Chapter 12
ETHAN
The rain tapped against the window, a steady rhythm that should’ve lulled me into sleep, but my mind churned too hard to let it.
What had happened in that shower with Natalie felt like a crack in the earth, something deep and uncharted breaking open inside me—something I’d convinced myself I’d never have, never deserved.
She lay curled beside me now, her breathing soft and even between storm calls, her head resting on my shoulder, damp hair fanning across the pillow. She’d drifted off after texting Owen about the latest rain bands, her body warm against mine, trusting in a way that twisted something in my chest.
I couldn’t sleep. My whole world had flipped upside down, and I was still trying to find my footing.
After leaving Montana, I’d become a nomad, drifting from one mission to the next, a life stitched together with orders and solitude.
My brothers—Levi, Jacob, Caleb, and the others—kept calling, inviting me back, their voices carrying the echo of the ranch and old memory.
But I always found an excuse, another deployment, another job, anything to keep moving.
To their credit, they let me be. They knew what Dad’s departure had done to me, how it had shattered the rock I’d been for them.
He’d left one winter, leaving us to fend for ourselves, and I’d stepped into the breach—fifteen years old, already taller than most, holding the family together with calloused hands and stubborn will.
Even rocks break, though, and I’d felt the cracks widen with each goodbye.
Now, with Natalie’s weight against me, memories surfaced—good ones, buried under years of grit.
Mom laughing as we boys tried to ride the old mare, her voice ringing out when Levi took a tumble, all knees and freckles, only to climb back on with a grin.
The first calf we roped together, a clumsy knot of rope and pride, Dad showing us how to tie a fly for the creek, his hands steady as he teased us for the mess.
Pancake mornings in the kitchen, batter splattered on the counters, all seven of us talking over each other, Mom dancing with a spatula while Dad hummed off-key.
The laughter had filled the room, a sound I hadn’t realized I missed, until now.
Suddenly, I wanted it back—wanted that warmth, that noise, that connection. But why? Was it because of Natalie? Because of what she’d unlocked in me, this longing for something I’d shut away?
I was almost dozing, the weight of those thoughts pulling me under, when a light knock at the front door jolted me awake. Natalie stirred but didn’t wake, her breath steady against my skin.
I eased out from under her, careful not to disturb her, and padded barefoot to the door, the hardwood cool beneath my feet.
Peeking through the peephole, I saw a man standing under a black umbrella, the rain sheeting off it in steady streams. He wore a gray suit, plain as could be—nothing flashy, nothing to catch the eye, the kind of outfit that let a man disappear into a crowd.
Why was that my first thought? The unease settled like a stone in my gut.
I opened the door, keeping the chain latched at first, taking him in. Mid-forties, maybe, with a face that didn’t linger in memory—brown hair damp, eyes unremarkable, posture relaxed but alert. The gray suit hung straight, no wrinkles, no flair, just function.
He nodded, his voice calm and measured. "Ethan. Dominion Hall needs you as soon as you can get there."
I unlatched the chain, stepping into the doorway, the rain brushing my bare shoulders. "Why didn’t they call?"
He shrugged, a casual lift of his shoulders, like it was beyond his concern. "Sometimes a personal invite is better."
The words sent a shiver down my spine, a cold thread weaving through the warmth of the house. Was Atlas having me watched? The thought gnawed at me, but I kept my face steady, my voice low. "Who are you?"
"Just the messenger," he said, turning to leave, the umbrella tilting against the rain. Then he paused, glancing back over his shoulder. "Ask about your brothers, Caleb and Jacob. They’re in town, too."
With that, he stepped off the porch, disappearing around the corner into the downpour, leaving me with more questions than answers.
My blood surged, a mix of anger and instinct kicking in. Caleb and Jacob—here?
I shut the door, locking it behind me, and turned back to the bedroom. Natalie was still asleep, her face peaceful in the dim light. I hated to wake her, but I couldn’t stay.
I knelt beside her, brushing a strand of hair from her cheek. "Natalie," I said softly, my voice rough with the shift. "I’ve got to go. Work needs me. I’ll be back—if you’ll have me."
Her eyes fluttered open, a sleepy smile curving her lips as she reached for me, pulling me close. "I’ll have you for dessert," she murmured, her voice laced with warmth and promise.
I tried to play along, leaning in to kiss her, but the spell was broken for me, the messenger’s words cutting through the intimacy like a blade. I returned her kiss, lingering a moment, then pulled back, gathering my clothes and boots with quick, deliberate movements.
"I’ll be back," I repeated, more to convince myself than her, and slipped out the door.
The rain hit hard as I ran to the truck, the coolness soaking through my shirt before I even reached the driver’s side.
I sped toward Dominion Hall, the wipers slashing at the deluge, traffic thinning as the storm drove people indoors.
The gates loomed ahead, and I jabbed at the keypad.
They opened too slowly for my liking, the delay fueling the fire in my chest. A staff member met me at the entrance, ushering me inside, my boots leaving wet prints on the polished floor as I dripped onto the stone.
Atlas walked into the room, his presence filling the space with that familiar weight. His brow furrowed slightly, a rare crack in his composure, but his greeting was kind. "Ethan. Good to see you. What brings you back so soon?"
I didn’t waste time, stepping closer, my voice low but edged with tension. "Have I been followed? What kind of bullshit is this?" The words spilled out, raw and direct, the anger I’d held in check boiling over.
He raised a hand, his expression shifting to calm, though his eyes sharpened. "Easy, Ethan. That’s not the case. No one here’s had you tailed."
"Then who sent that guy to Natalie Kennedy’s door?" I pressed, my fists clenching at my sides. "Gray suit, nondescript, could vanish in a crowd. Showed up, told me to come here, mentioned my brothers."
Atlas’s eyes went cold, a stillness settling over him that made me pause. I’d seen that look before—in men who’d faced worse than me, who calculated before they moved.
"No one from Dominion Hall sent him," he said, his voice steady but firm. "I’d have called if we needed you. What did he say, exactly?"
I recounted it, the details falling into place as I spoke—the greeting by name, the summons, the casual shrug about the personal invite, the mention of Caleb and Jacob.
Atlas listened, his face unreadable, but I could tell he was processing, turning it over in his mind.
When I finished, he didn’t speak at first, the silence stretching thin between us.
Finally, he exhaled, his voice low. "It’s time to meet the others."
"Others?" I asked, confusion cutting through my anger. "What others?"
"My brothers," he said, a nod accompanying the words, his breath releasing like he’d been holding it. "All six of them." I blinked, the number hitting me sideways. "You have six brothers, too?" I blurted, the words clumsy in my mouth.
He nodded again, a faint exhale escaping him, as if the weight of it had shifted. "Come on. This wasn’t how we wanted things to go, but it seems there’s a force at hand who very much wants every card flipped over on the table."
His gaze held mine, steady and serious, and the chapter hung there, poised on the edge of something I couldn’t yet see.