Chapter 6 Tristan
Tristan
I tell myself it isn’t surveillance.
It’s a safety check.
That’s the lie I choose as I idle on the ridge road, phone pressed to my ear, listening to the faint static of the open line.
Just making sure she’s all right after the storm.
Just making sure the access road’s clear.
Her voice cuts through the static. “Voss Estate.”
I don’t answer. The sound of it does something low and unwelcome in my chest. It’s too soft, too alive for this place.
Her voice comes again, a slight edge of something—fear, annoyance, or both—in it. “Hello?”
I breathe once, twice—then end the call before I make it worse.
The silence that follows is heavier than it should be.
When I look up, I can see her house through the trees. Sunlight pools against the roof like spilled gold. A shape moves across the porch. It’s Raine, her phone still in hand, scanning the valley.
Her dark blonde hair lashes in the wind like a flag, golden strands shimmering beneath the sun. She lifts a hand, shielding her eyes, her head turning slowly.
She’s searching for me, even though she doesn’t know it.
I climb inside, put the truck in gear, and let it roll forward until the bend hides her from view. The hum of the engine steadies my pulse, but only slightly.
By the time I reach the turnoff to the distillery, my hands ache from gripping the wheel. I tell myself again it was just a call, nothing more. People check on their neighbors all the time.
But I’ve never been good at pretending curiosity and control are the same thing.
Inside the warehouse, the sweet-burnt smell of mash hits me. Workers move like clockwork—hoses, barrels, copper stills gleaming under the lights. The noise should drown out the thoughts in my head, but it doesn’t.
Calder spots me from across the catwalk. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“Just thinking,” I say.
“That’s dangerous for you.” He grins, then frowns when I don’t return it. “You went up there again, didn’t you?”
“I didn’t stop,” I lie too easily.
He studies me for a beat, then shakes his head. “Whatever this thing is with Raine Voss, end it before it starts. She’s not one of us.”
“She’s not a problem,” I say, but even I can hear the hesitation in my voice.
Calder folds his arms. “You sure? Because the last time you decided someone wasn’t a problem, Dad had to buy half the valley to clean up after you.”
That old ache slides under my ribs. I look past him to the row of aging barrels, each stamped with the Blackwell crest. Control. Legacy. The illusion of order.
“I’ll handle it,” I say.
“Yeah,” he mutters. “That’s what worries me.”
He walks away, his boots echoing on the metal stairs.
When the door slams behind him, the air feels too still again.
Through the window, I can just make out the faint line of the ridge—her ridge.
A darker thought settles in, quiet but immovable. If she keeps pushing, I’ll have to push back.
And I’m not sure which of us will break first.
The sun bleeds out behind the mountains, leaving the valley caught between gold and shadow. I tell myself I’m only taking the long way home, checking for storm damage. But when the road curves toward the Voss property again, I slow down.
From this distance, the house looks peaceful—porch lights glowing, windows open to the evening air. She’s there, framed in one of them, blonde hair loose around her shoulders, head bent over a notebook.
I should keep driving.
Instead, I kill the headlights and sit there, watching her.
Every so often, she looks up, scanning the trees like she feels me out here. The thought twists something profound in my chest, part guilt, part satisfaction.
She’s adapting to the valley faster than I expected. The vines around her look alive again, green reaching toward her instead of away.
I tighten my grip on the wheel. “Careful, Raine,” I murmur. “You keep tempting the storm, it’ll start thinking you want it back.”
For a long moment, I stay there, the hum of the engine the only sound between us.
Then I put the truck in reverse, letting the night swallow the light as I back away.
The valley keeps its secrets well.
But tonight, one of them looks back.