Chapter 15 Moving Forward
Violet
They don’t apologize.
That’s the first thing I notice.
Calder’s boss—Captain Morales, according to the badge clipped to his belt—stands across from me with a file tucked under his arm and a look that says damage control, not regret.
“Ms. Pierce,” he says, voice even, professional. “You’re being released.”
I don’t relax.
I’ve learned better.
“This investigation is ongoing,” he continues, “but Detective Calder has been instructed to cease direct contact with you. Any further communication will go through your legal counsel.”
Calder stands a few feet behind him, arms crossed, jaw tight.
I don’t look at him.
“Do you understand?” Morales asks.
“Yes,” I say.
Rowan is beside me—silent, immovable. I don’t look at him either, but I feel the shift when Morales’s eyes flick to him, measuring.
“There is one more thing,” Morales adds. “We’ll need your phone.”
I don’t hesitate.
I reach into my bag and pull it out, holding it loosely in my hand. I glance once at Rowan—not asking, just confirming.
He nods.
I hand the phone over.
Morales accepts it, surprised. “You’re cooperating fully?”
“Yes,” I say. “I have nothing to hide.”
Calder scoffs quietly.
Morales ignores him. “Your carrier records will be subpoenaed. This will help establish your timeline.”
“Good,” I reply.
That seems to throw him off more than resistance would have.
“Alright,” Morales says after a beat. “Let’s get you out of here.”
He gestures toward the door and walks with us, positioning himself between me and Calder like a physical barrier. Cameras follow us. Conversations stall. I can feel eyes on my back.
The lobby doors are in sight when Calder finally snaps.
“Don’t leave town,” he says loudly.
Too loudly.
Every head turns.
“I will get to the bottom of this,” he adds, staring directly at me. “You can count on that.”
Morales stops cold.
“Detective,” he says sharply. “That’s enough.”
Calder doesn’t look away.
My stomach tightens, but I lift my chin anyway.
Morales exhales through his nose. “Ms. Pierce is released. That includes theatrics.”
He opens the doors himself.
Cold night air hits my face like a shock.
Outside, Camille moves immediately.
She steps in front of me without asking, one hand lifting to my shoulder, firm and grounding. “You’re coming with me.”
I blink. “Camille—”
“No,” she says. “You’re not going home alone. You’re staying with me.”
Theo nods from behind her. “I’ll drive.”
I glance back at Rowan.
He’s already stepped away—just enough to give space. His face is unreadable, but his eyes are sharp, tracking everything. Camille. Theo. Me.
“Is that okay?” Camille asks him, not deferential—direct.
Rowan considers it for a fraction of a second.
Then, “Yes.”
It’s not reluctant.
It’s calculated.
He turns his attention to Camille. “If anything changes, you call me.”
“I will,” she says without hesitation.
Rowan looks at me once more. “Devin will handle communication. Get some rest.”
No comfort.
No softness.
Just instruction.
I nod.
Theo opens the car door. Camille guides me inside, her hand still firm on my arm like she’s afraid I’ll disappear if she lets go.
As we pull away, I watch the station recede in the side mirror.
Calder is still standing there.
Watching.
The station lights blur behind us, swallowed by traffic and distance, but the weight of the place doesn’t lift. It clings to me, settling in my chest like something solid and unwelcome.
I don’t feel safe.
Not really.
But I don’t have a choice.
There’s no space to grieve. No pause. No room to sit with the fact that my brother is dead. Everything is still moving—investigations, paperwork, assumptions—and I’m being carried along with it whether I’m ready or not.
Camille slides closer in the backseat, shoulder brushing mine. She doesn’t ask questions. Doesn’t push. She just stays there, present in the way only someone who knows you well enough can be.
Theo drives in silence, eyes fixed on the road.
The quiet stretches.
It presses.
“Am I really a suspect?” I ask finally.
The words come out flat, like I’m asking about the weather.
Camille doesn’t answer right away.
“They’ll try to make you one,” she says at last.
The truth hits harder than I expect. Harder than if she’d lied.
My throat tightens. “But I didn’t—”
“I know,” she interrupts. “I know you didn’t.”
“That doesn’t seem to matter.”
“No,” she agrees quietly. “It doesn’t. Not to men like him.”
She exhales sharply, anger flashing across her face. “If I had five minutes alone with Calder, I’d knock that smug look right off his face.”
I let out a weak breath that almost sounds like a laugh. Almost.
“He doesn’t get to do this,” Camille continues, voice rising. “He doesn’t get to look at you like that, like you’re something he needs to crack. I swear, if he pushes this—”
“Camille,” I say.
She stops, glancing at me. “What?”
“It’s not helping.”
Her expression falters.
“I know you’re trying,” I add. “But it just makes it worse.”
She swallows, nodding once. “Okay. Okay. I’m sorry.”
The car hums quietly again.
I stare out the window, city lights streaking past, my reflection faint and unfamiliar in the glass. I don’t look like myself. I don’t feel like myself.
“They asked me why I was dressed like that,” I say suddenly. “Like it meant something.”
Camille’s jaw tightens. “That’s bullshit.”
“I know.” My hands twist together. “But they keep looking for something that isn’t there.”
Theo speaks for the first time. “Rowan won’t let them steamroll you.”
I don’t respond.
Because I don’t know what that protection costs yet.
And because as much as I want to believe it—
Right now, all I can think about is how easily they decided I might be capable of this.
How quickly everything I’ve held together could be taken apart.
Theo pulls into Camille’s driveway and cuts the engine. The house sits dark and quiet, porch light glowing soft and steady like it’s been waiting for us.
He gets out first, jogging around to open the back door before I can reach for the handle.
“Careful,” he says automatically, offering a hand.
I take it, mostly because my legs still feel like they belong to someone else.
Camille climbs out beside me, already scanning the street like she expects Calder to be lurking in the shadows.
Theo clears his throat. “Maybe you should take tomorrow off.”
I stop mid-step.
Slowly, I turn and look at him. One eyebrow lifts on its own. “Are you high?”
He blinks. “What?”
“You honestly think Rowan Ashcroft would accept that?” I ask flatly. “A day off?”
Theo winces. “Right. Yeah. That was—” He shakes his head once. “That was stupid.”
He nods, conceding immediately. “Okay. Forget I said that.”
Camille folds her arms. “I’ll make sure she eats. And sleeps. Or at least pretends to.”
Theo nods again, relieved. “Good. I’ll… uh.” He gestures vaguely. “I’ll see you in a few hours.”
He hesitates then.
Just for a second.
His gaze flicks to Camille—not quick, not casual. Intent. Loaded.
She meets it without moving, something unspoken passing between them that has nothing to do with me.
Theo swallows. “Bye.”
“Bye,” Camille says.
He lingers another half-second, then turns and heads back to the car.
I watch him go.
I watch the way Camille exhales once the taillights disappear down the street.
And I understand.
Not because they say anything. Not because they touch.
Because I know what it looks like when two people are careful with something fragile.
They’re in love.