Talon breaks into loud, delighted laughter. “Baby, I couldn’t even get it up for that woman at the club. You think anyone else is going to do it for me? It’s you. Only you.”
Silas nods once. “Then it’s decided. We only see Angel, and she only sees us. If anything ever changes, we say it right away. That’s the only way this works.”
We all nod.
Talon interrupts, “I’m not touching any dicks.”
Gideon mutters, “I’m going to develop ulcers.”
Silas smirks, satisfied. “Problem solved.”
“It’s not solved,” I say, but the tightness in my chest eases anyway. “It’s… labeled.”
Gideon looks between the three of us, then back down at the spread of papers. “We have a blackmail school, a missing husband, a hidden sister, a manipulative almost-stepmother, and a TA dating her student while she’s also dating his two uncles.”
He lifts his gaze to mine.
“This should be a disaster,” he says. “And it might still be. But none of us are doing it alone.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
SILAS
Penelope looks wreckedin the most beautiful way. Tired eyes, tight jaw, bravado hanging on by a thread. Talon looks like a kicked dog and a cornered wolf at the same time. Gideon looks like he is already five steps ahead and halfway into a legal argument and a tactical raid.
I feel all of it. In my chest. Under my skin.
“Okay,” Penelope says, rubbing her forehead. “I’m tapped. I need a shower and something that isn’t crisis-flavored coffee.”
Gideon softens. “Go. Clean up. Eat something if you can.”
She nods and slips off toward the bathroom, bare feet whispering across the hardwood.
Talon hesitates like he wants to follow, then aborts and heads for the balcony instead. He scrubs a hand over his face. “I’m gonna step outside. I need air.”
Gideon raises an eyebrow. “Do that. Don’t jump.”
Talon gives a half-hearted middle finger on his way out.
The moment the door shuts, Gideon turns toward the laptop on the table. He cracks his knuckles and sits, pulling the screen closer.
“I’ll keep digging,” he says. “There’s more in here than Abi ever intended someone else to see.”
That’s an understatement. The USB is like a pressure cooker just waiting for someone to tap it. Every file he opens feels like pulling teeth out of a corpse—ugly, necessary, and confirming everything we feared.
I slide into the chair beside him. “As you open them, I’ll read over your shoulder. We’ll split it, two sets of eyes are faster than one.”
He nods and starts typing, opening file after file. Clinic schedules. Administrative memos. Redacted notes. This place runs like a prison with better lighting.
Gideon pulls up a document. “This one’s new. Entered just yesterday.”
Student Evaluation Rotation – The student is to be brought to the clinic for yearly evaluation. Mother has suggested meds to help with memory. Pharmacist suggested Halcion or Sonata. Needs pat down and nurse escort to clinic.
My stomach tightens as I scan down the list. Then I see it.
Grant, Minxy S.
Annual Evaluation – Wednesday, 10:30 AM
