Chapter 77
LILY
It’s a filly—small, wet, perfect. She lifts her head almost immediately, blinking at the world. The mare turns, nickering softly, and begins to clean her baby.
"Beautiful," Lester says, his voice thick. "Just beautiful."
I strip off the gloves and check the foal's breathing, her heartbeat. Everything is strong and steady. The mare is already on her feet, protective and attentive.
"She's healthy.” I stand, bending my back to stretch it after the physically brutal work. "They both are. The mare did great."
Lester's relief is palpable. "Thank you, Doc. I don't know what we would've done if you couldn’t come out."
"It all worked out," I say with a smile. "Keep an eye on them for the next few hours. Make sure the filly nurses within the first two hours. Call me if you have any concerns."
"Will do."
I pack my bag, wash my hands at the barn sink, and head back to my truck. I slide behind the wheel and pull out onto County Road 12, heading back toward Blackthorn Ranch. The road is empty, the landscape rolling past in shades of gold and green.
Ten minutes into the drive, my phone buzzes.
The screen mounted to my dash lights up with an incoming text. Unknown Number. It’s got to be Wes.
I pull onto the shoulder of County Road 12, gravel crunching beneath my tires while the truck idles around me. I pick up the phone.
Unknown Number
We should talk about your sister.
My vision tunnels.
It’s not Wes—he’d use our code. There are only a handful of people who know about Mandy.
Every instinct Wes drilled into me starts screaming at once. Trap. Manipulation. Psychological leverage. Designed to provoke an emotional response and override tactical thinking.
But my heart doesn’t care about tactics. I quickly tap back a reply.
I don’t have a sister.
Unknown Number
Don’t you?
I’m debating what to do when another message comes through—an image.
I open it and my breath stops.
It’s her. Older. Hollow-eyed. Thin enough it hurts to look at her. But it’s Mandy—alive.
I have so many questions, I can’t grasp just one. I’m staring at the picture so hard, trying to figure out what’s real and what’s not, that I startle and fumble my phone when another text comes in.
Unknown Number
Warehouse on the east edge of town. Old grain storage facility.
Twenty minutes. Come alone, or she dies.
Heart pounding, I hit Mason’s contact.
He answers on the first ring. “Lily.”
“He says he has her.” The words crack apart coming out of me. “He said Mandy is alive and he has her. He sent me a picture. Mason, could she possibly be alive?”
“Where are you?” he asks sharply.
“County Road 12.” I stare at the photo still open on my screen, struck by how much we look alike. I didn’t remember that. “I just left the Whitehorse place.”
“Send me the texts.”
I forward everything with trembling fingers. “He wants me at the warehouse on the east side of town in twenty minutes.”
“It’s a trap.”
I nod even though he can’t see me. “I know.”
“Lily—”
“I know.” My voice breaks this time. “But what if she’s really there? I have to see.”
A harsh breath crackles through the speakers.
“Lily girl, listen to me carefully.” His voice goes tactical, cold and impersonal, laying out facts. “Turner doesn’t suddenly grow a conscience and hand over hostages. He’s baiting you because he’s guessing what your sister means to you.”
I squeeze my eyes shut. He’s right—I know he’s right—but that picture is burned into my brain now. Mandy’s haunted eyes, her face. Proof that she exists somewhere other than my nightmares.
My phone buzzes again.
Unknown Number
Fifteen minutes, Lily. Tick tock.
“I can’t ignore this,” I whisper. “If she’s alive and I don’t go—”
“Lily—”
“You’d do the same thing for Jake or Luke.”
Silence.
Because we both know he would.
“Lily.” His voice drops, low and urgent. “Wait for me. We’ll walk into this together.”
“He said to come alone.” I put the truck in gear.
“Fucking hell, Lily.”
“The tracker’s still active, right?” I grip the steering wheel harder. “I need to believe you’ll come for me before this all goes bad.”
His answer comes instantly. “I’ll always come for you.”
I close my eyes a second. “I love you.”
“Lily—”
“I trust you. Come get me.” Hanging up, I put the phone in my pocket and step on the gas. The truck fishtails gravel as I pull back onto the road.
Toward the warehouse.
Toward my sister.
Toward Turner.