Chapter 7 #2
He led her toward the back of the house, one hand on her shoulder, the shotgun gripped in his other hand.
Raven's mind raced, searching for any other way out of this, searching desperately for some argument, some magic words that would change his mind.
But she knew Uncle Martin too well. Once he'd set his course, nothing could sway him.
He was stubborn as Texas dirt, her father used to say.
Stubborn enough to stare down death itself if he thought it was the right thing to do.
Jesse was waiting by the back door, and Raven's breath caught at the sight of him.
His face was a mess of bruises in the faint porch light.
One eye was swollen and blood crusted at the corner of his mouth.
He moved stiffly, like every breath hurt, but his gaze was clear and focused when it met hers.
"Raven," he said, his voice rough. "We need to go. Now."
"She's packed," Uncle Martin said, handing over her go-bag and an envelope to him. "Jesse, there's enough cash for you to disappear if you need to. You get her to that plane, you hear me? Don't stop, don't look back, just drive."
"Yes sir." Jesse nodded once, then reached for Raven's arm.
She jerked away, stepping toward her uncle.
"No. You can’t make me leave without you.
” The words came out in a sob as panic clawed up her throat.
They were treating her like cargo to be shipped away while everything she'd fought for burned, while Uncle Martin stayed behind to face whatever had left Jesse looking like he'd been thrown from a horse and trampled.
"Raven." Uncle Martin's voice was soft but firm. He yanked her into a fierce hug, and she clung to him, breathing in the familiar smell of Old Spice and the ranch. The smell of home, of safety, of everything she was about to lose. "I love you, baby girl. Don't you ever forget that."
"Please don't do this," she choked out, her fingers digging into his shirt. "Please. Uncle Martin, please...”
He held her tighter for just a moment, and she felt his chest hitch like he was fighting back tears.
"You're strong, Raven Mae. Stronger than you know.
And you're gonna survive this. You're gonna have the life your parents wanted for you.
" His eyes were wet when he pulled back to look at her.
"The one I want for you. Now go. Jesse, take her. "
"No! No, I won't leave you!”
Jesse's hand closed on her arm, gentle but unyielding. "Raven, we're out of time."
"Let go of me!" She tried to pull free, but Jesse's grip only tightened. She looked at her uncle, desperate. "Uncle Martin! Please! Don't make me go! Please!"
He turned away, wouldn't look at her. It made everything worse. She could see his shoulders shaking, could see the way his hand trembled as he gripped the shotgun. But he didn't turn around, didn't change his mind. "Get her out of here, Jesse. Now."
"No!" Raven fought as Jesse dragged her out the door, his other arm coming around her waist. "Stop! Let me go! Uncle Martin!"
But even injured, Jesse was strong. He carried her into the cool night air, her go-bag clutched in his other hand. The stars were bright overhead. It was the kind of clear Hill Country night that usually made her feel peaceful. Now they just looked cold and distant and uncaring.
She could hear it now—more engines in the distance, getting closer. Multiple vehicles, coming fast down the county road.
"No!" The scream tore from her throat, raw and desperate. She thrashed against Jesse's hold, trying to break free, to run back inside. Her boots scraped against the gravel, finding no purchase. "Uncle Martin! Please!"
Through the open door, she saw him standing in the kitchen, the shotgun in his hands, his back straight and his jaw set. He still wouldn't glance her way. She wanted him to turn around, wanted one last look at his face, wanted him to see what this was doing to her.
But maybe that's exactly why he wouldn't turn. Maybe seeing her face would break whatever resolve was holding him together.
Jesse moved faster now, practically carrying her like a sack under his arm as she kicked and struggled.
She managed to get her feet under her and dug her heels in, but the gravel just shifted under her boots.
She could see his truck parked by the barn, as well as the headlights now cresting the rise in the driveway.
Three SUVs, all black, all heading straight for the house.
"Let me go!" She managed to get one arm free and swung wildly, catching Jesse in the ribs. He grunted but didn't release her, just adjusted his grip and kept moving. "Please! I can't leave him! I can't...”
"He's dead," Jesse said roughly, dragging her toward the driver's side of his truck. "And if we don't move right now, we will be too."
The first SUV slid to a stop in front of the house, and Raven saw Bo Hollister step out, silhouetted against the porch lights. Even from this distance, even in her panic, she recognized the predatory grace in his movements, the casual violence he carried like a second skin.
"No! No, please!" She thrashed harder, trying to break free, but Jesse yanked open the driver's door with his free hand.
She looked back at the house one more time. Uncle Martin was still visible through the window, a solid shape in the lighted room, weapon ready. Waiting. He looked calm, resolved, like he was standing guard over something precious instead of preparing to die.
The sob that tore from her throat was raw and ragged.
Jesse seized the opening, hauling her up and shoving her across the bench seat toward the passenger side.
She scrambled for the door handle, but he was already climbing in beside her, slamming the locks down before her fingers could find the latch.
"You’re uncle is right," he said, and she could hear the genuine regret in his voice. "This is the only way, Raven."
She tried to climb over him, to get out before he could trap her inside, but he wrestled her back across the seat. Her go-bag landed on the floorboard with a thud. His hand shot out and grabbed the seatbelt, yanking it across her body and clicking it into place before she could stop him.
"Let me out!" She tore at the seatbelt, nails scraping against the buckle. The engine roared. Then the first gunshot cracked through the night, and Jesse slammed the truck into gear, gravel spraying as they rocketed away from the barn.
"No!" Raven twisted in her seat, looking back at the house, at the lights, at the dark shapes of Bo's men spreading out like wolves closing in for the kill.
Another gunshot. Then another. The sounds echoed across the pasture, each one driving itself into her chest like a nail.
"Stop the truck!" She pounded on the dashboard, on Jesse's arm, anywhere she could reach. "Stop! We have to go back! We have to..."
"I can't." Jesse's voice was tight, his hands white-knuckled on the steering wheel as he pushed the truck faster. "I made him a promise, Raven. He made me swear I'd get you out."
More gunfire erupted behind them, a staccato burst that made her flinch. She couldn't tell if it was coming from the house or hitting it. Couldn't tell if Uncle Martin was still alive, still fighting, or if—
She couldn't finish the thought.
The truck hit the highway, tires squealing as Jesse took the turn too fast. Raven kept her eyes on the rearview mirror, watching the lights of the ranch grow smaller and smaller, watching the home where she'd lived for seven years disappear into the darkness.
The gunfire had stopped.
The silence chased them down the highway like a wraith in the night.
She pressed her forehead against the cold window and finally let the tears come.
She couldn't catch her breath between sobs.
Her ribs hurt. Her throat burned. Jesse didn't try to comfort her, didn't say anything at all.
He just drove, pushing the truck faster, putting miles between them and the ranch. Between them and Uncle Martin.
Between her and everything she'd ever loved.
"He's dead," she whispered against the glass. The words tasted like ash. "He's dead and you made me just leave him there."
Jesse said nothing for a long moment. Then, quietly: "You didn't have a choice."
"I should have fought harder. I should have..."
"He knew what he was doing."
Raven closed her eyes, but that made it worse. Behind her eyelids, she saw Uncle Martin standing in that kitchen, waiting. Saw his shoulders straight, his grip steady, his face calm. Always protecting her. Always standing between her and anything that might hurt her.
"I could have said no when you offered me those documents. I could have walked away."
Jesse was quiet for a moment. "None of that matters now."
The highway stretched out before them, empty and dark. The speedometer climbed—eighty, ninety, one hundred—and Raven pulled at the seatbelt until her hands ached.
It wouldn't give.
They drove in silence for what felt like an eternity but couldn’t have been long at all. In the distance, she saw lights. The airport. The plane. Uncle Robert and a life she didn't want with a man she'd never met.
Jesse saw them, too. His jaw tightened, and he pressed harder on the gas.
There was no going back now.