Dev’s hand fell gently on Julia’s shoulder, whisper-soft, reassuring. He slid into the chair beside her, his question directed to Alec. “What do we know?”
Alec filled him in. “Private party in Hollywood. Male dom by the name of Parker. The scene escalated beyond negotiation. Multiple people intervened.”
Dev’s gaze never left Julia. A muscle ticked in his jaw. “Find him. Related or not.”
The words landed flat and absolute.
“Already working on it,” Callan replied.
“I want a full name, address, employment, vehicles, associates, financials. Everything.” Dev’s voice remained calm. “If he so much as jaywalked on the way home last night, I want that too.”
No one in the room mistook the fury beneath the control.
Beside her, Emily folded her arms tighter.
Julia sat still. Because suddenly the room no longer felt like an office. It felt like the moment before a manhunt.
Dev crossed the room and crouched beside Julia’s chair, his expression softer now. “You don’t need to worry about him,” he said quietly. “We’ll handle it.”
The knot in her chest loosened at the certainty in his voice.
“But we need details,” he continued gently. “Everything you remember. Can you do that?”
Julia nodded.
“Good girl,” Dev murmured automatically. A faint smile touched his mouth. “Sorry. Habit.”
Despite everything, the corner of her mouth twitched.
“I know about the others.” She swallowed, and this time, her hand rose all the way to the bruises. “Do you think it could have been him last night?”
“Maybe it’s unrelated,” he said. “But I don’t believe in coincidences anymore.”
His hand lifted, almost reaching for hers, but stopped. She knew he was being careful with her. The Devil she knew from the club wouldn’t have been so reserved. A squeeze or a pat from someone she trusted wouldn’t have been unwelcome right now.
He rose. “Do you need coffee, water, or something to eat?”
“No, Master Dev. But thank you.”
His smile warmed. “It’s Dev here, Julia. We’ll talk about you coming home to Devil’s Pointe later.”
It wasn’t a question up for debate. It made her feel wanted, cared for, and she almost welcomed that discussion.
When he moved to the head of the table and took a seat, Alec took the chair beside hers again. “Describe him to Callan. We’ll search for matches in The Underground’s surveillance footage.”
“He was about six feet tall. Brown hair. Brown eyes, I think, but the lights were low.”
“Weight?” Callan asked from behind his laptop.
“I don’t know,” she said, not a good judge. “About your size, I guess.”
He nodded as he typed. “Race?”
“I assumed white, but he could have been Hispanic. No accent that I noticed.”
“This will take a few minutes,” Callan said.
Dev asked, “Whose party was it, Julia?”
