I tip my head toward the room, and after a second’s hesitation, he steps inside.
“You can stay,” I tell him.“All of you.We’re not shoving family out while this breaks.”I catch Cleo’s eyes.She nods once, small and sure, and it steadies me from the inside.“But you follow our lead in here.No scenes.No throwing punches because we’re too close or because ...She sets the pace.”
Roderick looks to Cleo.“Is that what you want?”
She lifts her chin.“Yes.”
He swallows, nods once.
Barret moves beside me, voice even.“When the authorities confirm anything, your PR will release one statement.Clean.Respectful.It says the Wilder family is requesting privacy and won’t be available for interviews.It asks the public to give space while the investigation concludes.”He glances at me.I pick it up.
“It buys time,” I add.“Not a lie.A boundary.”
Roderick studies us like he’s weighing the cost of trusting the men who love his sister.His throat works.“And Dorian?”
Barret’s mouth hardens.“We’re handling him.”
Roderick steps closer, face inches from mine like he wants to read truth off my skin.“Handling him isn’t enough.”
“I know,” I say.“We’ll finish it when it’s time.You have to be fucking patient.”
Rain ticks at the window.Cleo’s fingers find mine.Barret’s hand settles at the small of her back.Roderick sees it—the three of us linked—and some of the fight bleeds from his shoulders.
“Fine,” he says at last.“We stay.We keep the statement ready.If they find—” He stops, swallows it down.“If it comes to that, we release it.But you loop me in on Dorian.”
“You’ll be looped,” I say.“But you don’t move without us.”
His mouth twists.“Control freak.”
“Survivor,” I counter.“Pick your label.”
Another beat.The storm outside sighs against the glass.
Roderick turns to his right, raises his voice just enough for the hallway.“You hear that?We’re staying.Nobody breathes a word to the press.If anyone asks, the family has no comment.”Footsteps shuffle.Someone mutters agreement.He looks back at Cleo.“I might let them live, but I’m not happy about this.”
Cleo’s eyes soften.“Thank you.”
He nods, then fixes Barret and me with a look that promises both gratitude and hell if we fail.“Make this worth it.”
“It already is,” Barret says.
I crack the door open to let Roderick out.He pauses on the threshold.“And Eddie?”
“Yeah?”
“If I hear she cried because of you?—”
“She’ll only cry because we held her too close,” I say, no apology in it.“That, I can’t promise to avoid.”
He huffs a rough sound that might be a laugh if the world were kinder, then heads down the hall.
The door clicks shut.The quiet returns, fragile but ours.
Cleo leans into us, her head tipping between my shoulder and Barret’s chest.“You two sure you can handle a house full of Wilders?”
Barret presses a kiss to her hair.“We can handle anything.”
I rest my mouth against her temple, breathing her in.“Especially this.”
