Chapter 14 Under Protection
Rowan
I step forward then, placing myself between Camille and Calder—not to shield her rage, but to end this.
“You are done interrogating her,” I say calmly.
Calder’s jaw tightens. “You don’t get to make that call.”
“I do,” I reply. “She invoked counsel.”
His eyes flick to Devin, who stands at my side without a word, presence alone a threat.
“And because,” I continue, voice low and precise, “if you proceed without cause, I will personally ensure your department spends the next year buried under motions, complaints, and internal reviews.”
Calder’s nostrils flare.
“She’s not leaving,” he says flatly.
I take one slow step closer.
“You’re treating my top employee like a criminal without evidence,” I say quietly. “That’s a mistake.”
His eyes harden. “You don’t own her.”
I smile.
Cold. Controlled.
“That,” I say, “is where you’re wrong.”
The air shifts.
“You will take us to her,” I continue, voice sharp now. “Immediately.”
Calder hesitates—just long enough to calculate the damage.
Then he turns and motions sharply to an officer. “This way.”
He leads Devin and me down the hall, past closed doors and muted voices, until he stops in front of one marked INTERVIEW B. He opens it with visible irritation.
She’s inside.
Violet.
She’s still wearing the dress.
Black. Tight. Unapologetic in a room that doesn’t deserve her.
Her hair is down now, no longer contained—puffy, uneven, like she dragged her fingers through it one too many times. I feel a visceral urge to do the same. To see if it’s as soft as it looks.
Her eyes are red. Blotchy. Her face flushed from crying.
And that’s when I notice something that shouldn’t matter—but does.
She isn’t wearing makeup.
No mascara. No liner. Nothing to hide behind.
Just her.
Natural. Unfiltered.
She doesn’t curate herself the way Avery does. Or even Camille. Violet doesn’t care about image. She never has. She prides herself on what she produces, not what she can manipulate.
That tells me more than any report ever could.
When she looks up and sees me—sees Devin behind me—her composure collapses.
She breaks.
Her breath stutters and she starts crying again, words tumbling out so fast I can’t make them out. She stands halfway, hands shaking, desperate and furious and devastated all at once.
Before Calder can react, Camille pushes into the room.
“Violet—”
Calder lunges after her. “You can’t—”
Theo moves faster.
He grabs Calder by the arm, grip firm, voice low and lethal. “You touch her and that’ll be the one mistake that costs you your badge.”
The room freezes.
Calder yanks his arm back, eyes blazing. “No one should be in this room except the lawyer.”
Violet’s voice cuts through the tension—raw, shaking, but unbroken.
“They’re representing me.”
Calder turns on her. “That’s not—”
“They’re from the same firm,” she says, lifting her chin. “You can’t argue that.”
Devin smirks, folding his arms. “They’re my students,” he adds easily. “I’m teaching them.”
Calder growls under his breath, fury vibrating under his skin—but he knows he’s boxed in.
He steps back. “Fine.”
Then he leaves the room, slamming the door behind him.
I don’t believe for a second he’s gone far.
He’s listening.
Waiting.
I step closer to Violet, lowering my voice. "Tell me everything."
She looks at me like she’s been holding her breath for hours and finally doesn’t have to anymore.
“He—he kept pushing,” she says, words coming fast, uneven. “About where my brother was. About where I was. He kept asking the same questions over and over like if he repeated them enough, I’d slip.”
Her hands twist together in her lap.
“I told him everything,” she continues. “I didn’t hide anything. I told him I hadn’t heard from my brother in over a month. Not a call. Not a text. Nothing. And now he’s dead and they’re acting like—like I did something.”
Her voice cracks.
“I didn’t,” she says, sharper now. “I didn’t do anything. And I don’t know how I’m supposed to prove that when they’ve already decided I’m guilty.”
Camille steps closer, eyes bright with unshed tears, but Violet keeps going.
“I tried to leave,” she says. “I told him I couldn’t stay. That my mother needs me. That I have responsibilities. I can’t go to jail. I won’t.” Her breath stutters. “I can’t give up. I don’t get to.”
Devin nods slowly. “You did the right thing by talking,” he says. “We’ll pull your phone records from the carrier. That’ll establish the lack of contact.”
“I—I need my phone,” Violet says immediately. “For work. For—”
“She’ll turn it over,” Devin says calmly. “It helps your case.”
Violet shakes her head. “I can’t just—”
“I’ll buy you a new one,” I cut in.
She turns toward me, startled. “Rowan—”
“Tonight,” I continue. “Same number. Same access. You won’t lose anything.”
She opens her mouth to argue again, but Devin keeps going.
“We’ll also need badge logs,” he says. “Entry times. Exit times. Security footage. Everything that establishes her location.”
I glance at Camille. “Can you handle that?”
Camille hesitates. Just briefly. “I can try,” she says. “But I’d probably call—”
“Violet,” she finishes.
A collective sigh moves through the room.
Violet presses her lips together. “The only other person with access is Kevin. Security.”
“Where is he?” I ask.
“Sick,” she replies. “Has been all week.”
I look at Theo.
He nods once. “Got it.”
He’s already pulling out his phone as he steps toward the door. “I’ll handle it.”
The door shuts softly behind him.
Devin leans forward again. “Tell me exactly what you told the detective.”
Violet swallows. “Everything. I answered every question. Even the ones that didn’t make sense.”
“Which ones?” Devin asks.
Her cheeks flush faintly. “He asked where I went dressed like this. How often I attend dinners with my boss. What kind of relationship we have.”
That doesn’t sit right.
I glance toward the mirror on the wall—the one-way glass.
I know he’s back there.
Listening.
Watching.
I turn back to Violet. “That ends now.”
She blinks. “What?”
“From this point forward,” I say evenly, “if Detective Calder calls you, texts you, shows up at your door, or breathes in your direction—you do not respond.”
Her brow furrows. “But he said—”
“He goes through Devin,” I continue. “Or he goes through me.”
Her confusion deepens. “Why?”
I hold her gaze, unwavering.
“Because you don’t answer to him,” I say. “And because he doesn’t get access to you without oversight.”
The room is quiet.
Violet nods slowly, like she’s still processing what that means.
Devin closes the file. “Good. That’s exactly what we’ll do.”
Behind the glass, I imagine Calder bristling.
Let him.
Because from this moment on, this investigation does not move unless I allow it to.
And Violet Pierce—
Grieving. Exhausted. Still standing—
Is no longer alone in a room designed to break her.
She’s under my protection now.
Whether she understands that yet or not.