41. Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Sunny
I'm sitting in the window seat watching a couple men work on fixing a stretch of fence in the distance. It's been more than twenty-four hours since Levi got here. Since I told him I hated him. I still haven't worked up the nerve to leave my room.
The words still taste bitter in my mouth.
Sleep comes in waves, dragging me under then spitting me back out. My dreams blur with memories until I can't tell which is which anymore. Levi finding me. Levi leaving me. Z’s quiet knock on the door every few hours pulls me back from both.
This room feels both too small and too big. Four walls closing in on me while the space between them stretches out endlessly. I hate being trapped here, but where else can I go? My apartment isn't safe. The club isn't safe. Nowhere is safe.
I roll over, pulling my—Z's— shirt tight around me. It's comforting and I hate that it helps.
A sketchbook that Chase slid under the door for me sits unopened on the desk along with the pencils he gave me. I should draw, lose myself in the familiar motion of pencil on paper. But my hands feel empty, useless. Like they belong to someone else.
Footsteps approach my door again. Not Z's usual quiet tread—these are heavier, purposeful. A knock follows.
"Sunny." Z's deep voice carries through the wood. "I know you’re probably not ready to come out yet."
I stay silent, curled on my side.
"Wolf and I were working in the basement, bringing up some boxes." He pauses. "We found some… things. Things you need to see."
My heart stutters. What could they have possibly found that I need to see? I can't imagine anything good coming up from a basement in a place like this.
"I won't push," Z continues. "But it's important. When you're ready, come find me. I'll be in the office down the hall."
His footsteps retreat, leaving me alone with the weight of his words.
I close my eyes, trying to sort through the chaos in my head. Part of me wants to stay here, locked behind a door where nothing can touch me. Where I don't have to face Levi or my past or whatever Z found in that basement.
My fingers trace the wildflower tattoo wrapping around my ribs. The artist who did it said flowers represent rebirth. Growth from decay. Beauty from pain. I wanted so badly to believe that.
Z's words echo in my head. Things you need to see.
Need, not want. Z chooses his words carefully. If he says I need to see something, he means it.
I drag myself up, muscles protesting after hours of stillness. My reflection in the mirror shows a stranger—hollow eyes, tangled hair, borrowed shirt hanging loose on my frame.
This isn't me. This isn't who I am.
I splash water on my face, run fingers through my hair until it looks less wild. I grab another T-shirt from the drawer and slide it on. It'll have to do for clothes, I'm not ready to face anyone long enough to ask for anything else.
The hallway stretches endless before me when I finally open the door. Voices drift up from downstairs—Wolf and Chase discussing the last shift change, Ty's laugh, the clatter of dishes. Normal sounds that feel anything but normal right now.
I pad silently down the hall to the office, bare feet silent on worn wood. The door stands half-open, warm light spilling out. Z sits at his desk, head bent over something I can't see.
He looks up as I hover in the doorway, face unreadable. "You came."
"You said I needed to see something."
He nods, pushing back from the desk. "Come in. Close the door."
I do, though every instinct screams to keep an escape route open. Z has never given me reason not to trust him, but old habits die hard.
"Sit." He gestures to a chair across from him.
I perch on the edge, ready to bolt. "What did you find?"
Instead of answering, Z pulls open a drawer and sets a manila envelope on the desk between us. It's old, edges worn and frayed with time. No labels or markings to hint at what's inside.
"Before you open this," he says carefully, "I need you to understand something. What's in here—it's going to hurt. But you deserve to know the truth. And we all could use some answers."
I stare at the envelope, hands shaking as I reach for it. After everything—seeing Levi again, reliving that night, spilling my hatred at him— what could possibly hurt more than that?
"Go ahead," Z says softly.
I slide my chair closer to his desk, the legs scraping against hardwood. The envelope feels heavy in my hands, weighted with more than just paper. Taking a deep breath, I upend it over the desk.
Photos spill out first, scattering across the polished surface like fallen leaves. Behind them tumble what look like letters, paper yellowed with age, creases worn soft from repeated folding and unfolding. My heart stops as I pick up the first photo.
It's me. In a hospital bed.
The image is grainy, clearly taken from a distance, maybe through a window. I'm unconscious, tubes and wires everywhere. Bandages wrap my chest, peek out from under the thin hospital gown. Dark bruises mottle every visible inch of skin.
My hands shake harder as I pick up another. And another. More photos of me in the hospital, tracking my recovery day by day. Some are closer—taken from inside the room while I slept. The thought makes me shudder.
"There's more," Z says quietly.
I shuffle through the stack. Photos of me leaving the hospital. Getting on the bus. Arriving in Oak Valley. My first day working at Sirens. Years of surveillance, documenting every move I made.
"Someone's been watching me. All this time?" My voice sounds strange to my own ears.
"Look at this first," Z says. He's holding a stack of photos, separate from the rest. He takes the first one and passes it to me. Three men stand arm in arm outside what looks like a warehouse. "Do you recognize everyone in that photo? It was taken about a year before your father died."
"Umm. That's my dad. And that's Garrett?" My stomach lurches. "What the hell is this Zane?"
Zane reaches across the desk and points to the man in the middle. "That is Alexander Reeves. Levi's father."
"Wait." I grab Z's wrist as he reaches for another document. "My father knew Levi's father? That's... that's impossible. I would have known."
"Would you?" Z's voice is gentle. "You were young, Sunny."
I stare at the photograph again. My father—the man who taught me to draw, who'd sing off-key while making me sundaes—standing there with Alexander Reeves like they were old friends. And Garrett. The same Garrett who...
"No." My voice breaks. "My father would never associate with someone like Levi's dad. Or Garrett. He was good. He was..."
But was he?
The words die in my throat as Z slides another photo across the desk.
A birthday party. I instantly recognize myself and my old backyard. I'm maybe five or six, sitting at a picnic table, wearing a shiny party hat, getting ready to open a brightly wrapped gift. In the background, my father and Alexander Reeves sit at the patio table, heads bent close in conversation. Garrett stands behind them, eyes focused on me.
"This was at my house." Bile rises in my throat. "All this time. Garrett. He was there, waiting.”
"I don't understand any of this Zane." I swallow hard over the lump in my throat.
Z lays down a series of documents next to the photo. "Your father was apparently Alexander's accountant. These are transaction records he signed off on—millions of dollars in income. Illegal weapons sales, money laundering. He was in deep Sunny."
"That night. With Garrett. He told me he killed my father." I blink away the tears and take a deep breath. "But, I still don't understand."
"I don't know everything yet, Sunny. But, here." Z unfolds a letter, Alexander's precise handwriting stark against yellowed paper:
Garrett - The situation with Kent has gotten out of hand. It requires your immediate attention. Upon confirmation of removal, payment will transfer as discussed. Additional compensation to include all rights and control over his family assets and dependents. No police involvement. - A.R.
My hands shake as Z places bank statements beside the letter. Offshore accounts. Regular deposits spanning years, all into accounts with variations of Garrett’s name.
"This letter is dated within weeks of when your father disappeared. The only thing I can think of is he wanted out. Or he was skimming. And there was no way either of those things would be allowed." Z's voice is gentle. "Then this."
Another letter. Written in a messy scrawl I recognize immediately as Garrett’s.
It's done. Confirmation enclosed. Moving in with the widow and girl next week as agreed. They won’t be any trouble.. - G
"He gave us to him," I whisper. "Alexander Reeves paid for my father's murder with us ."
"Sunny, I think that everything that's happened since the night Garrett tried to kill you was all designed to make sure that Levi wouldn't find out you were alive. If you’d have ever met Alexander you’d know how important keeping Levi close to him was."
"And if Levi knew I was alive he'd have come for me.”
"Levi’s father was very single-minded. The only things that ever mattered to him were his money and his son. I think he kept you hidden by giving Garrett the resources to pull the strings that kept you apart. He made sure Levi believed you were dead. Made sure he had no reason to ever leave again.”
The final photo shows Alexander and Garrett together, dated just weeks before Alexander's death. The same offshore account numbers are scrawled on the back.
"When Levi killed his father..." I start.
"He unknowingly cut off one of the only ways he could've found you," Z finishes.
I stare at the evidence of decades of manipulation. My father's murder. My mother's pain.
"We have to tell him, tell them." My words surprise me.
"Are you sure?" Z studies me carefully.
"This is too big Z," I admit. "But at least now I understand why. Why Garrett always acted like he owned us. Why he could never be caught." I pick up the first bank statement. "He literally bought us."
Z reaches for the intercom. "I'll call him up."
"Wait." I grab his hand. "Just... give me a minute with this before you do that. To process it."
He nods, settling back in his chair. Waiting while I try to make sense of how my entire life was shaped by the three men staring at me from the old photo I'm holding.
And somewhere in this house, Levi is about to learn that everything he thought he knew about his father, about Garrett, about me, is even worse than he imagined.
I take a deep breath, steadying myself. "Okay, I'm ready."
Z nods, gathering the photos and letters. "I'll call everyone in."
Minutes later, all of the men who make up the inner circle are crowded into the office. Wolf and Chase lean against the wall while Ty perches on the windowsill. Colt sprawls in a chair, but his usual relaxed posture is tense. And Levi stands in the corner furthest from me, arms crossed, face unreadable.
My fingers twine through my hair nervously as Z lays out what we found. The surveillance photos are spread across his desk like a grotesque collage of my life. Seven years of me being stalked and documented.
"Jesus," Colt breathes, picking up a photo of me at Sirens. "This is..."
"Sick," Chase finishes, his deep voice rumbling with anger.
I force myself to look at Levi. His jaw clenches as he walks up to the desk and picks up one of the photos. It's one of me in the hospital, taken from the end of my bed while I sleep. He stares at it, his fingertips white where they grasp the shiny paper. The muscle in his cheek ticks—a tell I remember from before. A sign of him trying to keep himself in check.
"The letters are worse," I say, my voice steadier than I feel. "You need to read them."
I watch as Levi picks up the first letter, his eyes scanning the page. His face drains of color. He grabs another, then another, moving through them with increasing urgency. The photos scatter as he searches.
"Everyone out," he says, his voice a low growl. "Except Colt, Z, and..." His eyes flick to me, then away. "Sunny."
Wolf and Chase exchange glances before filing out silently. Ty and Jayce follow, closing the door behind them with a soft click.
"Is this—" Levi's voice cracks. He looks at Z, green eyes wild. "Tell me this isn't what it looks like."
The muscles in his jaw work, that familiar tick becoming more pronounced. His hands shake slightly as he picks up the photo of our fathers together.
"Z. This can't be right." Levi's voice cracks.
Z meets his gaze. "It is. Your father has been behind everything that's happened. He paid Garrett to kill Sunny's father. Then gave him the means to..." He glances at me, hesitating.
"To own us," I finish quietly. "Me and my mom. We were part of his payment."
Levi makes a sound like he's been punched. He braces himself against the desk, head bowed. "The accounts. The properties. All this time, it's been my father's money protecting him?"
"He knew the whole time." Levi's voice is barely a whisper. "He knew she was alive."
"Yes." Z's voice is gentle. "He used Garrett to keep her hidden from you. Used your belief in her death to keep you close."
"And my mother?" Levi asks, though I can see in his eyes he already knows the answer.
"On your father's orders." Z confirms. He picks up another sheet of paper, stapled to a faded polaroid, and offers it to Levi. "Proof pic, and a confirmation letter."
Levi reaches out his hand but yanks it back before he touches it. He shakes his head. "I can't…"
Instead, he picks up another photo—one taken of me getting off the bus in Oak Valley. His fingers trace the edges of the bandages visible in the image.
"I left you there," he says, not looking at me. "I left you, and he knew. He knew you were alive and he..." His voice breaks. "He let me think..."
The silence stretches between us as Levi absorbs each horrible revelation. His eyes move from photo to photo, letter to letter, piecing together the twisted web his father wove around all of us.
I watch his face as each new connection clicks into place. The way his father used Garrett. Used me. Used him. The way everything—every moment of pain and loss and grief—was carefully orchestrated by Alexander Reeves.
The enormity of the moment fills the room. Z looks to me and then to Levi before standing. Colt follows his lead.
"You two need some time to sit with this. We'll be downstairs if you need us," he says quietly.
I want to beg Zane to stay, but I know this conversation needs to happen. Has needed to happen since Levi walked back into my life.
The door clicks shut behind Z, leaving me alone with the man I once loved. The man who left me for dead.