“Ella,” Callum barks from the hall, “we have company. I need you to get dressed and come downstairs as soon as possible.”

I clear my throat. “Yeah, okay. I’ll be right down.” I cringe as I realize my voice is coming from Reed’s room.

Callum hesitates and then says, “Wake up Reed and bring him with you.”

Awkward. I hastily pull my jeans up and grab a sweater from the dresser. Reed’s taking his sweet time.

“Babe, it’s going to be fine. You’ve still got your V-card. I’ll tell Dad that.”

I fly over and slap my hand over his mouth. “Oh my God. You will not. We’re not talking about this with Callum. Ever.”

Reed rolls his eyes as he moves my hand off his face. “Don’t worry about it. All he’s gonna do is yell at us.”

“Why’s he waking us up in the middle of the night to do it?” I ask.

“It’s more dramatic that way. He gets to make a big point about how we need to be careful, and shit like that.” He winces when I drag him toward the door.

I instantly drop his hand. “Does your side hurt?”

He winds his arm slowly, testing the wound. “Just sore. I’ll be good to go in a few days, don’t you worry.”

Now it’s my turn to give him a disgusted look. “I wasn’t even thinking about that. You did do something while we were at dinner, didn’t you?”

He gives a small shrug, “Nothing important. I told you, I pulled a couple of stitches, but it’s no big deal.”

Callum greets the two of us at the landing that bisects his wing from ours before the stairs descend to the main floor. He has a pair of trousers on and a white dress shirt that’s misbuttoned.

“Dad,” Reed says warily. “What’s up?”

His father’s wild eyes dart between us. “Where were you tonight?” An unsteady breath flies out. “No, don’t tell me. The less I know right now, the better.”

Reed takes a step forward. “What the fuck is going on?”

Callum rakes both hands through his hair. “The police are here. They want to talk to you about your whereabouts tonight. Don’t say anything until Grier gets here.”

I recognize Grier as one of the names lettered on the door in gold at the lawyer’s office where Steve’s will was read.

“Is it about Daniel? Did they catch the hoodie guy?” I blurt out.

Silence. The longest silence imaginable, leaving me plenty of time to conjure up the scariest, most gruesome scenarios. But none of them come close to triggering the panic I hear when Callum finally answers.

“Brooke is dead—”

What?

“—and Reed is a person of interest in her murder,” he grinds out. His eyes are locked on Reed’s face, which has gone completely pale.

Oh my God.

Instinctively, my gaze drops to Reed’s side, where his bandage is probably turning bloody as we speak. Then I look back at Callum, my mouth opening and closing and opening and closing.

“How did this happen?”

“I moved a bit… It’s no big deal.”

The moment the thought surfaces, I want to slap myself for even thinking it. No. No way. No matter how much he hated her, Reed would never…he would never…

Would he?

You know I’d do anything for you… Absolutely anything to keep you safe.

“Mr. Royal,” a voice calls from the bottom of the stairs. A tired man in a rumpled suit places a hand on the banister and a foot on the first step. “The warrant’s been signed. Your son will have to come with us.”

“Who signed that bullshit?” Callum demands as he charges down the stairs.

The man holds a piece of paper up. “Judge Delacorte.”

As Callum snatches the paper out of his hand, the man charges up the stairs followed by two police officers I hadn’t noticed before. One of them grabs a silent Reed and turns him around, pushing him up against the banister.

“There’s no need for that.” Callum sprints back up the stairs. “He’ll go with you willingly.”

“Sorry, Mr. Royal. Standard procedure,” the man explains, but he looks awfully smug about this.

“Do not say one word,” Callum instructs his son. “Not one.”

Reed’s eyes burn as he stares at me.

I love you.

I love you, too.

I’ll do anything.

We need to find a way to get rid of her.

I want to erase Brooke from our lives.

I love you.

“I love you,” I whisper as the officer drags him away.

A fierce look passes over his face, but he doesn’t say a word—and I don’t know if that’s because he’s afraid to say anything or because he’s following his dad’s orders.

My entire body starts shaking. Callum slides an arm around me. “Go upstairs, get some shoes on and I’ll take you to the police station.”

“The boys,” I say weakly. “We should get the rest of them.” I can see he’s on the verge of saying no, but it’s the wrong call. “We need to show Reed we support him as a family. They’d want to come.”

Callum finally nods. “Get them.”

I turn and run down the hall, knocking on Easton’s door and then the twins’. “Wake up, you guys!” I yell. “Wake up.”

The doorbell rings again. I race back, thinking for some reason that it’s Reed and he’s going to tell me this is all a tasteless joke. A stupid surprise. An early April Fool’s Day gag.

Callum reaches the door first, flinging it open in a fast blur. He marches forward, only to freeze a second later. He stops so abruptly that I slam into his suddenly stiff back.

“Oh sweet Jesus,” he breathes.

I have no idea why he stopped. I can’t see past his broad shoulders.

While Callum stands there like statue, I peer around his large frame and blink in alarm.

There’s a man standing at the bottom of the limestone steps. Oily blond hair hangs down to his shoulders. A full beard devours almost his entire face. His khakis and polo shirt seem to hang off his lean body, as if they’re two sizes too big.

He looks oddly familiar, but I’m pretty sure I’ve never seen him before in my life.

I meet his eyes. They’re light blue, framed by dark blond eyelashes.