46. Brielle

The door swings open, and Conrad's smile greets me—a stark contrast to the turmoil churning inside me. His grin falters, then falls completely as he scans my face, reading the story my eyes tell before I utter a word.

"Hey, what's wrong?" His voice is a soft note of concern, wrapping around me like a blanket.

In an instant, his arms are my fortress, pulling me into the warmth of his chest. The familiar scent of him—woodsy cologne mingled with a hint of soap—should soothe me, but it just unravels me further. My sniffles break through the quiet of the hallway, each one a tiny echo of the chaos in my heart.

"Talk to me, Brielle." His hands glide up my back in steady strokes, trying to smooth away the tension knotted between my shoulder blades.

My breath hitches, catching on the lump in my throat. I press closer to him, seeking solace in his embrace while my mind races for the words that can explain the dread pooling in my stomach. Conrad's hug tightens, his silent pledge to shelter me from whatever storm is about to break.

The words are a sliver of ice down my spine. "Someone knows," I whisper, the confession spilling from lips that tremble. "They'll expose us if I don't…" My voice trails off, but I don't need to finish the sentence.

Conrad's body stiffens against mine. "Expose us?" His tone sharpens with the weight of understanding. "How? Who?"

"End things with you. All of you." The words hang heavy in the air, a sacrificial offering to this unseen threat.

Shock registers on Conrad's face, his blue eyes darkening like the sky before a storm. He steps back, his hands gripping my shoulders as he searches my face for answers I don't have.

"Brielle, do you realize what this could mean if your dad finds out?"

I nod, mute, each nod a hammer strike to my resolve.

From the living room, Grayson's gaze meets mine, and the gravity of his expression mirrors our collective fear. He's silent, but his concern is as palpable as the tension that now thickens the air around us.

Grayson's jaw sets, a decision forming in his eyes. He pushes off the couch, a swift movement that carves determination through the haze of our unease.

"I'll get Levi." His voice is low but carries the weight of command.

"Be quick," I urge, voice barely above a whisper.

He nods once and strides out, leaving Conrad and me in a silence that hums with unsaid fears.

Minutes stretch, thin and taut, before Grayson returns, Levi in tow. Levi's entrance, usually so confident, falters under the gravity of our gathered stares. His gray eyes flick to mine, seeking an explanation, but it's Conrad who steps forward to fill the void.

"Someone's threatening Brielle," he says, words clipped. "To expose us unless she breaks it off with us."

The news hits Levi like a physical blow; his posture straightens, the casualness wiped clean from his demeanor.

"Expose us?" he repeats, the question sharp as a knife's edge. "Who would?—"

"We don't know," I cut in, meeting his gaze head-on. "But they knew enough to make their threat credible."

Levi's hand clenches at his side, the muscle in his jaw ticking. Silence falls again, heavy, waiting for someone to shatter it with a plan we don't yet have.

"Okay, okay—" Levi's voice is a growl. "We confront the blackmailer head-on."

"No!" Conrad's rebuttal slices through the tension. "We play it cool, gather more info first."

"Useless! We need action, not caution!" Levi's hands are balled into fists now.

"Action could make it all worse," Grayson interjects, his calm demeanor fraying at the edges.

They're in each other's faces, anger crackling between them like a live wire. The air feels charged, too thick to breathe. I watch as they circle each other, predators locked in a territorial dance.

"Stop!" My voice echoes, sharper than I intend. They freeze, turn to me. "Fighting isn't going to solve anything."

I'm stepping forward, placing myself in the center of their triangle of tension. "We need each other," I insist, meeting each set of eyes in turn.

"Together," I say it like a mantra, willing it to sink in.

Conrad's chest rises and falls, his anger ebbing away as he looks at me. Levi's gaze softens, the rigid lines of his shoulders relaxing. Grayson nods, silent agreement in his usually stoic face.

"Okay, Brielle," Conrad concedes first. "What do you suggest?"

"First, we stay calm," I start, "then we plan. Together."

The room is a pressure cooker, ready to burst. I can almost see the steam rising from their heated brows as we huddle, trying to forge a path through the chaos.

"Okay—" Grayson's voice is steady, but his eyes are searching. "Is there anyone who might have it out for one of us? Anyone you can think of?"

Levi shakes his head, a strand of hair falling across his furrowed brow. "No one specific comes to mind. I keep things…clean. No loose ends."

"Clean?" Conrad's eyebrow quirks up as he releases a short, humorless chuckle. "If only our situation was as tidy." His attempt at levity falls flat, dying in the thick air between us.

"Come on, man," Conrad says, forcing a smile that doesn't reach his eyes. "We're like one big happy family, right?"

Levi doesn't crack a smile. His jaw clenches, and when he speaks, his voice is ironclad determination. "This isn't the time for jokes, Conrad. Someone's playing games with Brielle's life. Our lives."

I watch the jest drain from Conrad's face, replaced with a solemn nod. He knows Levi's right; we all do. The laughter lines around his mouth fade into something grim, something determined.

"Okay," he sighs. "You're right. Let's get serious. What's our next move?"

I square my shoulders, feeling the weight of our entangled lives pressing down. "What do we do now?" My voice slices through the silence like a knife, sharp with urgency.

Conrad steps closer, his presence a warm balm against the chill of fear. His hands find mine, his touch grounding. "We'll figure this out," he says, firm and resolute. "Together."

His eyes lock onto mine, the blue in them like a promise, steadfast and true. I nod, absorbing his strength, letting it seep into my bones. His words aren't just reassurance; they're an oath, a vow that he's here, with me, no matter what storms may come.

Levi paces, a caged panther with energy to burn. He stops, turns on his heel, facing us. "We need more information. We can't play defense forever." A new resolve hardens his voice, his brow set in a line of command. "We need a private investigator," he declares, and it's like he's laying down a royal flush on the table, confident and bold. "Someone skilled who can dig into this without alerting whoever's behind this."

Conrad nods, a silent sentinel by my side. Grayson's gaze is calculating, already moving chess pieces in his mind. The idea hangs in the air, full of potential and risk.

"Let's do it," I say, gripping Conrad's hand tighter. It's a leap into the unknown, but falling is easier when you know someone's there to catch you.

Levi's back is all coiled muscle and determination as he heads to the door. His steps are decisive, the thud of his boots against the floor a drumbeat to action. I can almost see the gears turning in his head, each step a calculation, a move forward.

"Wait," I call out, my voice more steady than I feel. "When will you?—"

"Tonight," Levi cuts in, not turning. He reaches for the doorknob, his hand a shadow against the metal. "I'll start making calls now."

Conrad squeezes my hand, a silent pulse of solidarity. Grayson leans forward, elbows on knees, his eyes tracking Levi's every motion.

"Be careful," Grayson says, the words a low growl of concern.

"Always am," Levi replies without looking back, his tone light but edged with steel.

The click of the door closing echoes through the room, leaving us in a hushed silence. It's like the world holds its breath, waiting to see what comes next.

"Okay," Conrad murmurs, breaking the quiet. "We stick together. No matter what."

I nod, feeling the weight of his gaze like an anchor. We're in this, deep. Deeper than they know. And there's no going back.