Blake does it first.
"They called me a creative lead," he says, and every adult at the table stills. He doesn't look up from the container he's barely opened. "Again. Not in those exact words this time, but that was the shape of it. Victor looked at Luther every time governance came up. Dorian looked at me every time emotion did."
Luca's face changes. The softness drains from it, leaving something protective and quiet behind. "I hate that."
"So do I," Blake says. "But I hate more that I still want the deal."
Grayson leans back in his chair, one hand still resting near Samuel's cup in case it tips. "Wanting the resources isn't the same as trusting the people offering them."
"No," Blake says. "But resources matter. Ember House needs stable funding. The intake suites need to be finished before winter. We've got calls coming from three counties over. Starlight Falls III is big, but it's still one launch. One launch carrying the company, the sanctuary, the staff, the kids' future, everything. I know we keep saying we'll find the money. This is the money."
His voice doesn't rise, but it pulls tight. I see the strain in his shoulders, the familiar pressure of his mind trying to turn love into math. Luca reaches under the table for his hand. Blake lets him take it.
"Dorian made my skin feel strange," Luca says after a moment.
The sentence lands more heavily because he says it so simply. No one interrupts him. Even Samuel, who's started drawing a snack cabinet on the back of a napkin, stays quiet.
"He was polite," Luca continues, looking down at his plate. "That almost made it worse. I don't know how to explain it. He looked at me like he already knew what part of me would photograph well."
Grayson's hand closes around the back of Luca's chair. His scent shifts, warm cedar sharpening at the edges, but he keeps his voice gentle when he speaks. "Then that matters."
"I know." Luca looks at Blake, and there's no accusation in it. Only worry. "I want Ember House safe. I want the residents safe. I want you safe too, Bear. I just don't want the price to be letting strangers decide which parts of our pain are useful."
Blake's eyes close briefly.
Maceo turns a page in the packet. His voice remains calm, which makes the room steadier. "The problem's the access language. 'Impact-related materials' is undefined. Their deck says resident participation would be voluntary, but voluntary becomes complicated when the organization controlling funding also controls visibility. Who approves social-impact campaigns? Who defines resident-facing material? Does Ember House retain veto power? Does partner access survive termination? Are resident stories excluded by default or included until someone objects?"
Blake rubs the bridge of his nose. "They had answers in the meeting."
"They had language," Maceo says. "That's not the same thing."
I glance at him. "Can it be fixed?"
"Maybe." Maceo folds his hands over the document. "But only if we begin from no access and make them earn specific, revocable exceptions. Resident stories excluded by default. No photography in intake areas. No donor walkthroughs without Ember House approval. No use of Luca, the children, or any resident history in campaign materials without separate written consent that can be withdrawn. No penalty for refusal. No implied consent through program participation."
Blake listens to every word. So does Luca.
Grayson shifts, eyes moving from Maceo to Blake. "Even if they agree to all of that, I'm worried this doesn't take work offyour plate. I think it puts a bigger machine around you and then everyone says you have help while you become responsible for keeping the machine from hurting us."
Blake's jaw works. "That's unfair."
"No," Grayson says, and there's no heat in it. "It's what you do. You turn help into another system you have to manage. You'll read every contract, every deck, every campaign, every localization file, every animation note, every sanctuary funding report, and you'll tell us it's fine because at least the bills are paid."
Blake looks away.
Rosalie pushes a fry against my mouth. I take it because my hands need something simple to do, and because refusing her would start a separate negotiation none of us have the energy for.
Victor Hale's offer sits in the middle of the table even though the man himself is gone. It's in the numbers Blake can't ignore, in Luca's tightened fingers, in Maceo's marked clauses, in Grayson's exhausted worry. It's in my own chest too, in the place that responds to every mention of less weight on Blake's shoulders.
"We're not deciding tonight," I say.
No one argues. That's how I know they're all more afraid than they want to admit.
"Maceo, I want the full legal breakdown tomorrow. Blake, I want operational benefits separated from sanctuary access. We need to know what part of the deal's actually necessary and what part's dressed up to look inevitable. Luca, I want your list of non-negotiables for Ember House. Grayson, I want you in the conversation about workload, because you're right. If this makes Blake larger instead of lighter, that matters."
Blake exhales. "I can handle being in the conversation, Luther."
"I know." I look at him until he looks back. "You're leading it. That doesn't mean you get to bleed through it."
