Impatiently, I wait for the two uniforms to step out and then I dive inside. My brothers jump into the car as the doors are closing.

“She’s okay, man,” East reassures me, slightly out of breath.

“Really?” I stare at him. “It’s ten thirty. There are a dozen police cars out front. Ella called in a panic, saying she needed all of us here.”

“She called, though,” he points out.

The world’s fucked up when East is the calm one, while my heart is beating so hard it feels like it’ll leap out of my chest. I shove a hand through my hair and glare at the lights, willing the elevator to move faster.

“What do you think is going on?” Sawyer asks in a subdued voice.

“Probably Dinah,” his twin guesses.

I slam my fist against the doors. That’s my fear, too.

“You do that again and we might be stuck in here,” East warns.

“Right. Then I guess I’ll have to punch you in the face.”

“Then Ella’ll get mad at you. She loves my pretty face.” He pats the side of his cheek.

The twins muffle nervous laughs. I ball my hands into fists and think about punching all three of them. Fortunately for them, the elevator grinds to a halt, and I bolt out.

There are two police officers in the short hallway leading to the double-door entrance of the penthouse. The tall, thin one places a hand on the door, while the female’s hand moves to the top of her gun.

“Where are you going?” one of them demands.

“We live here,” I lie.

The two officers look at each other. Behind me, I can feel all three of my brothers tense up. I don’t care if I punch these two cops out. I’m already going to prison. I charge forward, but just as I close the distance, a familiar face appears in the door.

Detective Schmidt takes in the scene with one sweeping glance. Then she pushes the door open. “It’s fine. They can come in.”

I’m not about to question my sudden good fortune. I hurry inside, past the huge portraits of Dinah and into the living room, calling my girl’s name. “Ella!”

I finally spot her, huddled next to Dinah of all people, on a sofa facing the terrace doors.

I rush over and drag her away from the couch. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she assures me. “Where’s Callum?”

Why is she so hung up on my dad? I run my hands up and down her arms while I look her over. There doesn’t appear to be anything wrong with her. She’s pale and cold. Her hair is tangled and crazy, but she doesn’t seem to be hurt.

I clutch her to my chest, pushing her face flat against my hammering heart. “You sure you’re okay, baby?”

“I’m okay.” She hugs me back. Over her head, I stare at Dinah, whose normally immaculate face is tear-stained. Her eyes are red and her hair is messy, too.

“What the hell,” Easton says, sounding as confused as I feel. “Did you—did one of you shoot Steve?”

I swing around and realize I’d run past Steve. He’s slumped against the base of the fireplace, his back pressed against the stones.

He’s in handcuffs.

Ella shudders.

“What the hell is going on?” Dad booms.

The grief lines on Dinah’s face smooth out, a calculated gleam entering her eyes. She leans against the low-backed sofa and slides an arm across the top. “Steve attempted to silence Ella when she discovered that he was the one who killed Brooke. I saved her. You can thank me later.”

I hear a couple of curses as I stare at Ella. “Is this true?”

She gulps and then nods slowly. “All of it.”

There are other important things that Dinah just said, but the only one that sticks out is that Steve tried to kill Ella. That’s almost too much for my tired brain to take in.

“Are you hurt?” I repeat, scanning her body again for signs of injury.

“I’m fine. I swear.” She squeezes my arm. “Are you? Are you going to be okay?”

Because my mind is spinning, I just nod like an idiot, but the urgency in her voice suddenly registers. The new pieces of information tumble around and over and on top of each other until one by one, they fall into place.

Dinah’s tears.

Ella’s frantic request that I come—that we all come.

Steve trying to kill Ella.

It finally hits me. “Steve tried to pin Brooke’s murder on me?”

At Ella’s tiny grimace, I become so angry, I’m nearly blinded. I find myself halfway toward the fireplace before I realize I’ve even moved.

Dimly, I hear my name being called, but all my attention is focused on the man who helped me learn to ride my first bike, who threw footballs with me and my brothers. Hell, he gave me my first condom.

A medic kneels next to him, checking Steve’s blood pressure while Detective Cousins stands to one side.

Ella appears beside me, placing a warning hand on my arm. “Don’t,” she whispers.

Somehow I find the strength not to lunge at Steve. All I want to do is beat the ever-loving piss out of my godfather, but I close my eyes and find an ounce of self-restraint in the bottom of my churning gut.

“Why?” I spit out in Steve’s direction. “Why did you do it?”

My brothers form a wall behind me. Dad comes to stand on my other side. Steve’s eyes skip from Seb to Sawyer, linger on Easton, land on me, and then fix on my father.

“It was an accident,” Steve croaks.

“What was an accident?” Dad asks, his voice hollowed by pain. “You trying to kill your own daughter? Or trying to pin a murder charge on my son? How long have you been back? Were you screwing Brooke, too?”

Steve shakes his head. “It’s not like that, man. She was a disease, though, turning you and Reed against each other.”

Dad’s arm lashes out, and a lamp crashes into the stone not far from Steve’s head. We all flinch. “We were never against each other. A woman would’ve never come between us.”

“Brooke would’ve. Dinah, too.” He sneers at the blonde sitting ten feet away. “All these women we’ve been with, Callum—they’re out to destroy us. Hell, including your wife.”

Ella makes a small, distressed sound. Dad and I both look at her, but she quickly averts her eyes.

“What’s wrong?” I ask roughly.