Chapter 30
Chapter Thirty
PRESENT
I tug my cardigan tighter around my shoulders as we follow Gabriel’s voice toward the stables. I walk beside Santi, my mind spinning with everything we learned last night. Secrets unraveling, one thread at a time, each one tugging me farther from the illusion of safety I’ve tried to build. The past was supposed to be buried, but instead, it’s clawing its way back up—louder, closer.
Gabriel waits near the workbench outside the stable, his tablet glowing faintly in the morning light. Anton leans against the building, his arms crossed, his expression unreadable but watchful. Not just serious—tense. Ready.
Their energy makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up. I know they’re waiting to deliver news I’m not going to like.
There’s no time for sugarcoating. “What is it?”
Gabriel’s gaze pierces me. “We’ve been working on the burner phone data with Enzo and Ava and managed to recover more overnight. The contacts—M and D—are using encrypted apps, but GhostEye traced an IP address to a warehouse two miles from downtown Echo Valley.”
I blink. “A warehouse?” My stomach tightens. Not an office. Not a house. A warehouse. “What kind of warehouse?”
Anton straightens slightly. “Storage. Legitimate on paper, but…” He lets the implication hang.
It’s not.
Gabriel confirms it. “We pulled the lease.” His brows furrow. “It was taken out recently. Since you’ve been in Echo Valley.”
The air is suddenly thinner.
Anton continues. “And it’s under a shell company tied to Pacific Dreams. GhostEye traced the money trail…”
Santi steps forward before I can even process it, his movements fast, controlled—but I feel the anger simmering beneath.
“Fucking hell,” he mutters, grabbing Gabriel’s tablet, scanning the details like he can force them to make sense. “The Mafia is in Echo Valley?”
Gabriel takes his tablet back, calm, the way only a man trained for war can be. “Apparently.”
Even with all I know now, hearing the word Mafia spoken so casually on this ranch—this place that feels like a separate world from the one I left behind—sends a shiver through me.
I cross my arms, forcing myself steady. “Or it could be M and D?”
Gabriel nods, but his expression doesn’t change. “What matters is if M and D or the ’Ndrangheta are operating there, it could hold answers—or it could be a trap.”
A chill runs down my spine. “The warehouse is active?”
Anton’s tone is grim. “We’ve seen movement. Deliveries, odd hours. Whoever’s using it is careful, but they’re not invisible.”
Santi doesn’t hesitate. “Tell me where to be, and I’ll be there.”
My chest tightens even though I knew he’d say that. Because it’s who he is—the man who runs into the fire without looking back. The man who would burn for the people he loves.
But I refuse to be the woman left behind. I refuse to be a name whispered in worry, a thought pushed aside while the men handle things.
“I need to face this with you.” My pulse pounds.
The words settle between us, heavier than the morning air. Santi stiffens. Gabriel and Anton exchange a glance. And I don’t miss the subtle dismissal in it. The silent assumption that I shouldn’t be part of this conversation at all.
Gabriel remains neutral. “The FBI are also looped in. They’ll scope it out tomorrow. They have red tape and procedures.”
“Tomorrow?” One day too late if you ask me.
“FBI has procedures…” Gabriel glances at Anton. “We don’t.”
Anton adds, “We’ll go tonight. Quietly. No attention. ”
And no space for argument.
I lift my chin. “If Santi is going, I want to be there, too.”
“No.” Santi’s voice is a wall. Unmovable. Uncompromising. He turns to me, dark eyes locking on to mine, their usual warmth buried under something fierce.
“No?” I echo, “This is my mess, Santi. People are risking their lives to fix it. I can’t just stand by and do nothing.”
His jaw tightens, his stance shifting like he’s planting himself between me and the entire fucking world. “And what if something happens to you, Kat?” He hardly contains the emotion rising up his throat. “What about Theo?”
It hits like a knife to the ribs. Because he’s right. And I hate it.
Before I can respond, Anton steps in, final and firm. “Neither of you are going.” His tone doesn’t invite argument. “Gabriel and I have the training. You don’t. She doesn’t. End of story.”
The fight drains from me. Anton isn’t wrong. Even if it makes me feel small. Even if it burns.
Gabriel is matter-of-fact. “We don’t stop until we have answers. Until everyone gets to go back to normal.”
The word tastes foreign. Normal. I don’t even know what that is anymore.
Santi’s hand brushes mine—a silent offer of comfort. I don’t pull away.
But helplessness still settles over me. I hate this.
“We’ll keep you updated,” Anton says. “In the meantime, stay here. Keep an eye on Theo and try not to let the kid know anything is going on. That’s your job.”
The words hit harder than I expect. They remind me of all the times I’ve been put in my place—told to sit back, to be the support, never the leader. But then Theo’s laughter comes up the path toward the yard, the hum of a lighthearted conversation between him and Luis. My son’s voice is innocent and pure, lifting the heaviness of the moment. My resolve shifts. He only has one mother.
Gabriel instructs Santi one last time while packing up his things. “Make sure you tell security on the ranch to be on high alert. We’re not taking any chances.”
I hate the fear that wraps itself around my chest like a vise, squeezing tighter with every passing second.
But the distant sound of laughter saves me from my spiraling thoughts. I glance toward the muck heap, where Theo is crouched beside Luis, who digs out a huge chunk of muck, throws down the shovel then crouches down, too. Both of them are engrossed in their makeshift treasure hunt. Luis holds a glass jam jar, dropping wriggling red worms inside while Theo bounces on the balls of his feet, excitement radiating off him.
Theo’s face lights up, then he dives his fingers into the mucky soil. “Gotcha!” he exclaims.
His laugh is infectious, so pure it momentarily drowns out the shadows lingering at the edges of my thoughts.
“Look, Mom!” Theo calls out, his small hand clutching something triumphantly. “We’re going to measure it later, but this could be a world record. Have you ever seen a worm this long?”
I laugh softly, walking over to join them. “Are you sure it’s not a snake?” I tease, crouching beside him.
Theo’s eyes widen, half delighted and half horrified. “Mom! Snakes don’t live in muck heaps!”
His face glows with wonder and joy, and for a moment, I’m reminded of how rare this sight has become. The weight he’s carried, the questions he’s asked—things no ten-year-old should have to endure. Yet here he is, happy, free. It fills me with equal parts pride and heartbreak.
He deserves this—a life untouched by the shadows of Nic’s choices. A childhood filled with moments like these, not the fear and uncertainty that’s dogged us for so long. A determination grips me. Whatever it takes, I’ll make sure he keeps his spirit. Theo deserves a mother who fights for his light, not one who gets swallowed by her fears. I owe him that much—and more.
Luis chuckles. It’s a balm against the tension knotted in my chest. “Kid’s got a good eye.”
He hands Theo the jar.
My son’s features brim with curiosity as he observes the twisting critters.
“Hey,” Santi arrives at Theo’s side. He bends down and points at the jar. “What will you do with these? Fishing?”
“I don’t want to kill them.” My son scrunches his nose. “Papa Luis says compost worms are superheroes for plants. We’re putting them in his garden.”
Papa Luis? They’ve bonded. There’s trust there. My heart swells to the point of aching.
Luis clears his throat, a faint flush coloring his tan cheeks. “I hope you don’t mind me giving the name,” he says, hesitant. “It’s just… Theo was calling me Mr. Luis, and it felt too formal. My grandson calls me Papa Luis, so I thought—well, I hope that’s all right.”
His shy tone brings a lump to my throat. The way he’s embraced us, made Theo feel like part of his family… It’s overwhelming in the best way. Luis didn’t have to step into this role, but he did—without expectation. His quiet strength and unwavering kindness are an anchor. He doesn’t need to say much; his actions do all the talking .
“That’s sweet,” I manage through the sting in the bridge of my nose. “Thank you.”
This is about so much more than names. Not just for Theo, but for Santi, too. It means our time here in Echo Valley isn’t just some passing moment—it’s something settling into place, something real.
Theo glances at me for confirmation. “There are a bunch of heaps around. Can Papa Luis and I check out some more before studying?”
I nod, brushing a hand against his cheek. “Of course, honey. Go on, have fun.”
As Luis leads Theo away, their comfortable conversation floating back toward me, a sense of calm settles over me, fragile but real.
Santi watches them, too, with an expression I can’t quite place—pride, maybe, nostalgia, or hope.
“Now that is what life is about,” he says, his words laced with something deeper.
We share this moment. It’s as if the rest of the world falls away. I think of the dreams we once shared, the way he’s stepped into a role he never asked for but has embraced so fully.
“I hope we can bring all this drama to an end before Theo feels it,” I sigh. “It’s been a rare sight to see him this way. Just…” My heart crumples with both happiness and melancholy. “…a kid.”
Santi reaches out. “We will. Trust me.”
I lean into his touch, letting myself believe him. But as the sun rises higher, bathing the ranch in light, a flicker of unease stirs in my chest. I push it aside, focusing instead on heading back to the barn. I won’t be going on a ride today. But grooming a horse does wonders for the nerves, too.
I grab Fuego’s grooming kit and walk him from his stall to some crossties outside the barn so I can be closer to where Theo is. Here, occasional giggles float to me, adding joy to my simple moment.
I run a brush through Fuego’s tail, wondering if I could still manage a Dutch braid, and suddenly, a sharp pang of unease grips my chest.
I glance over to the muck heap and can’t hear Luis and Theo anymore.
He’s fine, I tell myself. He’s probably knee deep in mud…
My hands move the brush, but it’s absent-minded. I can’t shake the chill that whispers across my skin.
I glance toward the heap again. Still no voices.
Maybe they went to the barn for another container…
Theo’s fine, I tell myself.
He’s playing.
But my body doesn’t believe a word.