Richard settled Brooklyn into the car, straightening to face Alex just as she was getting off the phone.

“Good.” He agreed, fishing the keys out of his pocket and setting them in Alex’s hand—pausing to give her fingers a brief squeeze, part gratitude simply for her presence, and to get her attention.

“Regardless as to what you’re told, don’t stop recording anything.” He instructed quietly. “You can’t use it for your show, but we can use it to keep her safe. Promise me.”