Sally's POV
The afternoon sun streams through the kitchen windows, but Jackson hasn't moved from his spot at the table. His sleeves are pushed up past his elbows, and his hair looks like he's dragged his fingers through it repeatedly. The notebook in front of him is filled with scribbled notes and crossed-out lines.
My mates have formed a semicircle around him. Karl stands against the counter, radiating that controlled Alpha energy that makes the air feel charged. Philip sits on the island's edge, swinging his legs like he's trying to burn off nervous energy. Ajax and Sean have claimed the remaining chairs, both leaning forward with matching expressions of determination.
From the living room comes the soft sound of Warren humming to himself, completely absorbed in building something elaborate with his Lego collection.
