Chapter Twenty-Five

Wyatt

M y eyes followed Aiden as he returned inside after his fourth evening cigarette. In all the years I’d known him, he’d never been as distraught as he was now. He told us that Odette went to see her father but wouldn’t say why.

I trusted her, and that meant trusting whatever reason she felt the need to lie. She was unwaveringly good; if she thought keeping this from us was necessary, I had no choice but to let her make that decision.

Even so, I was still unnerved that she was alone with that man. He was cruel to her—not like any father I’d ever seen. He treated her like a shiny object, a trophy for him to display every few months before tossing her aside.

Aiden kept talking about his gut feeling, expressing his regret about letting her leave alone. He was unglued, completely convinced that something bad would come from her visit.

In reality, he just couldn’t handle the unknown. As worried as we were, I knew she’d walk through the doors in a couple hours with an explanation. We could check the time, our phones, and stress all we wanted—but all we could do was wait.

Lord knew I was a patient man. I’d waited my whole life for her; a few hours wouldn’t kill me. This thought made me smile as I continued to read through my students’ final essays.

My phone began ringing, and my friend’s eyes shot to me with anticipation. Seeing Vincent’s name on the caller ID, I simply shook my head at them, indicating that it wasn’t her before I answered.

“Hey,” I lazily greeted, wondering what he wanted at this hour.

“Wyatt, am I on speaker?” He asked in a hushed tone.

My brows knitted. “No? Do you want to be?” I chuckled.

“No,” he answered immediately. I could hear white noise in the background and knew he was driving. “Look, I don’t know how to say this, and I don’t want to tell you over the phone. I’ve got Odette, and I’m bringing her home—”

Confusion hit me like a truck. “What? Why do you—”

“Wyatt, I need you to hide the car keys from Dominic,” he interrupted.

My eyes wandered across the living room; the seriousness in his tone and laconic words sent shivers down my spine. I had a dozen questions, but I knew if Charles had made her cry, Dominic would be out the door the second he saw her blotchy eyes.

“Okay...” I took a nervous breath. “Put her on the phone.”

“She’s been asleep before I even pulled out of the driveway. We’ll be there in an hour or so... just please hide the keys,” Vincent repeated.

“What’s going on?” Niko questioned, barely sparing a glance up from his work.

“I don’t know,” I dismissed with a shake of my head. “Vincent, you gotta give me something, man,” I pushed.

“I don’t want her to wake up, and I don’t want her to hear what happened,” he whispered. “She’s... fine, but shit got really ugly tonight—”

“What the fuck does that mean?” I scoffed, frustrated that he wouldn’t tell me exactly why he had our girl, why he wouldn’t wake her to speak to me, and why she couldn’t hear him telling me what happened if she was there when the mentioned events happened.

“Have a little fuckin’ faith, and trust me,” he answered, equally as annoyed. “I had to pull a gun on ten guys tonight, so don’t—” There was rustling before he hung up.

I stared at my phone for a few seconds, my mind blank. My anxiety flared at his last sentence, and the worst-case scenarios danced in my mind.

“Wyatt?” Aiden questioned, trying to read me. He’d stopped pacing, and his look of concern deepened. My body was stiff and uneased, and they could see my distress.

“Vincent has her. I don’t know why,” I shared the incredibly limited information I was given.

Niko slowly closed his laptop, and Dominic shifted on the sofa, looking ready to stand and bolt out the door. “I’m confused,” Niko humorlessly chuckled. “What did he say?”

We all felt the same turmoil that thickened the room. Unfortunately for all of us, I had no information that would ease my friends’ minds. I replayed our short conversation over in my mind, but Vincent had left me in the dark. “She’s asleep, and he didn’t want her to wake up and hear whatever he wanted to say to me. He said she’s fine, but shit went down, and... he said he pulled a gun on a group of men?” I repeated, trying to make sense of the words as they left my mouth.

Aiden uncrossed his arms, a look of defeat in his sunken eyes. His jaw clenched as he shook his head. “I fucking knew it,” he spat, pulling the box of cigarettes out from his pocket again. “I’m never wrong about these things, and my dumbass still let her go,” he all but seethed.

“What men?” Niko shrugged, his voice surprisingly soft and poised. “I can’t imagine Charles having company on a Friday evening a week before his euthanasia,” he puzzled. “But that would explain Vincent being there,” he pieced together. His leg started bouncing as he jumped to conclusions. “If those bastard business partners were there and did anything to her, I swear to God—”

“Pedophiles,” Aiden snapped. “They’re pedophiles who molested her, and if they got her alone like they did last time, they’d—”

“Aiden,” I interrupted. I didn’t want to hear that, let alone think it. “Let’s not jump to conclusions. I’m worried too, but they’ll be here in an hour,” I raised my eyebrows. Someone had to be the voice of reason.

Aiden disregarded my words as he twirled a cigarette between his fingers. “What was that fuckers name?” He questioned into the open. “L something, something French. Lestat,” he spat the name. “If that son of a bitch came within ten feet of her, I’ll lose it.”

Dominic looked up from the floor, snapping out of his own concerned thoughts. “He’s still missing. Took the money and ran. I wouldn’t worry about him,” he spoke lowly.

Niko’s gaze shifted to Dominic before his eyes darted away quickly, and he took a deep breath. “Wyatt’s right,” he said quickly. “Whatever happened, Vincent was there and obviously didn’t let anything happen if he was waving a gun around. She’s safe and on her way home; let’s focus on that, sí?” He joined my efforts.

For the next hour, we’d all pretend our stomachs weren’t in knots. Something was wrong. I heard it in Vincent’s wavering voice, even he was shaken. Each of us was confused, concerned, and hoping that Odette was okay.

It was obvious how worried we all were; each of us had tells. Aiden was smoking like a chimney, and his always-on-track train of thought was derailing. Dominic was eerily quiet, the kind of quiet he got before he kicked someone’s ass. Niko was absentmindedly speaking multiple languages, too lost in his own head to comprehend his own words. And I was desperately trying to control everyone else’s emotions, pissed off that I had no control over the current situation.

Aiden slammed the front door as he left to smoke again. Dominic’s stare stayed locked on the floor, and I was unable to read him. Niko stood to leave the room, and I followed behind him.

When we were upstairs in the hall, I caught his attention. “Vincent asked me to hide the car keys from Dominic,” I whispered.

Niko humorlessly chuckled. “I was just about to grab Aiden’s keys off his nightstand for that very reason,” he admitted. “If any of Charles’ business partners said anything to her or tried to fuck with her, you know Dom will be out for blood. It doesn’t make me feel any better that Vincent asked you to hide our keys from him,” he ran his hand through his hair, clearly more stressed than he was showing downstairs.

“Vincent’s voice, Niko...” I didn’t know how to finish my explanation. Vincent was a happy-go-lucky man, always joking and easygoing. He sounded like an entirely different man on the phone. “I’ll grab Dominic’s and my own keys and put them in my bathroom drawer,” I changed the subject, not wanting to further worry him.

“I’ll put mine and Aiden’s there too,” he agreed with a nod.

I began to walk away when I felt his hand on my shoulder. “Wyatt.” His eyes were slightly rounded, and there was anxiety in them. For a moment, it reminded me of his 13-year-old self. He opened his mouth and closed it quickly before he said what he wanted to: “Nothing.”

That was obviously bullshit. He was biting his tongue when he clearly had something he wanted to tell me. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah,” he answered immediately. “Keys,” he reminded before turning and quickly walking into Aiden’s room.

I wasn’t convinced but decided to brush it off. He was frazzled and had every right to be.

Finally, alone, I took a moment to collect myself. I closed my eyes and took deep breaths.

She’s okay.

She’s safe with Vincent.

She’s on her way home.

Less than an hour.

We all darted out the front door the moment we heard gravel crunching. Aiden had been on the porch for the entire hour, no doubt puffing smoke from his lungs like air.

We watched the headlights of Odette’s car as it neared, easing my nerves for the first time in an hour. The four of us eagerly left the porch, ready to comfort her however she needed. Before the car was even entirely to a stop, Vincent quickly exited, putting his hands up while signaling us to stop. “Wait,” he cautioned.

“Vincent, get out of the way,” Dominic sent him a stern look, still trying to walk around him.

“Give me 30 seconds, then you can wake her up,” he rushed. Earlier, he said there was something she didn’t know, something he didn’t want her to hear.

I looked around him, trying to see her in the passenger seat. The headlights were blinding, and I couldn’t see past them.

We stood before him, impatiently waiting for him to explain, crossed arms and blank scowls.

Vincent’s eyes met each of us as he gently shook his head. “Just try not to freak out because what I’m going to tell you is disgustingly upsetting—”

“25... 24... 23...” Aiden counted, urging him to cut to the fucking chase.

“We were all at the Whitlock house having a meeting with Charles. He was already pissed off because business isn’t going as planned,” he prefaced. “Odette comes in. Charles wasn’t expecting her, but he said he’d be back in a few minutes, and the two of them went to his office.” He took a breath. “His office door is basically soundproof, but we heard... banging like he punched his desk or a piece of furniture fell,” he cringed while shaking his head. “Obviously, a couple of Charles’ staff and I went to knock and make sure everything was okay. Then we heard her screaming—”

“Screaming?” I repeated, my stomach twisting as I moved to walk past him. I needed to see her.

Vincent caught me by the arm. “He beat the shit out of her,” he deadpanned. “We tried to kick the fucking door open, but the fucker wouldn’t budge—”

“Her father?” Niko tried to clarify in disbelief. His voice was gut-wrenchingly sad as he said the two words.

“Twenty minutes later, he opened the door and walked out. He dropped some paperwork on the floor, and when he saw his partners, he—I don’t want to repeat it, but he told them they could have her—”

“Repeat it,” Aiden ordered, his tone wavering on lethal.

Vincent clenched his jaw while averting his eyes. “There’s a whore in my office if you men would like to take turns,” he didn’t look at any of us as he said the sickening words. “She doesn’t know he said that... she was unconscious on the floor when I got to her,” he added under his breath.

Every muscle in my body was locked stiff. The range of emotions was vast, and they all hit at once. All I could do was stare at him in disbelief. I was a grown man, and I was scared to open that passenger door to even see what he did to her. Charles was easily three times her size. I couldn’t imagine someone of his size throwing punches at a woman, especially someone as delicate as Odette.

There was nothing she could have done that would provoke a violent response from a man of his... class.

“If Anthony and I weren’t there—”

“Thank you,” I breathed out, insanely grateful that Vincent just happened to be there and carry a handgun.

The sound of the car door opening caught my attention. It had only just cracked and was slowly beginning to open.

For the second time today, I ran. I ran until I was standing in front of the open door. I heard the others behind me, but the world went quiet when my eyes locked on Odette.

My first and only thought upon seeing her was: give Dominic the keys.

She was obviously discombobulated as her shaken hand tried to unbuckle the belt; the other had a death grip on a paper folder. Her delicate features were covered in bruises and scrapes. A purple bruise formed under her left eye; it’d be blackened by morning. Her cheeks were slightly red and swollen, with small scrapes on her cheekbones. There was dried blood on her cheeks and the corner of her mouth.

Her hair was disheveled like it’d been yanked—I was sure it had. Vincent’s suit jacket was draped backward over her shoulders, covering her front. I assumed she got cold.

It was a horror show I couldn’t look away from. It physically pained me to see her look so broken. Every time I noticed another bruise, my gut gnarled. Even so, I found myself slowly reaching over and pressing down on the buckle that her hand was too weak to press.

That was when she noticed us, finally turning so we could see her entire face. She was already crying, but more tears flowed as she stared at us, probably burning the cuts on her cheeks.

Needing to touch and hold her , I went to grab the folder from her and move it out of the way so I could remove the coat that covered her.

The death grip she had didn’t lessen, and I knew that whatever was in the folder was the reason she went tonight. She held onto it like a lifeline, scared to let it out of her grasp. She was in shock.

I’d always been good with words; I always knew what to say and (more importantly) how to say it. Standing before the woman I loved, I had absolutely no words that I could comfort her with. I could tell her how sorry I was, how much it pained me to see her like this, or how murderous I felt against Charles. None of that would change what happened.

“Odette,” I said just above a whisper, placing my hand over her clenched fist.

Her grip loosened at the calmness of my tone (I was putting on a convincing act because I was anything but calm), and I took it, handing it to whoever grabbed it behind me. I slowly pulled down the jacket, revealing her open blouse and purple bruises covering her stomach. The buttons were either ripped off or hanging by a thread, exposing her bra and entire torso.

What did he do to her? My blood boiled when I saw the red imprint of the bottom of a shoe just below her ribs. My brows knitted in hatred for Charles Whitlock.

I felt nauseous that he’d torn her clothes off—intentionally or not. It was, by definition, sexual assault. As if he hadn’t exposed her to enough of that...

Niko took a breath behind me, almost wincing himself. “My God.”

Her hands moved in an attempt to cover herself. She was ashamed when we heard her father patronize her; I knew she was embarrassed for us to see what he did to her. If we felt sick just looking at her and hearing what’d happened, I couldn’t imagine how she felt.

The only person who should be embarrassed was her piece-of-shit father. He deserved to die, and I knew now that his cancer was karma in disguise.

Much too quickly for her trembling body, she all but leaped out of the car, clinging to my body. She would have fallen on her weak legs if I weren’t directly outside the door. I held her tight—cautious of any bruises she could’ve had. She sobbed into my chest, her hands fisted in my shirt.

My heart was broken for her. A father was supposed to be a man their daughters could trust. Fathers—men—didn’t do this. I didn’t know if she’d ever fully recover from what Charles did to her tonight. Therapy couldn’t undo the punches he threw. She’d never forget how tonight felt; I couldn’t save her from that.

As gently as possible, I lifted her into my arms, holding her under her knees and back as I began walking inside. “I’ve got you,” I promised in an attempt to pacify her weeps.

I locked eyes with my friends, seeing them all with shocked expressions. Niko’s eyes were red around the edges, emotion threatening to spill. Aiden looked horrified—rightfully so. This was worse than we’d imagined. So, so much fucking worse. Dominic’s fists were balled so tightly that the scars on his hands reopened, making blood trickle down his knuckles and onto the gravel.

Oh yeah, I was giving him the keys. There was no guard, no gate, no door that could contain him. His emotions were like a bullet; there was no going back once the trigger was pulled. Charles deserved to have the everliving life beat out of him by someone his own size—bigger, actually.

Odette’s grip didn’t loosen on me or my shirt as I carried her inside. Her tears could have been from pain, acceptance and realization, shock, or maybe relief that she was home. It didn’t matter why she cried; I’d let her soak my shirt for hours if that was what she needed.

I sat on the sofa with her in my arms. She curled into me, pulling her long legs to her chest and burying her face in my neck. The initial sobs had lessened, her cries turning into the occasional hiccup, sniffle, and exhausted breathing.

Niko sat at my side, silently examining her bruised knees, stomach, and whatever else Charles wounded. He’d blink quickly every few minutes, fighting any tears that wanted to escape.

“Vincent said someone named Anthony called the police and filed a report,” Aiden said as he and Dominic finally came inside. Jamie’s car pulled up a few minutes ago before leaving again. I was glad that Vincent called her to take him home.

“Wyatt, take her to the car; we’re going to the hospital,” he added. I was sure he had thought of a clear plan, but barking orders wouldn’t help.

Odette shook her head against my neck. “I’m not going to the hospital,” she croaked.

An inaudible, frustrated sigh escaped Aiden as he paced the living room. “Babydoll, you could have a concussion, head trauma, a broken bone, or internal bleeding with how your stomach looks—”

“Aiden...” Niko interrupted quietly. He shook his head once as if telling him to take it down a notch. She was stressed—we were all stressed enough without him trying to rationalize this. Everyone knew he meant well, but this was one of the rare occurrences where Aiden Anderson’s brain and mouth weren’t quite linking.

“Fine,” Aiden reluctantly let up, stopping in front of us where he crouched down. “Please let Dominic look,” he asked her in a much softer manner. “For my sanity...”

A few seconds passed as we waited for her response. Her breath on my neck stopped as she pulled away from me, sliding down my thigh until she sat next to me. It was unusual to see her slouched down like she was, arms wrapped around her middle protectively. Her usual posture was almost too perfect. Either her body hurt too severely, or she didn’t care enough to correct herself.

Taking the subtle invitation to examine her, Dominic took Aiden’s place. His murderous eyes softened as he took her in, quickly saddening. “What hurts the most?”

Odette was still as she stared at him. Her expression was void, trapped in her own thoughts. Finally registering his question, she lowered her eyes. “Um,” she paused. “I don’t know?” She spoke softly. Tightening her arms around herself, she looked back at him. “My arms,” she answered.

Covered by the long sleeves of her blouse, I took note of her arms shaking. She hadn’t moved them much either—not that she was moving much at all, but her arms were especially tense.

Before Dominic had to ask, she tried to roll her sleeve but winced at the touch. Instead, she slowly removed the blouse, shrugging it down her shoulders where Dominic helped her slide it off her arms, leaving her in a bra.

My mouth dropped open, but I quickly pulled myself together before she noticed. Her forearms were both bruised and swollen. It was clear she tried to block Charles’ punches. Her wrists and upper arms had purple marks in the shape of a hand where he’d grabbed her.

As I imagined her trying to put up a fight, my stomach tightened, and I began to feel sick.

Dominic held her hands in his as he inspected her arms. After making her wiggle her fingers and bend her elbow, he moved on to her ribs, then her stomach, knees, and finally her face. “Nothing looks broken,” he said. “Your bruises will get darker and more painful in the next few days,” he informed.

“Where’s the folder?” She suddenly asked, frantically looking around the area and each of us.

Niko pulled it out from behind his back, where he put it after sitting down. “I’ve got it,” he murmured, handing it to her.

A sigh of relief filled the space as she held it in her lap. She blinked quickly before pointing to the tab. “What does this say?” She asked.

Lifting my brows, I hesitantly answered, “Whitlock. Baby, can you see?” I asked, now worried about her black eye.

“I’m just blurry from the tears,” she assured with a nod.

“What’s in the folder?” Niko asked, keeping his tone gentle.

Her teeth grazed her bottom lip. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “I’ve been keeping something from you,” she rushed out. She held the folded tightly against herself like she had been in the car. “I know I should’ve told you, but I couldn’t. I was stupid and scared,” she started.

My eyebrows fell as I listened to her. Aiden had a sneaking suspicion that something had been on her mind lately, but we brushed it off as her father’s euthanasia. I didn’t know why we questioned him so often; he was rarely wrong.

She sniffled before she straightened her posture. “The night of the will reading, Charles pulled me aside and threatened me... by threatening you. He said some awful things, but mostly that I was naive to think any of you actually cared for me. It didn’t matter what I said. He wouldn’t listen,” she explained.

As if my hate for this man couldn’t deepen. While we’ve been building her confidence and relationship with her, he was feeding her the lie he’d convinced himself of. No matter, I knew how she felt, and she knew how we felt. His words hadn’t phased her, that I was sure of.

“He asked me to sign a restraining order against all of you, and I refused. He knew I’d refuse and came prepared with an ultimatum... or blackmail?” She shook her head. “He said I had until graduation to sign or he’d evict you—he bought the manor from the university. It’s been under his name since that night.”

I didn’t know which to consider first: the restraining order or the fact that Charles owned our house—the house we’d been saving up to buy, our home. “Odette, why didn’t you tell us?” I asked softly, placing a hand on her thigh.

She swallowed hard. “It gets worse,” she warned while shifting away from me. “He owns the manor and threatened your reputation because you slept with a student,” she continued. “Your career, credibility, your names,” she glanced at Aiden, “your life’s work.”

The folder had indents where her fingers were squeezing the sides. “I have no excuse for not telling you other than I’m selfish. I’m... I’m not delusional enough to think you’d stay with me after that. You’ve worked too hard to throw it away, and I know that. I kept trying to convince myself I had more time—”

“I would,” Niko interrupted.

Cut off and caught off guard, she turned to him with pressed brows. “Huh?”

“I would choose you,” he declared calmly.

Her brows stayed scrunched in confusion, probably hurting her bruises in the process. She softly shook her head at him in denial. “No, Niko, I wouldn’t let you,” she explained. “I’m not worth it. You love being a teacher more than anything in the world. I’m selfish, but not selfish enough to take that from you. Assuming you all don’t detest and hate me for lying, I would’ve signed. Even if I never got to see you again, it’s the right thing to do.”

“Not more than anything, Odette,” he softly smiled.

She turned towards him and shook her head. “What’s wrong with you?” she huffed. “Don’t tell me you love me! Be mad at me!” She widened her eyes as best she could. You should be furious. I need you to be mad at me,” she stressed.

A smile started forming as I watched her scold him for telling her he loved her. She’d brushed it off so easily that I wasn’t sure she even realized what she said.

“I’m not mad,” Niko shrugged. Obviously, you should have told us, but I can’t change that. Teaching is just a job, and this is just a house—two things that are very replaceable. You, however, are not. Whether you like it or not, I love you, and I’ll keep saying it,” he smirked as if talking about the weather.

Her mouth parted, but it wasn’t in surprise. She looked insulted. “Don’t tell me you love me when I probably look like a blob-fish. Take it back!” She demanded.

I was beyond intrigued as I watched the two bicker in such a serious moment. Even more amusing, she was more worried about what she looked like when he admitted it to her than anything else.

He rolled his eyes while putting his hands up in surrender. “Fine, I retract my love. I’ll say it again when you don’t look like the walking dead.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“What the fuck just happened?” Aiden mumbled under his breath. He knelt by Odette again. “Why did you go there tonight? How did this happen?” He redirected the topic back to the more pressing one.

Part of me was grateful for Niko’s declaration of love and commitment to her over his job and our house. I felt the same and knew that Aiden and Dominic would too. It would be hard to adjust, but having her by our side was all that mattered.

Tonight, including this conversation, was difficult and draining for her. Their short-lived bickering helped to lessen the tension.

“I had to at least try to get him to change his mind,” she explained. “I told him to put the manor back in the university’s name and void the restraining order, or I’d expose him after he died. I threatened to tell the media about his abuse, his business, and what he let happen to me. He cares more about his reputation than anything. I knew if I had even a chance, that’s the shot I’d have to take,” she finished.

“That’s when he hit you?” Dominic concluded.

She nodded. “I don’t remember much after that.” She loosened her grip on the folder, placing it in her lap. “I probably made it worse if his reaction was any sign,” she gestured to herself. “I don’t know what’s in this folder. I don’t know if it’s better or really bad, but I know I fucked up. I broke your trust, and I am so sorry,” her voice broke at the end. She lifted her hand, wiping a tear from her scraped cheek.

Wincing from the touch, she pulled her hand away and squinted at it. There was a small amount of dried blood that came off with the tears on her palm. “Is that blood?” She asked aloud, touching her cheek again before examining it.

She really couldn’t see with one eye swollen shut and the other tearing up.

She stood abruptly, placing the folder on the couch where she sat before stumbling to the bathroom. I quickly followed, holding her arm (in an area that wasn’t bruised) to help her walk. “You’re not bleeding anymore; it was dry blood,” I tried to calm her.

“I didn’t know I was bleeding,” she responded before standing in front of the mirror.

She rubbed her blurry eye, ridding it of tears as she saw herself. I could only watch as she froze again, a look of terror on her face. It dawned on me that this was her first time seeing the damage Charles had done to her.

Touching her stomach, she looked down at the shoe print. She ran her fingertips over her cheek, where his knuckles cut her skin open.

I gently pulled her hand away from her face, turning her away from the mirror as she faced me. “Talk to me. Tell me what you’re thinking—”

Turning quickly, she fell to her knees, heaving over the toilet. Acting quickly, I grabbed a cloth and dampened it with cool water. I grabbed her hair, pulling it away as she emptied her stomach. “I’m sorry, Baby. I swear to God, no one will ever lay a hand on you again,” I promised.

The sight of herself, her admittance to us, or the fear of what was in that folder could have made her sick. Whatever it was, she was officially done for the night. I was calling it. No more talking. Her mind and body couldn’t take it. She was exhausted, bruised, and mourning any fond memories of Charles. She wouldn’t remember those; she’d remember this.

Once she had nothing left to give, I lifted her into my arms. She was trembling, and the freezing temperature of the house did not comfort her.

“I’m taking her to bed; that’s enough for tonight,” I announced as I passed the living room.

“Wyatt—”

“No. We’ll talk in the morning,” I denied.

“You own the manor,” Aiden deadpanned, making me stop in my tracks.

Both Odette and I turned to look at him. “Excuse me?”

Aiden held up the folder. “He put it in your name. It’s completely paid off, and the property taxes are covered for the next ten years. All you have to do is sign.”

This time, it was my turn to freeze. I didn’t understand. I suppose I should have felt happy, but I was struck with confusion. “Are you certain?” I began taking steps toward them. “Wyatt William Wright, that’s the name on the paperwork?” I pushed.

Dominic took some papers from the folder and we watched as his eyes scanned them. Minutes went by as he carefully read everything, looking for a catch.

In this economy, this manor, no matter how dated, was worth millions. Unless Odette scared the life out of him with her threat, Charles Whitlock did not buy the manor for us.

We were all silently watching Dominic read page after page until he got to the last one. He looked up at Odette in astonishment. “All Wyatt has to do is sign,” he repeated Aiden’s earlier statement. “The restraining order is voided,” he added while holding up a document with a red void stamp across the front. “Odette, what exactly did you say to him?” He asked.

She dropped her legs, and I let her stand. She held the back of the couch as she spoke. “I think I might have mentioned I’d be the only one in attendance at his funeral. And that I’d spit in his grave?” She cringed at the harshness. “There was also a cold-blooded remark he didn’t appreciate much. And as a cherry on top, I told him that his death was in my hands and I would drag his name through the mud...”

A quick scoff left my lips, and Niko even chucked once. Odette was a timid person. It must have taken her a lot of courage to stand up to Charles the way she did. For her to make such threats was very bold.

“It worked,” Aiden deadpanned. “Whatever you said to him convinced him to undo his plans,” he ran his hands through his hair. I couldn’t tell if he was in shock or relieved. This was a lot to take in in a single night.

It was safe to assume this was Charles trying to make up for beating his daughter. It was also safe to assume he picked me randomly to sign the house over to; I wasn’t any more preferable than the others, and I’d never officially met the man.

Odette closed her eyes and breathed deeply, her shoulders relaxing as she exhaled. I admired her and the happy expression in her features.

She went through hell tonight. Yet, she only seemed to care about us and our well-being. Earlier, she said she couldn’t tell us because she was selfish. That wasn’t true. She was trying to protect us from Charles. Her actions were altruistic. She’d been protecting herself from him for her whole life; she was trying to keep her life with us as separate as possible from him.

“Odette,” Niko said. She opened her eyes. “Everything’s going to be okay,” he relaxed. “And by the way... we don’t hate or detest you for keeping this from us. This was hard. I’m sorry you thought you had to face it alone. If we had known, we could have helped you. We can only be there for you if you allow us, Cari?o,” he gently reprimanded.

“You know that we love you,” Aiden bluntly said. “So let us,” he begged. “The best way we know how is to care for you. We can’t do that if you face everything alone,” he finished.

She sniffled. “I know...” she looked down at the couch. “I’ll work on it, okay? It’s difficult for me to admit when I’m not okay or I need help,” she looked up. “But keeping that from you felt worse than this,” she gestured to herself.

“Even if something as mundane as a bad day,” Dominic joined in. “We want you to share that with us. No more keeping things in.”

“I promise,” she agreed.

“Aiden,” she sent him a pointed look. “Tell me again when I don’t look like a blobfish?” The corner of her mouth lifted into a small smile.

“I take it back,” he rolled his eyes. It was silly, considering words couldn’t be unspoken. I suppose she didn’t want to remember our first spoken ‘I love you’s’ being bruised and bloody.

Niko took her upstairs to clean her up and let her sleep. Once the bruises fully developed, she’d be very sore in the morning.

“Where are my keys?” Dominic asked while returning to the living room where Aiden and I sat, reviewing the documents again.

“What? Are you going to break into the Whitlock mansion and beat him?” Aiden cocked an eyebrow. “He has security, Dominic. I don’t feel like bailing you out of jail tonight,” he dismissed.

I smirked. I wasn’t a violent man; I was nearly a pacifist. However, I was my father’s son. I didn’t live in Alabama for long, but my family brought their southern... customs with them. Unfortunately for Charles, I was raised around hicks who didn’t tolerate men laying hands on a woman.

“Wyatt...” Aiden narrowed his eyes on me. “I know that look. Don’t be stupid,” he warned.

Too late. I stood, patting Dominic’s shoulder as I passed. “Be right back.”

When I opened the drawer I’d hidden the keys in, I was surprised to see it was empty. I rolled my eyes. “Niko...” I mumbled under my breath. Somehow, he knew I’d end up giving the keys to Dominic or joining him myself, so he’d re-hidden them.

As much as I didn’t want to credit him, it was a smart move. I wanted to feel Charles’ bones snap under my knuckles and hear him confess to the police he’d certainly denied the accusations of earlier.

I closed the drawer. As angry as we were, and as much as Charles deserved it, we wouldn’t be leaving the manor tonight. This wasn’t Niko’s way of saving Charles from us. He was saving us from going to prison for manslaughter.

Odette needed us. Aiden said it best; the only thing we could do was care for her. Even if that meant sharing a bed with Niko to be with her tonight, that was what I’d do.