Chapter 49
A few days later, the pain has dulled into something manageable.
Not gone, but quieter. Like my body has accepted it isn’t dying anymore, even if it hasn’t forgiven what was done to it.
My arm is strapped tight against my side, wrapped and immobilized, the pull in my shoulder a constant reminder every time I move too fast. I hate it. The weakness. The slowness. But I hate the way Colter watches me flinch even more.
He’s been a constant presence the last few days, refusing to leave my side for any reason. Not that I hate it, but there are times I want some distance or not be waited on hand and foot. Or treated like a fragile doll.
Now, I’m sitting on the couch beside Colter, my good shoulder pressed into his arm. He hasn’t let more than an inch of space exist between us since I came downstairs. Like he is afraid something will grab me up in his own house. Across from us sit my father, Pace, and Colter’s father, Hudson.
It feels like a tribunal.
No one speaks at first.
There is a low hum outside of the house from the ranch hands. Somewhere in the house, a clock ticks. Normal sounds. Domestic sounds. They feel wrong in a room full of men who look like they’re deciding how much of the truth I’m allowed.
Pace is the first one I really look at.
My brother’s jaw is bruised yellow and purple, his knuckles split and still healing. He’s leaning forward, forearms braces on his knees, eyes fixed on the floor like if he looks at me too long, he might crack.
John…dad…looks like he’s aged in the last few days. His shoulders are slumped, hands clasped together so tightly his knuckles have gone white. This isn’t the man who barked orders at ranch hands or spoke to me like I was an inconvenience or a dark reminder of his past.
This is a man who almost lost his daughter.
Hudson Shaw sits back in his chair, posture relaxed but eyes sharp. He looks calm, as if he’s done this time and time again.
Colter shifts beside me, his thigh pressing more firmly against mine. A silent check-in.
I nod once.
“Okay,” I say, my voice steadier than I feel. “No more secrets. No more lies. You said there were things I need to know. So tell me the truth.”
That opens the door.
Hudson exhales first. “Once we start, there’s no undoing it.”
“I’m aware,” I reply. “I’ve been living with half-answers my entire life and no answers since I arrived here.”
My father flinches at that.
Pace finally looks up, his gaze landing on me like he’s afraid I’ll disappear again.
“Peyton…what happened to you wasn’t your fault.”
“I know,” I say gently. “But maybe it would have been different if you had prepared me. Been honest with me.”
Hudson nods once, approving. “She’s right.”
Silence stretches again before my father speaks.
“People slap a lot of names on us,” my father starts.
“Mob, Mafia, criminal empire. We don’t bother correcting them.
We simply call it the family. Because that is what we are.
Not everyone shares blood, and that the point.
Blood fails. Blood betrays. Family is chosen.
And once you’re in, loyalty is the only thing that matters.
“It isn’t that we didn’t trust you, although that was part of it at first. But we told ourselves it was protection. That keeping you in the dark was love because telling you the truth about Sadie, or what we believed to be the truth, would break your heart.”
His voice breaks on the last word.
“But Laurel…” Hudson takes over, his tone colder. “Laurel changed everything. In all my years as head of the family, I have never had betrayal come from so close to home. Not like this. She took her knowledge from growing up in an affluent family and weaponized it.”
My stomach tightens.
“She married into power when she married Richard,” Hudson continues. “But that wasn’t enough for her. She wanted more affluence. More power. Laurel wasn’t content with the richness she’d been given. She wanted more.”
I swallow hard.
“And my mother?” I ask.
My father’s jaw clenches. “I thought that everything that had happened was because of Sadie’s obsession with me. That she had been in love with me and when she couldn’t get what she wanted…she stepped over the edge. I never thought that she’d been pushed to it.”
Bile rises in my throat.
Hudson leans forward, his gaze focused on me.
“Your mother was a victim,” he tells me. “A victim of her sick mother. She was raised to be a pawn and when she tried to break free, Laurel made sure no one believed her.”
“Except you,” I whisper.
Hudson nods. “Sadie brought me as much proof as she could. Put herself at my mercy. Told me she was pregnant and that she wouldn’t bring you into the same world she’d been born into. She wanted to save you from having the same fate as her.”
Hudson’s words hang in the air, heavy and suffocating.
“She wanted out,” he continues. “Not for herself. For you.”
My chest tightens, something fragile cracking open beneath my ribs. I stare at my hands in my lap, one bandaged, one trembling, trying to reconcile the woman I remember with the one they’re describing.
“She hid the pregnancy as long as she could,” Hudson says. “When Laurel found out, she lost control. Sadie was never meant to get away.”
My father swallows hard. “I didn’t know. Not until Hudson revealed everything the day you were taken. Laurel made sure of that. She fed lies to everyone. About Sadie’s mental health. Saying she was unstable due to drug use.”
The room feels smaller. Hotter.
“All those years,” I whisper. “I thought she didn’t care enough to stay clean. But it was Henry. Every time we ran, he would find us and the cycle would start all over again.”
Hudson nods. “We confirmed that Henry was in debt to Laurel’s family,” he says.
“He owed them hundreds of thousands that he couldn’t pay back.
Without her help, they would have killed him.
She paid his debts and put him to use. He was her insurance policy.
Planted early. Trusted. He fed her information, handled the messes she didn’t want traced back to her. ”
My pulse stutters.
“He helped push your mother toward the edge,” Hudson continues. “Made sure she never felt safe enough wherever she was. He was supposed to gain access to the money I helped your mother take from Laurel. Money that was legally hers.
Colter’s jaw tightens beside me, a muscle ticking. His arms curves subtly behind my back, anchoring me.
“She tried,” my father says hoarsely. “She tried to get away. The night she died… she was trying to warn Hudson. Warn me.”
The words slam into me.
“She called me to come and get both of you. Told me that something was brewing. Said you were in danger. I’ve always known you existed, Peyton,” Hudson adds quietly.
“When we learned of Laurel’s betrayal, I had men go back to the apartment and search it again.
We found a small bag hidden. It had your name on it. ”
My vision blurs. I blink hard, refusing to let the tears fall. Not now. Not in front of all of them.
“Laurel told me she had her killed.”
“Yes,” Hudson answers without hesitation. “You were also supposed to die with her.”
A cold understanding settles in my gut.
“My mother sent me on an errand across the city,” I say flatly. “Because she knew Henry was coming.”
Silence crashes down.
I lean back into Colter, exhaustion pulling at my bones. His hand slides into mine, careful of my injuries, his thumb brushing a slow, steady rhythm against my skin.
“So where does that leave me?” I ask softly. “Not that Laurel is gone. Now that the truth is out.”
Hudson studies me for a long moment. “It leaves you with a choice.”
My pulse quickens.
“You can walk away,” he says. “Take protection. A new identity. Distance from all of this.”
Colter stiffens beside me, but he doesn’t interrupt.
“Or,” Hudson continues, “you can stay. Learn what it means to belong to this family. What it means to be a part of something bigger.”
I turn my head, meeting Colter’s gaze. We’d already discussed this. I’m his and he is mine. I squeeze his hand.
“I’m not going anywhere,” I say quietly. ‘But I am done being lied to.”
Hudson nods once. “Then we move forward.”
Pace exhales, relief softening his expression. He’s been quiet this entire time, listening. My father’s shoulder’s sag, like he’s been holding his breath for years.
Colter leans in, his forehead pressing briefly to mine. “You’re safe,” he murmurs. “I swear it.”
For the first time since everything shattered, I believe him.
Hudson is the first to stand, signaling the end of the conversation without ceremony. Pace follows a second later, then my father. The weight of the room doesn’t vanish, but it loosens, like a storm that’s passed, leaving everything soaked and raw in its wake.
Colter shifts beside me. “Easy,” he murmurs automatically when I brace my good arm on the couch.
“I’ve got it,” is say, even though the room tilts a little when I stand. My arm pulls, a sharp reminder of my limits, but I ignore it.
Pace freezes when he realizes what I’m doing.
“Peyton—” he starts.
I shake my head. “Just…come here.”
He hesitates, like he’s afraid I’ll break if he touches me. That hesitation hurts more than the stitches ever could. So I close the distance myself, stepping into him and wrapping my good arm around his middle.
He makes a sound, barely more than a breath, and then his arms are around me, careful but fierce, like he’s holding something priceless and fragile at the same time.
“I thought I lost you,” he mutters into my hair.
“I’m still here,” I whisper back. “You didn’t.”
He pulls back first, scrubbing at his face like he’s embarrassed by the emotions, but his eyes are glassy. “Don’t ever scare me like that again, little sister.”
A weak laugh escaped me. “Duly noted.”
Then I turn.
My father hasn’t moved. He’s standing there like he’s afraid if he does, I’ll vanish. His hands hang uselessly at his sides, uncertainty written all over his face.
I take a breath and step toward him.
He looks stunned when I stop in front of him.
For a heartbeat, neither of us moves.
Then I lean in, pressing my forehead briefly to his chest before wrapping my arm around him as best I can. He stiffens in shock, then exhales, a broken sound, and folds himself around me.
He smells like leather and dust and something familiar I never let myself name before.
“Dad,” I say quietly.
The word settles between us.
He sucks in a breath like it physically hurts, his grip tightening enough to say everything he can’t. His chin rests on the top of my head, his shoulders shaking once.
“I’m here,” he says hoarsely. “I’m not going anywhere.”
I nod against him. “I know.”
When I step back, his eyes are wet. He doesn’t try to hide it.
Pace clears his throat and heads for the door, Hudson following after him, giving Colter a single nod on the way out. The room empties, leaving only the quiet hum of the house and the steady presence at my side.
Colter is there immediately, hand at my lower back, guiding me gently back to the couch like he never doubted I’d need him.
I sit, exhausted but lighter.
He looks at me like I rewrote the world.
“You okay?” he asks softly.
I lean into him, resting my head against his shoulder.
“Yeah,” I say. “I think I finally am.”