Chapter 40 Reid
Reid
Iroll my pen between my fingers, staring at the computer screen in front of me, a faint smile tugging at my mouth.
It almost feels too easy.
It’s all gone well. All the guests had been supportive of Amanda and willing to play their part. No one got hurt. More importantly, the cops didn’t find anything they could use to track her.
Now comes the hardest part… waiting until the designated time to contact her at the safe house. I wish I’d had something to give her—some kind of tracker, a panic button, anything that would let her reach me if something went wrong.
But out here, there’s nothing. No signal worth relying on, no clever gadgets, no safe way to stay in touch. Just distance and silence.
We wait for the rendezvous.
I exhale slowly, forcing the tension out of my shoulders. Worry won’t help her. It’ll just make the waiting harder.
Meantime, there’s plenty to do—getting the retreat back to something resembling normal after the police raid turned everything upside down.
Luke and I have been digging into Amanda’s husband, which has gone better than I could have hoped.
The deeper we looked, the more we found.
At this point, we’ve almost gathered enough to put him away for a long time.
With luck, Mayor Daniel Barnes won’t be in any position to hurt Amanda—or anyone else—ever again.
Then we can all have our happily ever after.
Because there’s something else, too. Something personal. Something so big I’m still trying to get my head around it.
It still doesn’t feel real.
For years—since I was a teenager—I’ve carried a secret. Hidden it. Feared what would happen if it ever came out. Feared judgment. Rejection. The weight of it has followed me everywhere, a constant reminder of what I did.
I killed my father.
I was just a boy when it happened, and I buried the truth along with him.
That’s the reality I’ve lived with.
And now, after telling my three closest friends, I find that the world didn’t end. After all those years of imagining the worst—what the law would do, what the people I care about would think—I was wrong about one thing.
They didn’t turn away from me.
If anything, it brought us closer.
But the first time I told someone… that was different. I wasn’t ready. Not even close. Instead of helping, it made everything worse. I ended up hurting the only person I’ve ever truly loved.
Sierra.
That morning when I’d woken up and realized I’d told her—drunk, careless, exposed—I wanted to disappear. I couldn’t face her. Couldn’t stand the thought of what she must see when she looked at me now.
The truth.
The image she had of me—the calm, controlled man—was gone. Replaced by what I really am.
A killer.
And there was no taking it back.
I wasn’t even afraid she’d go to the cops. That would have been easier. Better that than seeing disgust in her eyes, seeing myself reflected there as something monstrous.
I tried to run. Tried to leave before she woke up.
She didn’t let me.
She made me stay.
Then she talked.
She told me she didn’t judge me. Didn’t blame me. Didn’t see me as a murderer.
She said she was glad I told her.
I still can’t explain what that did to me.
I gave her the worst part of myself, and she took it without flinching. No interrogation. No accusations. Just quiet acceptance. A simple, “I won’t push you for details, but if you want to talk, I’m here.”
No one had ever given me that before, and coming from her…
I nearly broke right there. The relief hit so hard I could barely breathe.
And somehow, it made everything worse.
Because it left me with nowhere to hide from the truth.
I don’t deserve her.
Someone that kind. That steady. That good.
So, of course, I ran.
For her sake. The only way I could give her anything close to a normal life was to walk away completely—and stay gone.
So that’s what I did.
But telling Sierra was the hardest part. Nothing else will ever come close. Maybe that’s why it was so much easier the second time around.
Speaking of Sierra, I realize I have a Reiki session booked in with her at six today, and it’s coming up to six now. Good—I’ve been looking forward to this session all day.
But when I get to the Reiki treatment room, the room is dark and there’s no one there. Strange. I wait a few more minutes until five past the hour, reassuring myself that anyone can be late. It happens to the best of us.
But not Sierra. I honestly cannot remember her ever being late for anything during the whole time we’d been together.
Unsettled, I decide to check up her. I head to her room, and knock once before pushing the door open, expecting to find Sierra in bed, maybe even still asleep.
The bed is empty.
The sheets are twisted, tangled like they’ve been fought with, and there’s a note lying there, placed on top of the twisted sheets.
I unfold the note to reveal just a phone number.
My chest tightens. I grab my phone and dial, pressing it hard to my ear.
The phone rings at the other end. Once, twice, a third time before the line clicks as the person on the other end picks up.
“Ah. Reid,” a voice says smoothly. “We speak at last.”
“Who the fuck are you?”
A low chuckle. “You know who I am, and if you’re calling, it means you’re looking for your precious Sierra.”
My grip tightens.
“Well,” he continues, “she’s with me for now.”
Everything in me locks up for a split second. A sharp rush hits my head, my pulse spiking hard enough to make the room tilt—then I force it down.
This can’t be happening.
“Here’s the deal… give me back what belongs to me, and you can have Sierra back safe and sound.”
A pause.
Then, softer, darker.
“If not…”
His laugh is sinister, filled with menace.
“…she and I are going to have a little fun together, capiche?”