Chapter 16
Caleb
I wake early the next morning, unable to sleep past dawn.
Jake decided to stay at Ella’s last night, giving me some much-needed space to think.
My leg feels better after a night’s rest, though the spot where Danny struck me is still tender.
I make coffee and sit on the porch, watching the sun rise over the snow-covered fields, my thoughts inevitably drifting to Lana.
The sound of vehicles approaching pulls me from my thoughts.
I check my watch—barely nine o’clock. Seems our meeting about the treasure is happening earlier than expected.
I stand, leaning against the porch railing as a small caravan pulls up: Jake’s truck in the lead, followed by an SUV I recognize from the lodge.
Jake steps out first, looking rested despite yesterday’s travel. Ella emerges from the passenger side, waving cheerfully while the back door flings open, and Nora jumps down. The SUV doors open, and I watch as Kane, Kori, Connor, and Mia climb out, stretching after the drive.
Then the driver’s door opens, and my heart nearly stops.
Lana steps out, and for a moment, I think I’m hallucinating. Her hair—previously blonde—is now a vibrant pink, catching the morning sunlight like some exotic tropical flower. The color should be ridiculous, but somehow, on her, it’s stunning. Bold. Unexpected. Perfectly her.
My mouth goes dry as she walks toward the house, dressed in tight jeans and a green sweater that makes her eyes seem even more vivid against her new hair color. She catches me staring and smiles, a hint of nervousness in the gesture that only makes it more endearing.
“Morning,” she calls, and I realize I’ve been frozen in place like an idiot.
“Morning,” I manage, my voice embarrassingly rough. I clear my throat. “Nice... hair.”
Her hand rises self-consciously to touch the pink strands. “Dye mishap. Don’t you hate it?”
“No,” I say, too quickly. “It suits you.”
Her smile widens, and something hot and urgent unfurls in my chest, spreading lower. I shift my stance, grateful for the porch railing that partially conceals my body’s immediate, enthusiastic response to her transformation.
“Coffee’s ready,” I call to the group, tearing my eyes away from her before I make a complete fool of myself. “Come on in.”
Everyone files into the house, a chaos of greetings and conversation filling the previously quiet space. I hang back, waiting for Lana.
“You okay?” she asks quietly as she passes me at the door.
“Fine,” I lie, knowing my voice betrays me. “Just... didn’t expect the entourage.”
“Kori insisted everyone come,” she explains, rolling her eyes affectionately. “Once I mentioned treasure, there was no stopping them.”
I follow her inside, keeping my eyes firmly above shoulder level and willing my body to behave.
The kitchen is crowded now—Jake pours coffee for everyone while Ella rummages through the fridge for breakfast fixings.
Kori and Kane lean against the counter, whispering something to each other while Mia and Connor occupy chairs at the table.
Nora is already outside again with Scout, his excited barks drifting through the open window.
“So,” Jake says, turning to me with raised eyebrows, “I think it’s time you told me what’s been going on while we were gone.”
All conversation stops as everyone turns toward me expectantly. I take a deep breath, catching Lana’s eye across the room. She gives me an encouraging nod.
“You might want to sit down for this,” I suggest, gesturing to the living room, where there’s more space. “It’s quite a story.”
Once everyone is settled—Jake and Ella on the couch, Kori and Kane in adjacent armchairs, Connor and Mia cross-legged on the floor—I begin.
Lana stands near the fireplace, occasionally adding details I miss as we recount everything: the mysterious notes, the ammunition box, Thomas Wolf’s journal, the gold samples, Margret and Danny’s involvement, and finally, the revelation about the mineral rights.
Jake’s expression grows increasingly stunned as we talk. By the time we finish, he’s running both hands through his hair, a gesture I recognize from childhood—his way of processing overwhelming information.
“Let me get this straight,” he says finally. “You’re telling me there are gold bars hidden on my property, possibly worth millions, and potentially billions more in mineral rights beneath the ground?”
“That’s the short version, yes,” I confirm.
“Jesus Christ,” he mutters, leaning back against the couch cushions. “And this Thomas Wolf—he was Margret’s grandfather?”
“Great-grandfather,” Lana corrects. “Her nephew Danny is the one who attacked me at the mill.”
Jake’s head snaps up at this. “He what?”
“He tried to use me as leverage against Caleb,” she explains, her hand unconsciously rising to her throat where bruises are faintly visible. “Scout intervened.”
Jake’s expression darkens. “And where is this Danny now?”
“In custody,” I assure him. “Multiple charges, including assault and illegal possession of explosives.”
“He was planning to blow up parts of your property to get to the gold,” Lana adds. “The police found dynamite in his truck.”
“This is insane,” Jake says, shaking his head. “Absolutely insane.”
Kane leans forward, his expression thoughtful. “The mineral rights are the real issue here. Gold bars you can dig up and be done with it. But copper deposits? That’s ongoing value—and ongoing complications.”
“If word gets out about this,” Connor adds, “every mining company in the country will be knocking on your door. Not to mention the government’s interest.”
“Which is why we need to move carefully,” I say. “Margret wants to honor her great-grandfather’s wishes—use the gold to benefit the community, preserve the historical aspects. But the mineral rights are a separate issue.”
Jake looks at me, a question in his eyes. “And what do you think we should do?”
I’m surprised by the question—by the implicit trust in his voice. “I think we need legal advice before making any decisions. And let's talk to Margret again, get the full story about Thomas Wolf and his intentions.”
Connor, who has been quietly listening until now, speaks up. “I can reach out to the MacGallan attorney. He also specializes in property rights and natural resources.”
“Thank you,” Jake says, squeezing Ella’s hand. “The sooner the better.”
“In the meantime,” I continue, “we should find the rest of the gold. According to the journal, there could be several more caches hidden around the property.”
“Treasure hunt?” Nora’s excited voice comes from the doorway where she stands with Scout, both of them covered in snow. “Can I help?”
Jake laughs despite himself. “Maybe, kiddo. But first, go shake off that snow before you drip all over the floor.”
As Nora disappears to comply, Jake turns back to me. “Show me the journal and the map. I want to see everything you’ve found.”
I retrieve the ammunition box from its hiding place and lay out its contents on the coffee table for everyone to examine. The room falls silent as Jake carefully turns the pages of the journal, reading Thomas Wolf’s words from over a century ago.
“This is incredible,” he murmurs. “A piece of history right here in our hands.”
“And potentially a lot more buried out there,” Lana adds, gesturing toward the window.
Jake looks up at me, then at her, his expression unreadable. “You two have certainly been busy while we were gone.”
“Just trying to keep things interesting,” I reply with a half-smile.
“Well, you succeeded.” He closes the journal carefully. “So, what’s the plan for today?”
“I thought we could check another set of coordinates,” I suggest. “Weather’s good, ground’s thawing enough to dig.”
“Count me in,” Kane says immediately, his eyes lighting with interest.
“Me too,” Kori adds, nudging her sister. “Lana’s been having all the fun without us.”
Lana rolls her eyes but smiles. “It wasn’t exactly ‘fun’ being strangled, but the rest had its moments.”
My gaze lingers on her longer than it should, remembering her in my arms after the nightmare, the way she felt pressed against me in the early morning light. When I look away, I catch Jake watching me with knowing eyes.
“Right,” he says, clapping his hands together. “Treasure hunting it is. But first, breakfast. I’m starving.”
As everyone moves toward the kitchen, Jake holds me back with a hand on my arm. “We’ll talk later,” he says quietly. “About all of this. And about Lana.”
I nod, not bothering to deny what he’s clearly figured out. “Later.”
Breakfast is a chaotic affair, with too many people in Jake’s modest kitchen.
I find myself constantly aware of Lana’s presence—the flash of pink hair in my peripheral vision, the sound of her laugh, the way she moves with easy grace through the crowded space.
Twice our hands brush as we reach for the same thing, and each time, a current runs through me that has nothing to do with static electricity.
After we eat, we divide into teams. Jake, Ella, and Nora will stay at the house to make a call to the historical society of Pinecrest and continue going through the journal for clues.
Kane, Kori, Connor, and Mia will take one set of coordinates to explore, while Lana and I take another.
I suspect Jake arranged it this way on purpose, but I’m not complaining.
“Ready?” Lana asks as we prepare to head out, loading shovels and the metal detector into the UTV.
“Ready,” I confirm, trying not to stare at the way her pink hair catches the sunlight.
She climbs into the passenger seat, and I settle behind the wheel, painfully aware of her proximity in the small vehicle. Our partner in crime, Scout, jumps in behind us, his tail wagging with excitement.
“So,” she says as we pull away from the house, “about dinner tonight...”
“Still on?” I ask, keeping my eyes on the snowy path ahead.
“Definitely,” she replies. “Though I’m not sure where we can go around here that won’t be full of people who know Jake or Ella.”
“I might have an idea about that,” I say, feeling a smile tug at my lips. “If you’re up for a surprise.”
She turns to look at me, curiosity bright in her green eyes. “I like surprises. Most of them, anyway.”
“This one will be good,” I promise. “At least, I hope so.”
The coordinates take us to the far edge of Jake’s property, near where it borders the provincial park. The area is heavily wooded, with rocky outcroppings breaking through the snow at irregular intervals.
“Wolf mentioned a ‘stone sentinel’ in his journal,” Lana says, consulting the notebook where she’s copied relevant passages. “Something about the ‘watchful eye of the stone guardian.’”
I scan the landscape, looking for anything that might match that description. “There,” I say finally, pointing to a tall, narrow rock formation that rises above the surrounding trees. From certain angles, it does look vaguely like a hooded figure.
We park the UTV and make our way toward the formation, Scout bounding ahead through the snow. The metal detector slung over my shoulder bounces against my back with each step.
“How’s your leg?” Lana asks, noticing my slight limp.