61. Cole
COLE
The problem with fear is that it loses value the moment people survive it.
Dead livestock should have been enough—a warning shot across Emma Hayes's bow. A reminder that the Circle H isn't isolated, no matter how much Jake Callahan wants to pretend otherwise.
Instead, all it accomplished was losing me money. Three mercs and the required equipment—three men who never checked in after the operation went sideways. Dead or captured, it hardly matters which. Either way, they're gone.
I stand in my office overlooking downtown Bozeman, a glass of bourbon in my hand that I haven't touched. The campaign posters on the wall behind my desk feel almost comical.
TURNER FOR MONTANA
Family. Freedom. Prosperity.
My cell phone vibrates. I take it out of my pocket and freeze.
Gabriel Reyes. The enforcer. Mateo Reyes's younger brother and the man who handles their problems when diplomacy fails.
I answer on the second ring.
"Gabriel." I lean back in my chair, injecting easy confidence into my voice. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"
A low chuckle crackles through the speaker—cold and humorless. "My brother wants an update."
Of course he does. Mateo Reyes doesn't make social calls, and he's only interested in one thing: the pipeline.
Not the one the public thinks I'm talking about when I stand behind podiums and discuss infrastructure, but the real one—the corridor running north through Montana that I've been constructing for them to move product through Texas, up through Wyoming, into Montana, and across the border, clean and untraceable.
At least, that's what I promised. It’ll be done once I have the Circle H.
"The access route is taking longer than anticipated," I tell him.
Gabriel's laugh is dangerous. "Yes, we can see that. But that's not what Mateo asked."
My grip tightens around the glass. "What did he ask?"
"Mateo asked when it will be finished," Gabriel says, his voice dropping lower. "Not if. When."
I have to clear my throat. "The Hayes property has become complicated."
"Complicated," Gabriel repeats. He makes the word sound like a death sentence.
"Emma Hayes refuses to sell. Callahan has turned the place into a fortress."
"So remove Callahan."
What a short-sighted solution. I have a former Delta Force operator with two equally dangerous friends and a private ranch full of cameras, sensors, and enough firepower to start a small war. But I can't say that to Gabriel.
"The situation requires finesse," I reply, getting annoyed.
Gabriel's laugh is sharp this time. "Shooting animals isn't finesse, Cole. And neither is hiring incompetent contractors who get themselves killed or captured."
My jaw tightens. So they already know about the snipers. Of course they do—the Reyes family always knows everything. "It was intended as a message."
"And was it received?"
I want to tell him to fuck off—we wouldn’t be having this conversation if it was received. He knows Emma didn't run and that Jake didn't fold. If anything, they dug in deeper.
Gabriel sighs—a sound that makes my blood run cold. "My brother is a patient man, Cole, but patience isn't infinite. You have thirty days to deliver what you promised."
"I'll handle it," I say.
"You'd better." Gabriel's voice drops to something almost conversational, which somehow makes it worse. "Because if you don't, Mateo will send me to handle it personally. And Cole? I don't just handle the property acquisition. I handle everything."
The line goes dead.
My hand is shaking.
I set the phone on the desk and stare at the bourbon in my other hand. The glass trembles, amber liquid sloshing against the sides.
I drain it in one swallow and immediately pour another. The burn steadies me, but only barely.
Thirty days.
I do the math. Emma won't sell in thirty days—she's made that clear. Callahan won't break in thirty days. He's Delta Force; breaking isn't in his vocabulary. So what does Mateo expect to happen on day thirty-one?
Gabriel arrives. That's what happens.
And when Gabriel arrives, it won't be to negotiate. It'll be to eliminate the problem. All of it. Including me.
I take another drink, listing every problem I have on my mental balance sheet.
Harper Garrett. I thought she could be leverage—the deputy sheriff, connected to Blackthorn, sleeping with one of Callahan's men. She’s quit her job and moved into the ranch. That has to work in my favor.
Circle H. The final piece I promised the Reyes family. The piece I can't deliver because Emma and Jake Callahan stand in my way. It’s not only infringing on my deal with Mateo Reyes—it’s making it harder to move my own product through the country.
That’s in part to Mandy Reed. That bitch is still out there, disrupting my supply chain. My men can't find her—I don't even know what name she's using now. She knows my operation inside and out—every route, every contact, every weakness. She's a ghost with a grudge, and I can't stop her.
I should sic Gabriel on her. He’d find her. No one can hide from Gabriel Reyes.
Not even me.
I set the glass down and stare out at the mountains, my reflection ghostly in the window. I’m going to get this done.
Fear failed. Money failed. Intimidation failed. So what's left?
Direct assault.
Hit Blackthorn hard enough that they can't recover. Burn it to the ground if I have to. Force Callahan to choose between protecting his people and protecting Emma's land. Make him understand that the only way anyone survives is if Emma sells.
Or take a hostage. Someone they can't afford to lose. Emma herself, maybe. Pregnant and vulnerable. Callahan would trade anything for her safety—including Circle H.
The thought settles over me like ice water.
I'm not playing for victory anymore. I'm playing for survival.
People like Jake Callahan make one critical mistake: they think they can protect everyone. But no one can protect everyone—not forever. Eventually, something breaks. And when it does, I'll be there to decide which pieces still matter.
I pick up the bourbon bottle and pour a third glass. Or I'll be dead.