Controlling.
Precise.
Useful.
And somehow, tonight, exactly what I needed.
“I’ll send it.”
“I’ll take care of it.”
The call ended a minute later, and I stood in the back hall holding the phone like I didn’t recognize it.
Ryan appeared in the kitchen doorway.
He didn’t ask.
I looked at him anyway. “He’s sending security.”
Ryan’s brows lifted slightly. “Harrison?”
“Yeah.”
“And?”
“And an attorney.”
“And?”
I swallowed, hating that he knew there was more.
“And he asked if I loved her.”
Ryan’s expression shifted, just enough. “What’d you say?”
I glanced toward the ceiling, toward the room where Bliss was probably arguing with Aura about medication or telling Charm Hockey House needed feminine energy and a candle that didn’t smell like men with scholarships.
“I said yes.”
Ryan nodded slowly. “Good.”
“Yeah.”
“You okay?”
“No.”
He almost smiled. “Still didn’t think so.”
Within forty minutes, two black SUVs rolled up outside Hockey House.
By then, the sun had dipped low enough that the windows reflected the neon Fury sign hanging in the living room and turned the glass into streaks of pink and yellow against the dark. Rider saw them first from the front window and gave one low whistle that brought everyone downstairs except Bliss, who immediately yelled from my room that if we were starting a secret meeting without her, she was reporting us for emotional exclusion.
The security team did not look like campus rent-a-cops.
Four men. Two women. Plain clothes. Sharp eyes. Earpieces small enough most people would miss them. One of the men introduced himself as Cole and shook my hand with the kind of grip that told me he’d broken things professionally before retiring into private work. He already had Harrison’s notes, the layout pulled up on a tablet, and a list of questions that made Briggs whisper, “Holy shit, your dad panic-orders like a billionaire Batman.”
Charm, coming down the stairs with Aura to see what was happening, stared at the SUVs through the window. “That is a lot of security.”
