"Benedict thinks you're the best thing that's ever happened to me." He pauses. "He's not wrong."
I squeeze his hand as we watch his brothers emerge from their cars. Josiah moves like Gabriel—controlled, deliberate, every gesture economical. Benedict is looser, more expansive, pausing to say something to Josiah that earns him a flat stare.
"They're so different," I murmur. "And yet so similar."
"We were raised by the same monster. Shaped by the same expectations. It's only natural we'd share certain... traits."
"Is that what you call it? Traits?"
His mouth curves. "Would you prefer 'damage'?"
Before I can answer, the front door opens, and the sounds of arrival fill the house—James greeting the brothers, footsteps in the foyer, Benedict's voice carrying up the stairs.
"Once more unto the breach," Gabriel mutters, and leads me down to meet them.
Dinner is... not what I expected.
I'd braced myself for tension, for the subtle power plays and veiled hostilities I'd witnessed at previous family gatherings. But tonight is different. Tonight, there's something almost approaching warmth.
Josiah asks about my opinion on literature—genuine questions, not polite small talk. Benedict, meanwhile, has appointed himself the baby's unofficial spokesperson. He presents his research on the best equestrian programs forchildren, the best schools in the region, the best security protocols for a child of her "status." He's thought of everything, planned for every contingency.
"You're going to be a nightmare of an uncle," Gabriel tells him dryly.
"I'm going to be thebestuncle." Benedict grins. "Someone has to spoil her rotten when you're being overbearing and tyrannical."
"I'm not overbearing."
"You literally had James run a background check on the pediatrician."
"She'll be treating my daughter. I wanted to ensure—"
"Overbearing," Benedict and I say simultaneously, and something breaks open in the room—the tension dissolving into something lighter, almost like laughter.
Josiah catches my eye across the table and gives me the smallest nod. Approval. Acceptance. Welcome to the family, such as it is.
Later, after Benedict has retired to the guest wing and Josiah is nursing a final glass of scotch by the fire, I find myself alone with Gabriel's eldest brother.
"You're good for him," Josiah says without preamble. "I wasn't certain, at first. Gabriel has always been... volatile. I worried you might be collateral damage in whatever chaos he created."
"And now?"
"Now I see the way he looks at you. The way he's changed." Josiah swirls his drink, watching the firelight play through the amber liquid. "Our father tried to break him. Turnhim into nothing but a weapon. I thought he'd succeeded. But you found something in him that survived."
"I didn't find it. It was always there. He just needed someone to see it."
Josiah studies me for a long moment. "Take care of him," he says finally. "And let us help. We're not... demonstrative, the Ambroses. We don't do sentiment well. But Gabriel is our brother, and that child is our niece. We protect our own."
"Even from yourselves?"
The question surprises him. Then, slowly, he smiles—a rare expression that transforms his cold features into something almost human.
"Especially from ourselves. We know what we are, Poppy. The danger we represent. But for that little girl..." He nods toward my belly. "For her, we'll try to be something better."
It's not a guarantee. It's not even a promise. But from Josiah Ambrose, it's more than I ever expected.
"Thank you," I say.
He inclines his head, and the moment passes.
