“Let her try,” Ryker said, stepping up beside me.

His hand touched my shoulder, a rare gesture of comfort from my brother.

“We have the legal right to protect them for now,” he said.

“Hannah Brooks is still reviewing the emergency placement.”

“And if Hannah decides this house isn’t safe?” I asked.

“We make sure it is,” Ryker said.

Suddenly, a sharp buzz cut through the quiet room.

It wasn’t the security system this time.

It was the landline telephone on Ryker’s desk.

The red line was flashing.

Only three people had that direct number.

Ryker walked back to the desk and picked up the receiver.

He didn’t speak. He just listened.

I watched his jaw tighten, the muscles in his neck standing out.

He slowly pulled the phone away from his ear and pressed the speaker button.

A woman’s voice, cold and sharp as cracked ice, filled the study.

“I know they’re with you, Ryker,” Marissa Vale said.

“And I know what you’re looking for.”

“I know they’re with you, Ryker,” Marissa Vale said. “And I know what you’re looking for.”

Ryker did not flinch.