Chapter 55
BLAKE
Pain arrives before consciousness. It throbs behind my forehead in slow, relentless pulses, each one sharper than the last. Something warm slides down my temple, slipping across my cheek before dripping onto my shoulder.
Blood.
My stomach rolls.
The last thing I remember is Grant's truck. His hand wrapped around the back of my neck.
Then darkness.
I force my eyes open. Firelight flickers across rough-hewn log walls, stretching long shadows across a wide plank floor. Somewhere nearby, wood pops inside a stone fireplace, filling the room with the scent of burning pine.
My vision swims. Nothing looks familiar.
Where am I?
My tongue tastes like copper, and my wrists ache. My spine lets out a small shiver, my coat gone.
When I try to move, metal digs into my skin. Confused, I twist as far as the cuffs will allow. Both wrists are locked together around a thick cedar support post in the middle of the room.
Panic claws its way into my throat. “No...”
The movement sends another wave of dizziness crashing over me. I squeeze my eyes shut until the room steadies again.
Across from me, boots scrape against the wooden floors. Someone stirs the fire.
Grant.
He crouches beside the hearth with his back to me, using an iron poker to shift burning logs deeper into the flames. Sparks swirl up the chimney while orange light dances across the shoulders of his heavy coat.
Without turning around, he says over his shoulder, “Morning, Jelly Bean.”
A shiver runs through me.
His voice is so normal.
Like, we’re meeting for lunch instead of…here.
I swallow hard.
Grant rises to his feet and faces me. His eyes linger on the blood running down the side of my face. “You hit your head pretty good.”
I narrow my eyes. “You slammed it into the dashboard.”
He shrugs. “You wouldn't stop fighting.”
“Fuck you.” My cheeks flame.
The corner of his mouth twitches. “There's the Blake I remember.”
I tug uselessly against the handcuffs. The steel bites into my wrists.
“You know,” I mutter, “this would've been a lot easier if you’d just asked me to coffee.”
Grant laughs. Actually laughs. “I missed your sense of humor.”
“I can't say the same.” My lips draw taut into a thin line.
Grant’s smile fades, looking over my face.
“Why me?”
Grant studies the fire for a long moment before answering. “Because none of this works without you.”
“I wasn’t even here.” My voice cracks with frustration. “I moved away. I had a happy life.”
He nods like my words don’t have a valid point. “I know.”
I lean toward him, the handcuffs burrowing into my wrists. “Then why drag me back?”
“You’re the missing piece.”
I frown. “What?”
Grant finally looks me in the eyes. “They would've kept their mouths shut forever.”
“Who?”
He smiles. “The three idiots who are coming to save you.”
My heartbeat slows as a chill works its way down my spine.
He's right.
Walker. Levi. Santiago.
Grant folds his hands together. “They'd have carried every single one of their secrets to the grave.”
“What does that have to do with me?”
He looks directly at me. “You're the only person whose opinion they care about.”
The realization lands like a stone in my stomach.
He never wanted me.
He wants...Them.
“What did you do?” I spit out.
“I think telling you what I didn’t do would take less time.” He laughs at his own joke like it’s the funniest thing he’s ever heard.
I angle my head. “The Evergreen Gazette?”
“Walker was taking too long to figure it out. Dragging his feet as always.” Grant rolls his eyes and mumbles, “Lazy ass.” He takes a deep breath. “I handed him the answer on a silver platter, and he still couldn’t figure it out.”
My lips part as I blink.
He really has planned it all out.
Something catches my eye. A length of black iron rests across the glowing logs. Not a poker exactly. One end disappears into the flames, and the other…
Ends in a symbol.
Even from where I'm sitting, I recognize the shape of the molten metal. FS for Falling Sky—the ranch brand.
Ice floods my veins. “What are you doing with that?”
Grant’s gaze follows mine. “Oh.” His smile widens. “You noticed.”
He turns slowly, taking his time as he reaches for the iron. The metal glows a deep orange. I can feel the heat radiating from the bright orange end from where I sit.
Instinctively, I press my back harder against the cedar post. “Grant...”
He walks toward me. “You know...” His voice is almost thoughtful. “I spent years watching those three dole this out to people they decided deserved it.”
He crouches in front of me, lifting the hem of my shirt.
“I figured it was only fair.”
My breathing quickens. “Fair?”
“You've chosen their side.”
Planting my feet on the floor, I push back into the column as hard as I can, but no matter how hard I try, I can’t get away.
“Wh—what’re you—”
Grant cuts me off. “You still don’t get it. I gave those guys every opportunity to collect the debts that were due. They didn’t take care of it, so I had to step in. Derek Holt, Reverend Ricks, Neil Redford. Each of those men was corrupt. Hypocrites.”
He’s the Debt Collector.
Grant’s jaw tightens. “So now...” He glances at the glowing iron, holding it in front of his face. “You get to carry their mark.”
He lowers the hot end to my stomach and presses in.
Every other discomfort I’m feeling right now fades into the background. My scream claws and scrapes at my throat on its way out.
The agony.
The familiar smell.
My eyes lock with Grant’s. They’re nothing short of pure glee.
When it pulls the brand away, the pain doesn’t leave. Acid wells up inside me, threatening to come out. It takes everything in me to swallow it down.
My nose drips as tears run down my face unobstructed.
Grant returns the poker to the fire as the sound of car doors slamming echoes through the thin walls.
“Ah. Here comes the cavalry now. Right on time.”
The front door crashes inward hard enough to rattle the windows. A blast of freezing mountain air rushes through the cabin, carrying snow and the smell of pine with it.
Three figures fill the doorway—Walker, Levi, Santiago.
They each have their guns trained on Grant.
For one impossible heartbeat, the world goes completely still.
They're here.
Relief hits me hard, stealing my breath, then dread takes its place just as quickly.
No.
My pulse spikes. “Don't...” I whisper before I can stop myself.
Every ounce of fear I’ve seen them hide over the past few weeks crashes across all three of their faces.
Levi goes pale. Santiago’s shoulders sag with visible relief before stiffening again. Walker doesn’t blink. His entire focus stays locked on me.
“Baby Girl.”
My throat tightens. “I’m okay,” I lie.
Grant laughs. “Your parents taught you better than that, Blake.” He levels a sneer toward my guys. “No, she isn’t.”
He presses the muzzle of the pistol that I didn’t realize he had against the side of my head.
All three men freeze.
“There we are,” Grant says pleasantly. “Now I have everyone’s attention.”
Santiago’s eyes drop to my exposed stomach first.
The hem of my shirt still hangs twisted above the fresh burn. The angry red skin is already swelling around the unmistakable Falling Sky brand.
His expression changes instantly. “No...”
It’s barely more than a breath before Levi’s gaze follows. Every bit of color drains from his face.
Walker looks last. His jaw locks. His eyes go flat.
I've never seen Walker look like this.
Not angry. Worse.
Controlled. Lethal.
Grant notices. “I thought she’d earned it.”
Santiago takes one step. Walker throws an arm across his chest without looking away from Grant. “Not yet.”
Grant grins. “Good.”
He wants them angry.
Grant reaches into his coat. For a terrifying second, I think he's reaching for another weapon. Instead, he pulls out an envelope.
He tosses it across the floor, and photographs scatter over the wide pine boards. My brows crease as I sit up to get a better look at the images.
Blood, bodies, Walker, Levi, Santiago.
They’re standing in this very cabin.
My stomach knots.
Grant gestures toward them. “Go ahead. Tell her.”
No one moves.
“I said,” His smile widens. “Tell her.” The gun pushes harder into my temple.
Walker slowly lowers his weapon a few inches. “They’re real. How did you get these?”
Grant lifts his brow. “How do you think?”
Walker’s eyes squint as he pieces the puzzle together. “You set the garage fires.”
“Ding! Ding! Ding!” Grant chuckles, putting on a show. “By George, I think he’s got it.” Grant pulls back on the hammer of his gun, returning his aim to my face. “Now the pictures. Tell her.” The excitement on his face sends a shiver down my spine.
Walker swallows, his gaze connects with mine. “We’ve killed more people than just your father.”
The thoughts swirling in my mind crash against each other as the room waits for my reaction. Even Grant waits, a wide smile splitting his face in two.
I look at the photographs again.
Then at Walker.
Then Levi.
And finally, Santiago.
One question slips out. “Were they hurting people?”
Walker answers first. “Yes.”
“Murder? Rape? Child predators?” I question further.
Levi nods, and I look at Santiago.
“They would’ve kept doing it?”
His voice is rough. “If we didn’t stop them.”
I flinch involuntarily. The thought of these people still roaming free makes me sick to my stomach.
But they’re not.
Because of them.
“Thank you,” I say with a dip of my head.
Grant’s smile falls from his face. “What?”
I narrow my eyes at Grant. “I thanked them,” I answer him condescendingly.
Spittle flies from Grant’s mouth. “They’re murderers!”
“They’re protectors.” I tighten my jaw.
“They lied to you!” Grant argues back.
I keep my voice even. “They protected people.”
Grant waves his arms wildly. “They’re monsters!”
My eyes turn cold and proud. “They’re mine.”
Grant actually takes a step backward. It seems nothing about this is going according to plan.
“Now it’s your turn, Grant.” Walker’s voice stays remarkably calm. “Tell her.”
Grant shakes his head. “No.”
Levi’s top lip pulls up on one side. “You brought us here for the truth.”
Grant's eyes narrow.
“Tell her why we stopped talking to you.” Walker doesn't move. “You owe her that.”
Grant laughs bitterly. “I don’t owe anybody a damn thing.”
Walker’s voice booms, reverberating off of the worn walls. “You owe the little girl you abandoned.”
The words land like a slap.
Grant’s face twists, and he loses control. “Fine!” He shoves the barrel of his pistol into my face. “You want the truth?” He laughs again. “I knew.”
Everything inside me stills, and I turn my head to look at him, his gun now trained on my forehead. “Knew what?”
He shrugs. “When you were little, I walked in one night.”
I stop breathing.
“I saw enough.”
Walker closes his eyes. Santiago’s nostrils flare out. Levi’s eyes glow with a deadly fire.
Grant keeps going. “I needed Landon. We were buying land together." He points toward the window. “That stupid fucking resort?”
My stomach drops. “Silver Pines?”
“That was our idea.” His breathing grows heavier. “Landon had the connections, the financing, the bank.”
Walker quietly finishes the sentence. “And you decided Blake wasn't worth losing the deal.”
Grant doesn't deny it. “You don't throw away millions of dollars because a kid gets hurt.”
“Is that why you killed Neil?” Levi questions.
“Neil, the reverend, Derek.” Grant holds out his arm, gesturing to the cabin. “Right in this very room.”
Walker blinks. “The cleaner smell.”
“Bingo!” Grant smiles widely. “Man, you’re on a roll.”
My mind is still stuck on his earlier statement.
A kid gets hurt.
The room disappears.
I don't hear anyone breathing anymore.
“You knew,” I breathe out, my eyes trained on the way the flames dance in the fireplace.
Grant shrugs. “Yeah, and I looked the other way.”
“You knew,” I repeat in a deeper tone.
“It wasn't my business,” Grant snaps back.
My vision blurs.
My fingers brush against my back pocket.
The tiny handcuff key.
Ever since Walker made it a habit of handcuffing me, I made it a habit to carry this around.
My pulse steadies as something inside my mind shifts irrevocably.
He knew.
He knew I was suffering. He knew my father was disgusting.
And he did nothing.
He watched me in my pain so he could turn a profit.
Grant keeps talking, still trying to justify himself and pretending he isn't every bit the monster Landon was.
I slip the key into the lock and turn.
Grant never hears the tiny click.