Rowan shakes his head like he’s trying to understand what he’s seeing.
“She just turned eighteen,” he says slowly, voice shaking with barely leashed rage, “three days before this was taken. I remember because I was the one who planned the party; her dad wouldn’t allow her to sign to our label until she turned 18.”
Rowan lets out a short and furious laugh. “I trained him. I taught him how to manage artists, how to protect them, how to keeppredatorsaway from them.” His voice drops, raw and vicious. “And I handed those girls to a predator.”
These pictures show a pattern of a man who knew exactly where the lines were and crossed them anyway.
Rowan lowers the phone like it suddenly weighs a thousand pounds. His shoulders sag for a heartbeat before squaring again. “I put him in rooms alone with them. I vouched for him. I told parents he was safe.”
Korbyn folds in on herself, grief collapsing inward, and Shiloh is there instantly, anchoring one arm around her, the other braced at her back. She murmurs something low andgrounding meant to slow her breathing and to keep her tethered to her body. Linkin paces a tight line across the rig, jaw clenched, fists flexing at his sides like he’s afraid of what he’ll do if he doesn’t keep moving.
Rowan’s hands curl into fists.
“This stops here,” he says, voice iron-hard and vibrating with restraint. “I swear to God, I will kill him.”
No one corrects him or says anything to redirect his anger. In one way or another, we have all been subject to predatory behavior in this industry. Rowan established the label for his sister and runs his empire in a way any brother would be proud of.
And for the first time since this started, I’m not thinking about Lucian at all. What just surfaced in this rig is bigger than my heartbreak.
“I feel sick,” Korbyn whispers.
I drop to my knees in front of her, the vinyl floor cold through my pants, and take her hands before she can pull them away. Her fingers are ice-cold, trembling faintly in mine. “Hey. Look at me,” I say gently. “We’re going to handle this. Whatever this is, you’re not doing it alone.”
She nods, but it’s reflexive, like her mind is already somewhere else, replaying moments that no longer make sense.
Rowan exhales slowly through his nose, forcing himself back into control. “Okay,” he says, tone shifting into something colder. “First thing, you donotgo back to the house alone.”
“I don’t want to go back at all,” Korbyn says, barely audible.
“Then you won’t,” Shiloh replies immediately, squeezing her shoulder. “We’ll pack what you need. We will all go with you.”
“I need to call legal,” Rowan adds, his jaw tightening. “And I’m pulling him off any active management duties starting right now.”
Linkin stops pacing so abruptly that it’s like he hit a wall. “Okay,” he says, decisive now. “We need to move you.”
Korbyn blinks up at him, still dazed. “Move me where? What are we even talking about?”
“James is your husband, and he most likely has keys to your rig. We need to move you somewhere he doesn’t have access to,” he replies flatly.
Rowan exhales sharply. “He does have keys; he’s had spare keys since we got our rig.”
“I’ll switch beds with her,” Linkin says immediately.
Rowan turns toward him. “That means you’d be bunking with me.”
“Thrilling,” Linkin deadpans. “I’ve always wanted to listen to you grind your teeth through the night. Maybe you can give me a tattoo in my sleep. I’ve always wondered if I could sleep through a tattoo.”
Rowan snorts despite himself, then sobers. “That works. Are you good with that, Korb?”
Korbyn hesitates, then shakes her head slightly. “I don’t want to be alone,” she says quietly, the words barely making it past her lips.
“You won’t be,” Shiloh says at once. “You can stay with me instead.”
I nod in agreement as Rowan’s attention shifts, his gaze sliding past me toward the doorway.
Lucian stands there; somehow, he made it in the rig without us noticing.
Rowan lowers his voice instinctively. “Korbyn will stay with Celeste,” he says, the decision clicking into place. “Lucian’s already positioned between the door and the bedroom. If anything happens—”
