Chapter 4
Tristan
The valley looks clean this morning.
Another storm scrubbed away the mud, the footprints, the evidence—but not the feeling. The air still hums with leftover electricity, like the mountains remember what I did two nights ago.
From my office window, the ridge road glints in the sun, curling toward the Voss Estate. Somewhere up there, she’s moving through the vines again, stubborn and alive, pretending the world didn’t just try to warn her.
The mask didn’t scare her off like I hoped.
And now I feel restless, my mind turning over plans to get rid of her even as a part of me keeps returning to the way she stood in the rain: small, soaked, and furious. It shouldn’t do anything to me, but it does.
A knock breaks the silence. It’s barely a tap before Calder pushes the door open and strolls in, a thermos in one hand and a grin that’s a little too satisfied. He always knows when I’m off balance.
“Morning,” he says, setting the thermos on my desk. “Coffee. You look like someone who didn’t sleep.”
I don’t answer. He knows he’s right.
He drops into the chair across from me, long legs sprawling, sunlight catching the damp ends of his hair. “So… I met our neighbor.”
My head lifts. “What?”
“Raine Voss.” He says her name like he’s trying it out. “Stopped by to check on her after the storm. She’s got the place cleaned up already—impressive, really.”
A pulse of irritation sparks low in my chest. “You went up there?”
“Technically, I drove up the access road. She was outside.” He grins when he sees my expression. “Relax. I didn’t threaten her. I moved a tree branch and made polite conversation. You should try it sometime.”
“She doesn’t need your help.”
“She seemed to be in agreement with you.” He leans forward, his elbows on his knees. “She’s determined to reopen the vineyard? Weddings, tastings, all of it.”
“I know.”
“She’s serious, Tristan. You can’t scare her off.”
The way he says it makes something twist inside me. We’ll see about that.
“What did she say about me?”
Calder hesitates, studying me with that mix of curiosity and caution he’s had since we were kids. “That she’s not exactly popular with the eldest brother.”
I almost smile. “She’s not wrong.”
Calder laughs, but there’s an edge to it. “You don’t have to make her an enemy. Let her run her little business. We’ll keep ours.”
I turn back to the window. Sun slices across the Voss roof—sharp, impossible to ignore. For a second, I see her reflection in the glass of the porch, the way she squared her shoulders after the door slammed. I shouldn't be replaying it. I shouldn’t be impressed by her tenacity.
“That’s not how this works,” I say.
“Because Dad said so?” he snaps, irritation breaking through the easy charm. “You keep quoting rules from a man who’s not even here anymore.”
I face him, my voice quiet but final. “Because this valley stays balanced when we keep control. And she’s tipping it.”
Calder stands, shaking his head. “You ever think maybe it’s already unbalanced? You can’t bully everyone who disagrees with you.”
“I’m not bullying her.”
He gives a humorless laugh. “Then what do you call what you did the other night?”
The silence stretches between us. The low throb of the distillery hums around us—machinery, mash, the smell of charred oak—mundane things that should steady me.
Instead, my fingers still remember the weight of my old high-school hockey mask—the one I wore on the ridge as theater. I can still feel the rough scrape of plastic and the strip of duct tape where I’d reinforced the metal strap, the idea forming before I’d even realized what I was doing.
Finally, I say, “Handling a problem.”
Calder studies me for a long moment, then sighs. “She’s not scared, Tristan. She’s angry. And anger lasts longer.”
I stare at him, not saying a word.
She may not be scared yet… but I can change that.
He shakes his head before leaving, the door clicking softly shut behind him.
I stand there until his footsteps fade, then glance back out at the ridge. Sunlight flashes off the Voss roof again, that same sharp reflection I saw in the rain. The image of her—barefoot, flashlight trembling—slides behind my ribs and won’t leave.
It shouldn’t send a thrill through me, but it does. Heat crawls along the back of my neck just thinking about her defiance, about her bright, impossible stubbornness.
The more I try to ignore her, the louder the silence in this place gets.
I can’t decide if I want to drive her out of this valley—or keep her close enough that no one else ever will.