Chapter 22
Chapter Twenty-Two
Ledger
One second, I’m sitting across from Galeana at the marble island, a fork halfway to my mouth and leftover wedding cake teasing my taste buds. The next—boom.
The sound roars through the kitchen, deafening and primal, like a bomb detonating nearby. The cabinets groan violently, jars tumbling and crashing to the floor. The windows crack under the pressure, a few shattering with a sharp, piercing sound. My chair jolts back as the floor shudders beneath us, dishes rattling and falling off the counter. Dust rains down from the ceiling, and the air fills with a strange, metallic tang.
“What the hell—” I’m on my feet instantly, the deep, echoing crack of something splitting—wood, plaster, glass, I don’t even know—swallowing my voice. All I know is the house isn’t right.
Beside me, Galeana freezes. Her fork clatters to the plate, the sound sharp against the chaos. Her face goes pale, eyes wide, mouth parted in shock as she grips the counter like it’s the only thing holding her upright. “What—what’s happening?”
“I don’t know.” My voice comes out clipped as I grab her arm, pulling her off the stool and onto her feet. “We need to get out. Now.”
“But—”
“Now, Galeana.” I don’t mean to yell at her, but there’s no time to argue. Something just exploded, and I’ll be damned if we stick around to find out what’s next.
I grab her hand, threading my fingers tightly through hers, and tug her toward the back door, my mind running on pure instinct. Was it a gas leak? No. Gas leaks hiss, pop. This was something deeper. Different. A boom that rattled straight through to my bones and left my ears ringing.
Galeana stumbles slightly behind me, bare feet slapping against the tiles, but she doesn’t fight me. I push the back door open hard enough to slam it against the frame, and we spill out into the backyard, cool air rushing over us like a slap to the face.
“Ledger,” Galeana chokes, looking back over her shoulder. Her voice shakes, her words unsteady, and when I follow her gaze, I see it.
The flames.
It starts small—a flicker at the base of the kitchen window, barely noticeable in the dark—but then it grows, flames licking their way up the brick like greedy fingers. The glass panes splinter and fall, embers bursting outward like fireflies escaping a jar.
“Shit,” I mutter, turning to Galeana just as she sways. I catch her instinctively, pulling her into my arms. She’s trembling—fuck, maybe I am too—as we stand here, frozen, watching the building we’d been standing in seconds ago begin to burn.
“Ledger . . .” Her voice is small, almost childlike.
“Hey.” I pull her closer, shrugging out of my suit jacket and draping it over her shoulders. The material engulfs her instantly, and she grips it tightly with both hands. “You’re okay. We’re okay. I won’t let anything happen to you. I promise.”
Her face is pale in the glow of the fire, the flickering light catching on the glassy sheen of her eyes. She swallows hard, her voice barely above a whisper. “What happened?”
“I . . . I don’t know.” I glance back at the house, jaw locked as smoke starts to curl into the night sky. My gut twists—this isn’t an accident. I feel it deep down, that unshakable certainty I can’t explain. Before I can pull out my phone to call for help, the distant wail of sirens cuts through the night.
Thank God.
The fire trucks crest the hill like a cavalry, their flashing red and blue lights turning the mansion—and us—into something that belongs on a crime scene TV show. Firefighters pour out of the trucks, shouting orders, hauling hoses and equipment, ready to fight the blaze.
A second car pulls up behind them, the unmistakable gleam of a patrol car with sirens still blaring. The vehicle screeches to a halt, and before it even stops, the door flies open.
“Ledge.” Mal strides toward us, his face tight, pale, and looking older than I’ve seen it in years. His sheriff’s badge catches a glint of light as he takes in the scene, his voice sharp when he finally speaks. “What happened?”
“I don’t know,” I say, my voice low but steady—more for Galeana’s sake than anyone else. “We were in the kitchen. Something exploded. It shook the whole house. Once we were out we noticed the flames.”
Malerick’s gaze moves to the fire tearing through the mansion before returning to me. I see it on his face—the same suspicion that’s been gnawing at the back of my mind.
This isn’t normal.
I don’t know who or what did this, but as I glance at Galeana, wrapped up in my suit jacket and shaking like a leaf, one thing becomes very clear.
Whoever started this? They’re going to regret it.
“Was anyone else in there?” Mal asks.
“No,” Galeana responds. “Aiden left earlier with the captain of the team, and Tommy flew back to Denver this afternoon. It was just us.”
Malerick exhales a breath that sounds too shaky for my usually unshakable brother. “Good. Stay here. I’ll have the medics check you and we’ll figure out what happened.” He’s already moving toward the firefighters, barking orders and talking to one of the men from security.
Galeana shifts beside me, her arms still wrapped around herself. “Ledger,” she whispers, her voice trembling. “What if someone did this? What if?—”
I turn to her immediately, placing my hands on her shoulders and forcing her to meet my gaze. “Don’t go there, Gale. We don’t know anything yet.”
“But what if it wasn’t an accident?” Her voice cracks on the last word, and I feel something twist painfully in my chest.
“We’ll figure it out,” I promise, my voice softer now. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”
She stares up at me, her hazel eyes searching mine, like she’s looking for something to hold on to. After a moment, she nods faintly, though her shoulders are still shaking.
“Ledger,” Mal’s voice calls out again, sharper this time. I glance over to see him gesturing for me, his face grim. “I need to talk to you.”
“Stay here,” I murmur to Galeana, giving her shoulders a gentle squeeze before I let go. “I’ll be right back.”
Promptly, I reach Mal, who’s talking in low, urgent tones to one of the firefighters and one of the security guys who was at the wedding.
“What’s going on?” I ask, my voice clipped.
Mal glances at me, his expression hard. “They don’t think this was an accident.”
The words hit me like a gut punch, but I’m not surprised. This didn’t seem like just some weird accident.
“What do you mean?”
“Let’s just say that there’s proof that this wasn’t an accident,” he states.
“Just like that?” I don’t believe him.
He points toward the security guy. “He’s a former FBI agent like me. We’ve seen this before.”
I clench my fists at my sides, my jaw tightening. “Who would do this?”
“That’s what we’re going to figure out,” he replies. “But until then, you’re not staying in town. Do you still have your place in Seattle?”
I glance toward Galeana. She remains where I left her, staring at the house with wide, haunted eyes. I don’t know who did this. I don’t know why. But someone wanted her out of that house—or this town. What if it was about me though?
And the thought of anyone trying to hurt her—of anyone even thinking about hurting her—makes my blood run cold.
“Ledger, focus,” Malerick snaps. “You need to leave. Is your place in Seattle livable, or do I need to find somewhere for you?”
Before I can answer, another car pulls up—a sleek black truck that crunches to a stop on the gravel driveway. I know who it is before he even steps out. Hopper.
He climbs down from the cab, his boots hitting the ground with a solid thud, the man looking every bit the cowboy he’s become. His dark coat flaps in the wind as he strides toward us, his expression grim, a half-hearted attempt at calm not quite covering the concern etched on his face.
“Fuck,” he mutters, taking in the flames devouring what’s left of the house. Then he glances at me. “You okay?”
“We’re fine,” I say, my voice clipped.
Hopper doesn’t look convinced, his gaze flicking between me and Galeana, who’s still standing where I left her. “You can come to my ranch. I’ve got plenty of room. It’s quiet. Out of the way.”
It surprises me that Hop is offering his place. He’s pretty detached and never lets anyone close to his house—or his daughter. I barely get to see my niece because he doesn’t want the toxicity of the Timberbridges to get to her—or some crap like that.
“Thank you?—”
“No.” Malerick shakes his head, the tension radiating off him in waves. “They can’t stay at Mom’s place either. Not after this. That’s the first place anyone would look, and we don’t have time to sweep for risks.”
Hopper jumps back in, “The ranch?—”
“I said no.” Malerick’s voice is firm, resolute, as he looks at Hopper. “It’s too exposed. You don’t want to put your kid in danger, do you?”
“You’re exaggerating. Where the hell are you planning to send them?” Hopper demands, frustration creeping into his voice.
“Probably Seattle,” Malerick says, his tone brooking no argument. “This wasn’t an accident.”
“Are you sure?” I push because maybe he’s just paranoid.
“I am. Someone did this, and until I know who, you’re out of here,” he presses. “I can’t protect you if you’re standing in plain view.”
The flames crackle louder in the distance, casting long shadows that flicker across all of us. I glance at Galeana, her face pale, her lips pressed into a thin line like she’s barely holding herself together. My chest tightens at the sight of her—shaken, unsure—and before I can think, I’m at her side.
“Hey,” I say softly, keeping my voice calm as I step closer. My hands rest on her shoulders, gentle but firm, as I guide her into me. She doesn’t pull away, and I wrap my arms around her, holding her close as the fire blazes on in the background. Anger flares in my gut—someone caused this, and I won’t rest until I find out who.
“You can’t stay here,” Mal catches up with me. “I can get you back to your old place tonight.”
“Fine. We’ll go to Seattle,” I agree, unsure if I should trust his judgement. I mean, he’s just a sheriff. What does he know?
“Good. Gil will take you.” Malerick nods, but the tension in his face doesn’t ease, the lines between his brows deepening. “We’ll take care of her friend and make sure she arrives safely in Denver.”
I glance back at Hopper, his jaw tight, arms crossed like he’s bracing for an argument. “Thanks for the offer, Hop.”
His eyes soften just a fraction. “It’s there if you need it. Anytime.”
Before I can respond, a man strides over, motioning for us to follow. “This way,” he says, his tone brisk and businesslike. He leads us toward a truck, its engine rumbling faintly.
As we move, my arm instinctively tightens around Galeana. She’s silent, her steps unsteady, her body leaning into mine like she’s barely holding herself together. I can feel the tremor in her frame, and it hits me harder than I expect. This isn’t just exhaustion; this is fear, raw and heavy, settling deep in her bones.
“Everything is going to be okay,” I murmur, my voice soft but firm, dipping my head closer to hers. She doesn’t respond, doesn’t even look up, and the helplessness I feel claws at me. I press my hand gently to her back, guiding her forward, shielding her from everything around us—the fire, the noise, the crushing pressure of the current situation.
The uncertainty of everything.
As we reach the truck, I glance back briefly. Hopper and Malerick are still locked in a low argument, their voices blending with the distant wail of sirens and the crackle of flames. But I can’t focus on that. Not now.
I help Galeana into the truck, guiding her gently onto the seat before climbing in beside her. Once we’re settled, I wrap an arm around her, pulling her into a soft, reassuring hug, as if I could somehow ease the fear still gripping her. Whoever did this—whoever put that haunted look in her eyes—will regret it. That, I swear.
I don’t care what it costs me—her safety is the only thing that matters to me now.