table caught her eye.
"What’s this?" she asked, pointing to the glossy card sitting at the center.
Chelsea turned toward her, adjusting her glasses with a small smile. "Oh, that. The owner of the restaurant ca by earlier. He offered us discounts — said he wanted us to take pictures and post them on social dia to boost his company’s visibility."
Athena’s brow furrowed slightly, curiosity piqued. "The owner? How is he? An old man?"
Before Chelsea could answer, Gianna leaned forward eagerly, her expression alight with amusent. "Old? Not at all. He’s handso. Italian."
That was enough to make the kids perk up, all nodding in playful agreent.
Susan chuckled under her breath and joined in. "He really is. The accent alone, Athena—my God."
Athena tilted her head, half-smiling as her gaze caught Areso’s. Her friend was blushing furiously, eyes fixed on her phone as though it might save her from the attention.
Athena’s brows rose. "Areso?"
Her friend flinched slightly at being called out, then gave a weak laugh, waving her hand. "Oh, stop. I’m not—"
But the redness in her cheeks deepened, betraying her.
Athena was amazed. "So... my dear friend has a crush on the Italian, hm?"
She had called out the latter out of sheer curiosity, but it seed sothing else had happened with the coming of the Italian boss. And she wished she had seen the male that had headstrong Areso in knots this way—a very rare sight.
Gianna burst into laughter while Chelsea grinned, shaking her head. "That’s exactly what I was thinking! She practically lted when he smiled."
"I did not lt," Areso said quickly, though her voice carried that lilt of soone who absolutely had. "He just... seed nice. That’s all."
"Nice," Gianna repeated, drawing the word out teasingly. "Sure."
Athena laughed softly, shaking her head. "Let’s let Areso be. Let’s move. We have little ti."
The laughter faded naturally, replaced by the focused tension that ca with readiness.
Ewan ca to stand beside her, his hand brushing lightly against hers as they turned to leave. "Have I told you, you look beautiful today?" he murmured.
Athena looked up at him, an edge of a smile still on her lips. "Maybe..."
He had said it more tis than she could count. But a girl could never get tired of being complinted by her partner.
Her fingers curled into his, and he squeezed back, a silent promise passing between them.
"You are beautiful, my love..."
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