Chapter 25
25
LILY
W ithout another word, Archer and I are both on our feet from the couch and racing toward the basement door off the kitchen. Thor barks excitedly, following as we thunder down the wooden stairs into the cool, dimly lit space below.
I’ve been down here before—James showed me the freezers where Hunter stores game meat, and I’d joked nervously about it being the perfect place to hide bodies. The basement is utilitarian—concrete floor, exposed beams overhead, walls constructed of fieldstone and mortar. Two large chest freezers hum against one wall. Shelves lined with emergency supplies occupy another wall, while tools hang in neat rows above a workbench in the corner.
“Start checking the walls,” Archer instructs, already running his hands over the rough stone surface. “Look for anything unusual—loose stones, hollow sounds, weird patterns.”
I move to the opposite wall, tapping and pressing methodically. “I can’t believe he buried it in the house. It’s pretty genius.”
“It’s kind of amazing they knew each other at all. What are the odds?”
We check every inch of wall space. “It’s not here,” I finally say, leaning back against the wall in defeat. “Maybe we misunderstood what she meant, or—” My elbow presses against what should be solid stone but instead gives slightly. I freeze, then press again, harder. Something shifts behind me.
“Archer! I think I found something!”
He rushes over as I examine the stone more closely. It looks identical to those surrounding it, but when I push, it moves inward slightly. Archer joins me, both of us pressing against the stone until we hear a faint mechanical click.
A section of wall about three feet wide swings inward, revealing a dark space beyond.
Just then, heavy footsteps sound overhead, followed by voices calling our names.
“Where the hell is everyone?” Hunter growls.
“Get your damn asses down here now!” Archer shouts back. “The treasure was in the house the whole time!”
Thunderous footfalls rush down the stairs. Hunter appears first, his tall frame filling the doorway, followed closely by James. Both men look exhausted, faces wind-burned, with small cuts and forming bruises visible on their exposed skin.
“You’re back,” I say, relief flooding through me so intensely it makes my knees weak. I move toward them without thinking, needing to confirm with my own hands that they’re really okay.
James catches me first, strong arms wrapping around me in a tight embrace that lifts me slightly off the ground. “Told you I’d be back,” he murmurs against my hair, his voice rough with fatigue but warm with something else—something that makes my heart flutter.
Hunter steps in as James releases me, his large hand wrapped around me. “Everything’s fine,” he assures me, pressing his lips to mine. “Got the map back, sorted Travis out.”
I examine them both more closely, noting the way James favors his right side and how Hunter winces slightly when he turns too quickly. “You’re hurt,” I accuse, hands fluttering over them uselessly. “Both of you.”
“Just bruised,” James dismisses. “Nothing serious.”
“What happened?” I ask, eyes scanning them both for hidden injuries.
“Later,” Hunter says, his attention caught by the open stone door. “What the hell is that?” He points to the secret compartment in his wall.
Archer quickly explains our discovery—the call with my grandmother, the revelation about his grandfather’s true treasure plan.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Hunter groans, running a hand through his disheveled hair. “It was in the house the whole time? That’s exactly the kind of thing Grandfather would do!”
“The old man had a twisted sense of humor,” James adds.
“Well, don’t just stand there,” Archer urges, gesturing to the opening. “Let’s see what’s inside!”
Hunter produces a flashlight from a nearby shelf, and we crowd around the narrow opening as he goes in. The beam illuminates a tiny, confined space, no larger than a closet, carved directly into the foundation. Against the back wall sits an old wooden chest, its brass fittings tarnished with age.
“My God,” Hunter whispers, stepping carefully into the space. “It’s really here.”
The chest isn’t locked. Hunter kneels before it, hands shaking as he lifts the heavy lid. Golden light seems to spill out as it opens, reflecting off the flashlight beam.
Inside, stacked in neat rows, are dozens of gold bars, each about the size of a smartphone. Mixed among them are leather pouches Hunter picks up, and they clink with the unmistakable sound of coins.
“Holy shit,” James breathes, crouching beside Hunter. “How much do you think is in there?”
“Millions,” Archer estimates. “Gold prices today... this could be worth five, maybe ten million.”
I stare at the gleaming treasure, struggling to process what I’m seeing. It’s like something from a movie, not real life—not my life, certainly.
Hunter reaches in among the gold and pulls out a sealed envelope, yellowed with age, then he comes out into the basement. His hands tremble slightly as he breaks the seal and unfolds several pages of handwritten text.
“It’s from Grandfather,” he whispers, as if it’s hard for him to contain his emotions. He clears his throat and begins to read.
My dear Hunter,
If you’re reading this, then you and Travis have finally put aside your differences long enough to solve my little puzzle. For that alone, I am proud of you both.
I must confess something that may anger you initially: I have known the location of the ‘lost’ Thorne treasure for over forty years. I found it one summer, hidden in a cave system on the north ridge where no one had thought to look before.
I did not keep this discovery secret out of greed or selfishness. I used much of it to rebuild our family’s legacy—the cabin where you now stand, the ranch that has provided for our family for generations, the additional land that ensures our privacy and self-sufficiency.
The remainder I have divided equally—half here in your home, half in an identical hiding place in Travis’s ranch house. Yes, there is a secret compartment there as well.
I know Travis is difficult to understand. His path has been harder than yours in many ways. The abuse he suffered at the hands of his mother’s family haunts him still. I tried to gain custody of him after your parents and his father died, fought through legal channels for years, but I failed him. This treasure is my small attempt to make amends for that failure.
My deepest wish is that you boys find a way to make peace. Family is the only treasure that truly matters in this life. Everything else is just metal and stone.
The gold is yours to do with as you see fit. I ask only that you consider what truly brings happiness before you decide how to use it.
With all my love and faith in you both, Grandfather Malcolm.
Hunter lowers the letter, his ice-blue eyes suspiciously bright in the dim light. For the first time since I met him, the mountain man looks vulnerable, his usual stoic demeanor cracking to reveal the pain beneath.
Without thinking, I move to him, wrapping my arms around his broad shoulders. For a moment he stiffens, then relaxes into the embrace, his head bowing to rest against my shoulder. James places a steadying hand on his back while Archer rests a palm on his arm. The four of us connected in a moment of shared emotion that tightens my throat.
“Travis has the same amount waiting for him at his place,” Hunter says finally, his voice rough. “He just didn’t know it. I will let him know.”
I stare at the three men surrounding me—Hunter with his intense strength, James with his protective possessiveness, and Archer with his addictive affection. Men who were strangers just days ago but now feel more essential to me than almost anyone else in my life.
I think about the bakery, about Hannah coming to pick me up later today, about the reality waiting for me outside this mountain cabin. Something twists painfully in my chest at the thought of leaving.
“So what happens now?” I ask, looking from one man to the next. “With the treasure? With Travis?” With us, I want to say, but the words refuse to come. My chest is clenching really hard.
Hunter rises to his feet, carefully folding his grandfather’s letter. “We need to pull the treasure out first,” he says, practical as always.
James and Archer move to help, the three of them working together to slide the heavy container out of its hiding place. Thor watches from the stairs, tail wagging with excitement at all the activity.
“As for Travis,” Hunter continues once the chest sits in the middle of the basement floor, gleaming dully in the overhead light. “Maybe someday we can make up. Maybe. He’s still the one who broke into my home and endangered everyone here.”
“One step at a time,” Archer suggests, resting a hand on Hunter’s shoulder. “The old man was right about one thing—family matters.”
“Family isn’t always blood,” James adds quietly, his gaze moving between all of us.
The words hang in the air, full of meaning I’m almost afraid to examine too closely. I don’t know if that includes me… not sure how it can when we are just getting to know each other. Am I just a guest they helped, someone who’ll leave their lives as quickly as I entered it?
My stomach turns with uncertainty, but as I watch them, I’m struck by how right it feels to be here with them. How natural.
“We should celebrate,” Archer announces suddenly, breaking the somber mood. “This calls for champagne, or at the very least, some of Hunter’s expensive whiskey.”
“It’s barely noon,” I point out, though I can’t help smiling at his enthusiasm.
“It’s five o’clock somewhere,” he counters, slinging an arm around my shoulders. “Besides, how often do you find millions in gold hidden in your basement wall?”
“He has a point,” James concedes, the corner of his mouth lifting in that half-smile that does ridiculous things to my insides.
Hunter nods, some of the tension easing from his shoulders. “Fine. But first, we need to secure this properly.” He glances at the open wall compartment. “And figure out if there are any other secret spaces my grandfather built that we don’t know about.”
As the men discuss logistics, I stand slightly apart, watching them interact and how well they get along.
For a moment, I’m struck by a sense of not belonging, of being an outsider. But then James pauses at the bottom of the stairs, looking back at me with a raised eyebrow.
“You coming, baker girl?” he asks.
“Wouldn’t miss it,” I reply, hurrying to join them.
We head upstairs, leaving the treasure for now I assume, and emerge into the kitchen, now bathed in midday sunlight that streams through the large windows. The storm that brought me here feels like a distant memory, the world outside transformed into a brilliantly white landscape under clear blue skies.
“Table,” Hunter directs..
We drink, the whiskey burning pleasantly down my throat, warming me from the inside. For a moment, we sit in companionable silence. Yet something aches deep inside me, knowing that as much as I love it here, do I really belong?
Thor pads across the room and flops down at my feet with a contented sigh, his blue eyes watching us all with canine curiosity.
“So,” Archer says finally. “What’s the plan now? With the treasure?”
“Whatever we want,” Hunter says finally. “Fulfill all our fantasies and dreams.”
Suddenly, they all turn and look at me... my cheeks flush under their combined gaze, heat spreading down my neck.
“What?” I ask, trying to sound casual despite the butterflies suddenly taking flight in my stomach.
James moves first, crossing the space between us in two long strides. His fingers brush a curl from my face, lingering against my cheek. “I think you know exactly what.”
Archer appears at my other side, his hand finding the small of my back. “The question is, what do you want, Lily?”
Hunter completes the circle, standing directly in front of me, his imposing presence making me feel deliciously small.
My mouth goes dry. They’re so close, surrounding me with their combined scents—cedar and chocolate, pine and woodsmoke, old books and bergamot.
“I-I…” My words tangle in my throat, my heart thumping so hard, I feel the room spinning. I know what I want… them. Fuck, I want them for good so badly it hurts, yet a fear tumbles within me that our storm time was just that. Fun. Helping me. But now reality settles in.
I open my mouth to say something—to tell them I would love to give us a chance, a thousand times yes, beyond just our attraction and my heat—when a sharp knock at the front door freezes us all in place.
We pull apart slightly, exchanging confused glances.
“Who the hell is that?” Hunter growls, his protective instincts visibly flaring.