Chapter 21
When they finally come just after 1 AM, it’s precisely as I predicted it. They infiltrate the mountain in the dark, traveling up the portions with the easiest ascent, moving stealthily under the cover of night through the trees.
Even with the benefit of having information from Wendy on how best to make their approach, it still takes them hours—time I’ve spent sitting in front of the fire with a drink, watching it all unfold on my phone screen, which displays the audio and video feeds of each camera we placed.
It’s all I can do now—wait.
With Callista safely locked away in the library.
Turning that key and sealing her inside felt like taking a massive step back for us, like returning to that first night and morning when I was forced to do the same while I reeled over having her here and tried to make sense of the game Wendy was playing.
Now I understand it.
And I’m more than ready to make the final move.
All I need is for the queen to appear.
But Wendy is too smart to come up Barker Mountain before her men are in place, giving them time to advance and surround the house before the SUV turns off the highway and starts making its way up the road.
Taking a sip of my scotch, I watch it take the switchbacks, moving closer while anticipation thrums through my blood.
My eyes dart to my axe leaning against the fireplace hearth. Not far out of reach. But I don’t trust myself not to try to use it on her if it were in my hand right now.
Not after all these years.
Not after what she did to Callista.
It’s going to take every ounce of restraint I possess not to bury the blade into her the moment she makes her appearance, and this drink is the only thing helping keep The Beast placated, for the time being.
The SUV finally reaches the peak and pulls to a stop in front of the house. It remains running, lights on, illuminating the clearing and the trees lining it on that side, and one of the rear passenger doors swings open.
Wendy steps out like she’s on her way to a government meeting or press conference, not to have this confrontation.
I knew she wouldn’t come up here guns blazing to take Callista by force, not if there is any civilized way to handle the situation. The politician in her will always try to negotiate, to argue her side, to try to sway me to her thinking.
And the fact that she’s here, straightening the front of her skirt and standing in that uneven gravel in her heels, suggests she needs something, something far greater than a blond bargaining chip.
The men in the woods are merely her backup plan if everything else goes to shit, which means there might be a chance of my plan actually working.
If I can keep The Beast at bay.
I remain seated in my chair, sipping at my drink, letting the smoky, peaty flavors dance across my tongue and burn in my belly while I wait for the showdown that’s about to come.
The front door opens and closes, and I send a quick text before I slide my phone back into my pocket. There’s no point in watching anymore when I already know what’s waiting out there.
The click, click, click of her heels across the wood as she makes her way into the room echoes like a drumbeat, a battle song from an incoming army of one, until she finally reaches my side of the room and stands between the fireplace and me, staring me in the eye for the first time in years.
Wendy doesn’t come to Barker Mountain.
Not only because of the memories it holds for her, too, but also because she doesn’t want to be associated with The Beast, doesn’t want any nosy media or locals to start talking about how much time she spends up here with her gangster, dangerous brother.
She can’t have that, not while she is always smiling for the cameras and laying out the story of being what’s best for Montana, despite her horrific family legacy.
No one can ever know how hard she embraced that legacy and ran with it.
Gray eyes so similar to my own shine in the firelight, her dark hair not touched by the silver that overtook mine at such a young age, sleek and hanging down to her shoulders, her suit perfectly tailored.
She looks every bit the politician she is, but I can see beneath that perfect fa?ade.
I know what lies there.
A cold-blooded killer—one just as dangerous, if not more so, than The Beast because at least people have a warning with me. They know to stay away and what’s coming for them if they cross my path. With her, it’s a smile to your face and a stab in the back.
I take a sip of my drink and wait for her to start.
There’s no way I’m going to be the one to end this stalemate.
Finally, she gives me a tight smile. “It’s nice to see you, Weston.”
I swallow. “I wish I could say the same for you.”
“Shouldn’t I be the one who’s angry here? You killed six of my men last night.”
Snorting, I shake my head. “You brought that on yourself, sister. If you hadn’t taken Callista, your men might still be alive. You didn’t offer me much choice on that matter.”
“Didn’t I?”
“What is it you had hoped to accomplish? Because I can only think of one thing—getting me to come off the mountain. And you did, so bravo.”
She releases a sigh, tucks her hands together at her lower back, and wanders over to the wall, staring up at the head of a bison that’s been mounted there since well before either of us was born. “I do need something from you, Weston.”
“I figured.”
Otherwise, the status quo that had existed for the last three decades would have continued uninterrupted. She would have had no reason to throw that axe in Fox’s door and initiate the entire Callista ruse.
Glancing over her shoulder, she briefly drifts her gaze over me before looking away again. “I’m sorry if you—”
“Did I just hear the words ‘I’m sorry’ from your mouth?”
Wendy Barker doesn’t apologize.
Father taught both of us that apologies were weakness, merely placations to make ourselves feel better about something we did when we should have been embracing and owning our actions.
That tells me only one thing: whatever she needs must be very big.
She doesn’t respond to my question; she just tilts her head in her examination of the bust. “I won’t be in Helena much longer…”
My back stiffens as I watch her move to the next head and stare up at it.
“I’ve been tapped to run for president in the next election.”
I almost choke on the next sip of my drink. “You’re joking.”
She shakes her head, then looks over her shoulder at me with a smug smile. “Truth be told, it’s always been my goal, my dream, but I never saw it coming to fruition until the last year. The only problem becomes what happens when I have to spend most of my time on the campaign trail and, hopefully, in DC? Someone will have to step up here.”
A low growl slips from my lips. “And you thought by kidnapping Callista, you could get me to do it?”
She wanders back over to me. “I thought by kidnapping Callista, it would help you understand and remember your role. It might bring back the brother I once knew. It might awaken The Beast. And it worked, didn’t it?”
The smug rise of her dark brow twists my gut.
Fuck.
That’s what she wanted.
The bloodshed.
The bodies.
My axe and hands dripping with that crimson liquid that proved it was still inside me.
That was all part of the setup.
“I’ll give you credit, Wendy.” I raise my drink to her. “You got me. You’ve proven there’s very little I’m not willing to do when it comes to protecting that woman. But just because you got me to dirty my hands again doesn’t mean I want to step back into that role or any other. I never wanted what Father had. That was always Ray’s—”
“No, it was always mine.” The sharp bite in her voice cuts through the air. “He was blind to what I could offer him because I didn’t have a dick hanging between my legs. Both of you cut me out.”
“I didn’t cut you out. I tried to protect you.”
“Same fucking thing from where I stood.”
How did I miss it?
Wendy managed to conceal this festering hatred and resentment for Father and me for so many years…
“Well, you got what you wanted now, didn’t you?”
Her bright-red lips curl. “The last thirty years have been very good to me, but I want to secure the future, Weston. And for that, I need your help.”
“I’m not going to help you.”
A slim, dark brow rises. “Are you sure? Just because you have Callista locked up in your library doesn’t mean I can’t get to her.”
Her words send a chill down the back of my neck, and my hand tightens around the crystal tumbler.
“You touch her, you die.”
The satisfied grin that spreads across Wendy’s lips only makes my blood run colder. “There’s the beast I’ve been looking for. I always knew he was there. Didn’t it feel good, creating the bodies instead of just burying them?”
No, it didn’t.
It felt like my soul had been ripped apart again. Even though I was doing it for a good reason, to protect Callista, it still felt awful, just as it had every time I did it for Father.
My curse rearing its ugly head.
“I won’t do it, Wendy. I won’t come back.”
She raises her hands, her shiny manicured nails reflecting the glow of the fire. “Then it appears we’re at an impasse.”
I nod slowly and lift my glass to my lips to down it. “It would appear we are.”
I can feel them coming.
That deep, aching sense of dread only grows as they get closer and closer to the house each hour that has passed since Weston first told me they had arrived at the base. And even in the pitch black of night, staring out the library windows overlooking the valley, it feels as though I can see them lurking, waiting to make their move.
Though it’s undoubtedly my overactive imagination playing tricks on me.
Wendy isn’t stupid enough to use men who don’t know what they’re doing. She’ll use a real hit squad, one that will come for me and take me easily to ensure Weston understands the ramifications of not complying with whatever it is she wants him to do.
Our only hope is that she is stupid enough not to see what Weston is doing.
That contradiction is what makes my stomach churn and my body tremble. Sitting here for so many hours, my knees bouncing, my hands sweaty and clammy, waiting for the right time to act, has wound me so tight that I might snap at any minute.
I’m not good at this.
Doing nothing, knowing Weston is facing her alone.
It will only take one slip, one mistake on his part to ruin everything, and if anything happens to him, I don’t think I’ll be able to make it on my own.
In only a matter of one short month, I’ve gone from despising the man to needing him more than I need my next breath.
What does that say about me?
Probably nothing good.
But I prefer to think of it as being a hopeless romantic who was able to see good where no one else could, instead of a desperate woman who was brainwashed by her captor.
That makes it easier to think about what comes next.
To plan for beyond tonight.
To hope there will be a future.
The phone Weston gave me buzzes in my pocket, and I release the breath I’ve been holding and pull it out to see the two simple words.
It’s time.
I’ve never been a good actress and always been a shitty liar, yet both are essential for any of this to work.
I have to be perfect.
Play my role while Weston does his without losing his cool.
Because he can’t do it alone. She would never believe him if he simply caved to her request, if he gave in and put up no fight against her when that’s all he’s done for decades.
Pushing away from the window, I head straight for the table and rip the lamp from the electrical plug. The brass sits far heavier in my hand than I imagined it would, and I can see why Weston told me to use it.
It makes a decent weapon, and I need something strong for what I’m going to do. My iron will won’t be enough to get through the lock on that door that keeps me in here.
I move to the solid slabs and swing the lamp as hard as I can at the knob.
Listening to Weston click that lock into place from the outside, shutting me in here earlier tonight, sent me spiraling into the horrible memory of the first time he sealed me into a room.
Of feeling trapped.
Of wondering what The Beast would do to me.
But this time, I will get out. And I will help keep The Beast at bay so Weston and I can do what we set out to when we laid this trap.
The solid metal smashes into its target, but the knob barely moves.
Shit.
It wasn’t like we could test this to ensure it would work. Him locking me in the library has to look real, as does my escape. If it doesn’t, the entire plan goes to shit, and any chance of walking away from tonight unscathed will vanish the same way Weston disappears the bodies of the Barkers’ enemies.
Come on.
Come on.
I slam into the knob again and again, unleashing all the rage I hold for the woman who brought me here into each swing, until finally, the ancient wood issues a groan of protestation. With only a few more strikes, the metal gives way, and I manage to pry the locking mechanism out and open the door.
Thank God.
I step onto the landing and stare down to the main floor foyer. Just as we had planned, the noise has brought Weston and a woman with matching wide gray eyes, who both stare up at me from down there.
Weston locks his gaze with mine, already hard as steel, filled with anger from whatever she’s already said to him. “What are you doing, Beauty?”
His voice carries up the three flights, sending goosebumps skittering across my skin, and the corner of Wendy’s lips tips up.
“It appears Ms. Fox would like to join our conversation.”
Weston spins toward her, towering over his sister, even in her heels, getting up in her face, snarling and ready to rip off her head. “Over my dead body.”
She doesn’t back down, just smirks. “That can be arranged, if that’s really what you’d like. But perhaps Ms. Fox has something to add to what we’ve been discussing.” Her gaze darts back up to me. “Do come down and join us.”
I don’t wait for approval from Weston.
He can’t give it.
The thought of allowing me in the same room with Wendy was enough to send him into a tailspin earlier, but we both know it’s necessary to accomplish what we want to tonight. So is the illusion that he doesn’t want me here, when, in reality, he can’t do this without me.
Both their sets of eyes on me, I make my way down the staircase, pausing at the second landing for a moment to try to gather my wits, because God knows this conversation won’t be easy.
You can do this.
Stick to the plan.
Stay calm.
By the time I make it to the bottom where they wait, my chest is so tight it feels like it might snap my ribs, but I force myself to keep breathing, to keep moving forward.
Weston grabs me and pulls me into his hold immediately, wrapping a protective arm around me and pressing his lips into my hair. He still carries the scent of the earlier rain, mixing with the smoke of the scotch he’s been drinking and that wood and leather scent I can’t get enough of. “You should have stayed upstairs, Beauty.”
I tilt my face up to him. “If you think I’m going to stay up there while you face down this bitch alone, you’re insane.”
Wendy releases a little laugh, and I glance over to find her red lips curled into a smile. “Your ‘Beauty’ has some bite.”
Weston just snarls at her.
Ignoring him, Wendy starts for the living room. “Ms. Fox, I think it is best that you’ve joined us. Maybe we can have a more civilized conversation with cooler heads prevailing.”
The way Weston practically vibrates against me, my guess is that he’s been nothing but using a cool head and controlling his temper the entire time they’ve been talking.
My presence is unlikely to help make that any easier. If anything, it will only set him more on edge, closer to losing it. He would have kept me out of it altogether if he had a choice, but since we have no other options, we follow her in, ensuring Wendy stays in front of us, never at our back.
Weston drops his lips to my ear. “If anything happens, you run into the woods. Gray will find you. He’ll protect you this time.”
I’d love to believe his words, but I also don’t want them to be true because I don’t want any of that to happen.
It’s the worst-case scenario.
For him to be bringing it up again and risking saying those words to me with her so close, then things have gone worse than I anticipated leading up to his signal for me to make my “escape” because she had arrived.
Weston guides me to the chair and slowly lowers me down into it, standing guard at my back, his massive hands resting just above my shoulders.
My mind can’t help but drift to what he did to me in this very chair only a few hours ago.
How he completely destroyed me and allowed me to fall apart before he put me back together again.
Before he assured me that this would all work.
But this isn’t the time to get lost in a memory, not when the enemy stands only a few feet from us, poised and ready to strike.
Wendy makes her way to the fireplace and pauses, staring at the axe leaning against it. “Ms. Fox, I’ve offered Weston the opportunity of a lifetime. The one that could have been his thirty years ago had he chosen to act accordingly.”
He scoffs from behind me. “You mean if I chose to kill my best friend, Eliza’s brother?”
She turns to face us, a pitied look in her eyes. “Your conscience didn’t get you anywhere, though, did it? You still lost him and her.”
His hands tighten on the leather, making it creak.
That little hint of jealousy I felt when he first told me he was previously engaged to a Rosewood comes back, making bile rise in my throat.
Almost as if Wendy can sense it, she gives me a cool smile. “She was the love of his life, you know, before all that mess.”
I know she’s only trying to get a rise out of me, but her words hurt all the same. There isn’t any time to act like a jealous teenager, though. This is the time I need to stay strong.
Swallowing thickly, I stare her down, refusing to let her see how her words may have affected me. “Was is the key word there.”
Weston releases a little huffed laugh behind me, and I glance up to find him smirking, his pride beaming through his gray gaze.
Wendy’s lips tip up as well. “I really hadn’t expected this much fire out of you, Callista. Your father isn’t exactly…oh, I don’t know how to phrase this without it sounding insulting to him, but he hasn’t posed much of a challenge.”
I hadn’t expected her to bring up Dad, and the mere mention of him is enough to sidetrack me from our main purpose here. “What are you going to do to him?”
Her eyebrows rise. “Well, that depends greatly on you and what happens here tonight. Weston has declined my offer to help run the business while I’m on the campaign trail and away from Helena. Perhaps you can be the voice of reason and get him to agree. It would certainly be the best way to protect your father.”