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“What am I supposed to do, Ry?”
“How about not let him win? After all you and Phoebe have been through, are you going to let this asshole break you? Because that’s not the brother I know.”
His speech gutted me. “I don’t know how to fight him.”
Ryker waited a long time before answering. Finally, he reached in his pocket and handed me his phone. “If anyone can get Iris back, it’s you and Phoebe. But only as a team. She’s doing this interview with or without you. How’s it going to look to Dalton if she’s sitting there alone? Easy target? Ready for a matching set?”
Matching set.
The phrase resonated in my mind as if he’d shot an arrow into it.
Lord’s Princess.
Little Princess.
My mind finally made the connection to what’d been confusing me the whole time. What sat as a seed in the back of my brain, refusing to sprout into the reality it’d always been—Dalton’s end game.
He wanted them both.
“Christ!” I bolted off the couch and ran for the shower. The press conference was in less than an hour.
I just hoped it wasn’t too late.
