Page 83

RYDER

The movie ended about fifteen minutes ago.

Cade was passed out cold in one of the reclining chairs, head tipped toward Sassy’s shoulder, mouth slightly open.

I nudged him with my knee, careful not to jostle her.

She didn’t stir, which didn’t surprise me.

My girl slept like a corpse. Unless it was one of her four alarms or a fire drill, she wasn’t waking up.

I slid one arm under her knees and the other around her back, lifting her without effort.

“Got her?” Cade asked, rubbing his face as he slowly sat up.

“I always do.” I adjusted her in my arms. “Head out, get the car ready. I’ll meet you.”

Everyone else had already migrated upstairs.

The smell of popcorn lingered faintly as I carried her through the hallway and up from the basement.

The living room was alive with conversation and scattered pizza boxes, a low hum of laughter rising over the end credit music still looping faintly from downstairs.

Sugarmama paused mid-sip of her wine as I passed, her eyes sharp and knowing.

My sister caught my gaze from the couch, one leg draped over Shakira’s, whispering something with a grin that made me certain they were talking about us.

Sassy curled into my chest as I carried her up the next staircase and down the hall, instinctively tucking herself closer like she always did.

She fit perfectly against me, weightless and warm, her breath feathering against my collar.

I nudged her bedroom door open with my shoe.

The room was dark, the only light source coming from the hallway and a thin silver streak spilling in from the slightly open curtains.

I laid her gently on the bed, her head sinking into the pillow.

Her brows twitched like she might wake, but she didn’t, just mumbled something under her breath and shifted, one hand reaching out like she was looking for me.

I pulled the blanket up around her shoulders, smoothing it down.

Then I moved to the window and tugged the curtains shut, leaving just a narrow slit of light cutting across the room.

When I turned back, her eyes were half open, glazed with sleep. “You’re leaving?” she whispered.

“Only for a bit,” I said, crouching beside her. I brushed a loose strand of hair away from her cheek. “Go to sleep, Sass. I’ll be back.”

“Later?”

“Later tonight.” I leaned in and kissed her cheek.

She nodded, then she drifted off again.

I lingered for a second, watching her, everything inside me going still. She looked so peaceful, tangled in her sheets, the room hushed around her like the world had hit pause. This was what I wanted. Not just now, but always.

I stood, gave her one more glance, and pulled the door shut behind me on my way out.

I moved through the house, barely glancing around.

Mom was deep in conversation with Sassy’s parents, so I managed to slip out quietly.

The night air cut across my skin as I jogged down the driveway and crossed the street, but I welcomed the sting.

I needed the clarity, knowing whatever I was about to do wasn’t going to be clean.

The Voss estate loomed ahead, iron gates already parted like jaws waiting to close.

The windows stood dark and still, watching me like unblinking eyes as I walked jogged.

A pair of cars idled off to the right. Inside, the foyer stretched two stories tall, the marble floor slick beneath my shoes.

The chandelier above cast fractured shapes across the family portraits that lined the staircase.

I ignored the grand staircase spiraling toward the family’s private quarters, bypassed the sitting room, and the library.

I didn’t pause at the double doors to the dining room where Cade and I used to sneak pastries during our parents’ endless charity galas.

Those moments belonged to someone else, some version of us who hadn’t learned yet what it meant to live with blood on our hands.

My steps echoed as I reached the far end of the hall.

My father’s office door loomed like a monolith—heavy mahogany carved with intricate patterns; the brass handles polished to a soft gleam. The space behind it always felt more like a war room than a workspace.

I pushed the doors open and stepped inside.

The office was cavernous, every inch curated to intimidate.

Floor-to-ceiling shelves lined the walls, filled with legal volumes and hardbound editions that no one dared to move.

The scent of aged paper clung to the air, cut with leather and bourbon.

Behind the desk, a massive portrait dominated the space.

Us.

My father stood at the center, hand resting on the back of my mother’s chair, expression carved from stone. Cade grinned off to the left, his arm draped around Cadence’s shoulder like it was effortless.

My mother sat serene beneath my father’s hand, poised and proud.

I stood on the right, one hand in my pocket, the other on my mother’s chair back, positioned like I was part of the foundation.

Under that portrait, my father sat now, exactly the same.

Straight-backed, fingers steepled beneath his chin, steel in his gaze.

Cade leaned against the desk’s edge, arms crossed, his face unreadable, but he was watching me.

I shut the door behind me and took in my father’s getup. His Crowsfell varsity jacket from back in the day, the one with his last name stitched across the back in bold white letters, paired with a baseball cap pulled low over his eyes. The man looked like he was about to go tailgating.

“What are you wearing?”

My brother laughed. “I asked the same thing.”

“Let me live, boys,” Dad stressed with a grin sliding across his face as he adjusted the cap. “It’s not every night I get to go for a joyride with my favorite lady.”

I dropped into a chair opposite his desk, sinking into the leather seat. Dad’s grin melted into something far more serious.

“Alright,” he said, flipping open the file folder in front of him, eyes sharp. “Let’s start with Brooke Stanton.”

“Were you able to find anything?”

Dad’s lips twitched, a dark, satisfied smirk that said he knew something we didn’t. “The cleanest of people have at least one blot, boys,” he replied, sliding a stack of papers toward me. “And if she were some saint, trust me, she wouldn’t have been when I was finished.”

Cade leaned forward, eyes on the folder like it held the secrets of the universe. Meanwhile, I kept my expression steady, gaze level, waiting.

“Frankie’s already started making moves on his end,” Dad continued, his fingers tapping a steady rhythm on the desk.

That was great news.

If Frankie Sterling was involved, the outcome was inevitable.

In Hemlock Heights, there were only a handful of men you didn’t cross.

Billy Voss was one. Enzo Marino, another.

And Frankie? He didn’t just rank, he ruled.

He was a young Brando with sharper edges and psychopathic charm as dangerous as his silence.

Dad’s gaze locked on mine, cutting through the room’s stale air. “So,” he said, “when are you ending it with the girl?”

The name didn’t need to be spoken aloud. It hung between us like the gun on the table no one had reached for. “Once everything is handled. Officially.”

Cade said nothing. Still perched beside the desk, arms crossed, gaze fixed just past me. Watching. Listening. Waiting. Dad’s eyes stayed on mine. He didn’t speak right away, which said more than any actual words could. Finally, he gave a short nod.

“You’re playing it smart. That’s good. There’s a difference between solving a problem and making a mess.”

“We don’t like messes,” Cade remarked.

Dad grinned. “You two make me proud.”

That was nice to hear, but I was more interested in getting this over with.

I’d been working toward this for months.

Could I have finished things clean-cut? Possibly.

But the last thing I was going to do was leave Sassy open to that possibility.

It didn’t matter if the odds were one percent or point-zero-one.

If there was any chance Brooke would try something, I was eliminating it before she even considered doing so.

Sassy had enough to deal with.

She wasn’t going to be in fallout from something I allowed to fester.

Not now. Not ever again. Once this was done?

Once every piece was where it needed to be, and Brooke was silenced and gone?

I’d get to tell the world Sanjana was mine, wait a few months before upgrading that claim with a ring.

That’s what you did when you knew. You built and planned for a future where your girl would live like a fucking empress.

Dad’s mouth quirked. “I know you two won’t screw this up either.

” The grin vanished as fast as it came, his expression darkening with the kind of weight he rarely wore unless it counted.

“Don’t be a fucking fool like I was. Don’t hurt my other daughter.

If you’re going to do this, be damn sure you’re ready to commit. ”

Cade gave him a look on my behalf, his voice steady steel. “He would’ve wifed Sanj in kindergarten if it were legal. He’s not the one you have to worry about. This whole waiting game’s been torture.”

Dad gave a single nod, his gaze still on me. “You alright?”

That was code for him asking if I was holding it together. I met his stare and let a slow grin pull at my mouth. “I’m great. After tonight? I’ll be even better.”

The office door swung open. My mom stepped in like wearing dark jeans, a fitted black jacket, and with effortless poise in her red-bottom heels.

“Would it kill you to knock, Tiff?”

She stopped and planted her hands on her hips. “Whose house is this, Billy?”

He sighed, long-suffering and theatrical, but the corner of his mouth twitched. “Yours.”