Chapter 39 No Softness
Violet
Camille is staring.
Not subtly. Not politely. Full-on, jaw-slack, eyes darting between the two men standing in front of our desks like they materialized out of thin air.
They’re both dressed in dark suits. No badges. No smiles. One of them has his hands folded in front of him like a statue. The other scans the floor, the ceiling, the exits—everything except us.
I don’t like this.
Not one bit.
It’s exactly 6:30 p.m. on the dot.
Camille slowly swivels her chair toward me. “Violet,” she says carefully, “tell me you’re seeing this too.”
“I’m seeing it,” I murmur.
Before either of us can say anything else, footsteps echo from Rowan’s office.
Two sets.
Theo steps out first, loosening his tie like he’s already had a long day. Rowan follows immediately after—jacket on, expression unreadable, posture rigid like he’s already made a decision and dared the world to argue.
That alone is strange.
They don’t usually leave together.
Camille doesn’t bother with pleasantries. She pushes back from her desk and stands. “Okay. No. What the hell is going on?”
Rowan stops in front of us, gaze flicking briefly to the two men behind him before settling on Camille. “I’m taking precautions.”
Camille crosses her arms. “Against what?”
“The councilwoman,” Rowan says smoothly. “She made a public threat to everyone in this building. Today, she attempted to escalate that threat further.”
“That’s—” Camille starts, then stops.
Theo nods beside Rowan. “It’s legit, Cam. She’s been stirring things up all afternoon.”
Camille exhales through her nose, clearly trying not to explode. “And this?” She gestures vaguely at the bodyguards. “This is… what? A dramatic flourish?”
“This,” Rowan says calmly, “is me ensuring that my best employees get home alive.”
That makes Camille pause.
Her shoulders drop just a fraction.
I don’t feel better.
Rowan’s eyes shift to me then, sharp but not unkind. “I’m aware you’ve moved in together,” he continues, tone clipped and professional. “For the next few weeks, you’ll be driven to and from work. A security system has already been installed at the residence.”
My stomach drops.
“You—what?” Camille snaps, spinning toward Theo. “You knew about this?”
Theo starts sweating immediately. “I—listen, it was a last-minute thing—”
Camille glares daggers at him.
Rowan steps in smoothly. “This isn’t about overreach. The councilwoman has influence in low and high places. There was also a burglary in your neighborhood last week.”
I stiffen.
“That’s not—” I start.
“I don’t want her getting ideas,” Rowan finishes, eyes steady on mine. “This is temporary. Preventative.”
Camille looks between the three of us, then sighs. “I hate this.”
“So do I,” I say quietly.
Rowan inclines his head, like he expected that. “I understand.”
Do you?
They start walking, and we follow—past desks, past curious glances, toward the front entrance. I can feel eyes on us. Whispers already forming.
Just before we reach the doors, my phone vibrates in my hand.
Blocked number.
My chest tightens.
I stop.
Everyone stops.
Camille turns first. “Vi?”
“I—” I swallow. “It’s nothing. Probably spam.”
Rowan’s gaze sharpens. “Answer it.”
I don’t know why I do.
I lift the phone to my ear. “Hello?”
Silence.
Then—
“You can run,” a voice says. Low. Amused. Wrong. “But we’ll find you.”
My blood turns to ice.
“We know something you don’t,” the voice continues. “You’re already dead. It just hasn’t caught up yet.”
My mouth opens. No sound comes out.
“You’ll see,” the voice finishes softly. “Soon enough, it won’t matter.”
The line goes dead.
For a second, I just stand there, staring at the phone.
Then Camille moves.
She yanks it out of my hand so fast I barely register it. “Nope. Absolutely not.” She turns and shoves it straight into Rowan’s chest. “New phone. New number. Tonight. This gets traced if possible—threats are illegal.”
Rowan doesn’t argue.
He looks at the phone. Then at me.
And something in his expression changes.
Not anger.
Not control.
Helplessness.
“Is that true?” he asks quietly. “Did someone just threaten you?”
My throat tightens.
“Yes,” I say. “They said I could run. That they’d find me anyway.”
Camille swears under her breath.
Theo’s jaw clenches. “Jesus Christ.”
Rowan doesn’t raise his voice. Doesn’t move suddenly.
He just turns and speaks into his earpiece. “I need backup. Now. Trace the number if possible. Lock this down.”
Then his attention snaps back to me.
“You’re not going anywhere alone,” he says, voice ironed flat. “Not tonight. Not tomorrow.”
“I didn’t ask for this,” I whisper.
“I know,” he replies.
And for the first time since all of this started, I believe him.
But belief doesn’t make the fear go away.
As the doors open and the night air rushes in, I realize something chilling—
Whatever is happening now?
It’s no longer just about my brother.
It’s about me.
The black SUV waits at the curb like it’s been there all along.
One bodyguard opens the door. The other scans the sidewalk again, eyes sharp. Camille climbs in first, still muttering under her breath, and I follow—then stop halfway, one foot on the pavement, one hand gripping the doorframe.
I turn back.
Rowan is still standing there, phone in hand, speaking quietly to someone I can’t hear. Theo hovers a step behind him, tense, alert, very much not joking anymore.
“Rowan,” I say.
He looks up immediately.
“Is this…” I hesitate, searching for the right word. “Is this normal for you?”
The question hangs between us.
For a second, he doesn’t answer.
Then he asks, “Why would you ask that?”
I swallow. “Because you’re handling this like it is.”
My voice stays steady, but my hands aren’t. “You didn’t panic. You didn’t hesitate. You already knew what to do.”
Rowan’s jaw tightens—not defensively. Thoughtfully.
He glances sideways at Theo, just once.
Then he steps closer.
Not close enough to crowd me. Close enough to be deliberate.
He reaches out—not touching me yet—and gestures gently. “Get in the car.”
I do.
He places one hand on the doorframe and the other at my elbow, guiding me inside like it’s second nature. Like he’s done this before. Like he’s done this too many times.
Once I’m seated, he leans down so we’re eye level.
“This isn’t an everyday occurrence,” he says quietly. “But it’s not new to me.”
My brows knit. “What does that mean?”
It means more than he’s saying.
“I’ve dealt with situations like this before,” he continues. “In my life. Outside of work.”
Used to it.
The word settles uncomfortably in my chest.
He straightens, then pauses, hand still resting on the edge of the door. “A new phone will be delivered to the house shortly. New number. Encrypted.”
I nod slowly.
“And something else,” he adds.
I look up. “What something else?”
For the first time, his expression shifts—just a fraction.
“You’ll see,” he says.
Then he steps back.
No reassurance. No promises. No softness.
Just certainty.