Chapter 30
Chapter Thirty
Ledger
I’ve made it my mission to distract Galeana by sharing with her the places I love in Washington. Like Luna Harbor. The trip to this small town feels like stolen time, a small pause in the whirlwind that’s been our lives. So delicate, so impossible to hold—a distraction that’s as temporary as it is necessary.
Gale and I stroll through streets that could belong to a postcard, with their eclectic boutiques and cafés spilling over with charm. The salty breeze carries the faint sound of laughter and the smell of fresh bread from a nearby bakery, wrapping the town in a deceptive sense of normalcy.
We climb the steps to the lighthouse, its worn walls whispering tales of resilience, and then wander along the waterfront trail where the horizon seems endless, untouchable. It’s easy to pretend here. Easy to let the sun warm our skin and imagine that this is just another day in a life we built together, instead of one we’re still struggling to figure out.
At a quaint little bookstore, I sink into a worn leather armchair, a cup of coffee cradled in my hands. Across the room, Gale drifts through the shelves, her fingers grazing book spines like she’s uncovering hidden treasures. Her face lights up with every discovery, her eyes sparkling with quiet delight.
I tell myself I’m just watching her, but it’s more than that—I’m absorbing her. The tilt of her head, the way her lips curl into that soft, unguarded smile when she finds something she loves—it’s so ordinary, so achingly her, that it grips me in a way I can’t explain.
It’s beautiful. It’s maddening. And it digs into me, deeper than I’m ready to admit. Because moments like this—her being so alive, so unburdened—are what I want to give her every day. But right now, I can’t. And that truth lands harder than I’d like as I take another sip of coffee, pretending the bitterness is all I taste.
This should’ve been our honeymoon. This moment—her radiant in the light of the store window, me pretending I don’t want to touch her every second we’re together—should’ve been wrapped in the kind of blissful certainty that comes with forever. Instead, it’s a stopgap, a pause in a life that feels permanently off balance.
I promised her we’d plan the best trip—the ultimate honeymoon—someday. But someday feels like a lie you tell yourself to ease the sting of now. And now, this small, fragile moment in Luna Harbor, is all I have to offer her. I want it to be enough. God, I want it to be everything. But I don’t know if it ever can be.
We spot a shop as we wander back from the lighthouse, its whitewashed walls and blue shutters looking like something out of a storybook. A hand-painted sign swings gently in the breeze: Nydia’s Haven—Lavender Goods & More. It’s close to the clinic and Too Far from a Bar. Which is actually the place I visit when I’m in Luna Harbor. They have un-plugged concerts on weekends and my teammates and I used to come when we had time and there was a good band.
Gale stops in her tracks, her eyes lighting up like she’s just found a treasure. “Lavender,” she says, almost reverently. “We have to go in.”
“Do we?” But I don’t think she pays attention to my question, since she’s already heading for the door, leaving me no choice but to follow.
The second we step inside, the scent wraps around us—a mix of lavender, citrus, and something warm, like cedar. The shop feels alive, filled with neatly arranged shelves of essential oils, sachets, and soaps, each labeled with a touch of whimsy. It’s both charming and overwhelming, like stepping into a world that runs entirely on calm vibes.
Before we can take another step, a woman appears from behind a curtain that separates the shop from what must be the back room. She’s petite, her dark hair tied back in a loose braid, and she wears an apron with lavender-colored flowers. Her smile could light the whole town.
“Hello there,” she says, clapping her hands together. “I’m Nydia. I don’t think I’ve seen you two before—first time visiting?”
“Yes,” Gale says, already enchanted. “I couldn’t resist.”
“Well, come on in. Let me show you around,” Nydia says, as if we’ve known her for years. “This is my little corner of Luna Harbor. Everything here is made with lavender from my farm just up the hill.”
She launches into a tour of the shop, her enthusiasm is contagious. She explains the benefits of lavender oil with the passion of a scientist and talks about her hand-poured candles like they’re children she raised herself. Gale listens intently, asking questions, while I mostly watch them, caught between amusement and quiet awe.
When Gale picks up a small sachet and inhales deeply, Nydia nods approvingly. “That one’s my personal favorite. Keep it in your pillowcase—sweet dreams guaranteed. And if not, you can send me an angry letter.”
By the time we’re ready to leave, we’ve been sent off with a bag bursting at the seams—candles, oils, sachets, and probably a year’s supply of lavender-infused candy. Nydia presses a handwritten card into Gale’s hand as we head for the door.
“In case you run out or just want to say hi,” she says with a wink. “And don’t be strangers. Next time, come by the farm. We’ll make it a proper visit.”
As we step outside, Gale turns to me, clutching the bag like it’s a trophy. “She might be my new favorite person.”
“She just gave us more lavender than we’ll ever know what to do with,” I say, shaking my head, but even I can’t keep the smile off my face. “It was like visiting a long-lost cousin you didn’t know you had.”
“Exactly,” Gale says, linking her arm through mine. “I already can’t wait to come back.”
By the time we’re back at my place, the sun’s dipping low, painting the horizon in shades of gold and pink. Gale is smiling, her cheeks slightly flushed from the cool breeze, and for a moment, I let myself believe that everything is fine. That we can stay like this.
But I know better.
We bring takeout from the burger place down the street. After dinner, the conversation shifts. It’s inevitable.
“We need to call Mal,” I say, leaning back against the kitchen counter, my arms crossed. Gale sits at the table, her expression unreadable as she traces the rim of her glass with her finger.
“I know,” she replies quietly. “We have to know what happened. Do you think he’ll send our call to voicemail . . . again?”
He’s been avoiding us the same way we’ve been avoiding it. That’s exactly what we’ve been doing. But the explosion, the mansion, everything we left behind in Birchwood Springs—it’s not going to disappear just because we’ve escaped for a few days.
I grab my phone, my thumb hovering over Malerick’s name as if pressing dial might detonate something neither of us is ready for. The tension between Gale and me is thick, the kind that comes from knowing this call might change everything.
“You ready?” I ask, my voice quieter than I mean it to be.
She meets my gaze, her eyes steady, though I catch the flicker of unease just beneath the surface. “As ready as I’ll ever be,” she says, and something in her tone twists in my chest.
I hit the button, the ringing loud in the silence between us. Once. Twice.
“Ledger,” Malerick answers, his voice low and clipped.
I waste no time. “We need answers, Mal. What the hell is going on?”
There’s a pause, just long enough to send a ripple of doubt through me, and then he speaks. “First, tell me—are you both safe?”
Safe? The word feels meaningless now, even with the two bodyguards trailing us everywhere, blending into the background but never really out of sight. I glance at Gale, her expression calm on the surface but with a tension in her eyes that mirrors the knot tightening in my stomach.
“Define safe,” I say. “Because it sure as hell doesn’t feel like we are.”
Mal exhales audibly, the sound setting my nerves on edge. “We need to talk.”
I let out a short, humorless laugh, the sarcasm practically dripping off me. “Ya think? Because I figured we’d just keep playing house while dodging explosions. Talking sounds like such a novel idea.”
Mal doesn’t waste time. “Listen, I’m just a small-town cop now. We had to bring in an expert who said the explosion wasn’t meant to kill you. It’s probably a message. A warning.”
Gale stiffens beside me, and I reach out, resting a hand on her knee.
“A warning from who and to who?” I ask, though I already feel like I’m bracing for impact.
“They mentioned the Hollow Syndicate,” Mal replies, his tone grim and final.
I glance at Gale, who looks just as confused as I feel. “The who now?” I ask, my voice edged with frustration.
Mal exhales, and I can almost see him running a hand over his jaw on the other end of the line. “From what I’ve learned, it’s a criminal organization,” he begins, his tone low and deliberate, like he’s preparing to drop a bomb. “They’re not your run-of-the-mill group of thugs. These guys are calculated, connected, and relentless. They specialize in taking over small towns and rural areas—places people don’t usually associate with organized crime. Drugs, trafficking, money laundering . . . you name it.”
Gale shifts in her seat, her face pale but intent. “Taking over how?” she asks.
“They start with businesses,” Mal continues. “They look for properties, companies, or assets they can exploit—laundering money, smuggling goods. Birchwood Springs is prime real estate for them. Close to major ports, right along the northern border for access to Canada—it’s the perfect location for their operations.”
I grit my teeth, the puzzle pieces starting to fall into place. “And Maple Haven is part of their plan?”
“Exactly,” Mal says. “Maple Haven and Old Birchwood Timber. They aren’t just companies. They’re institutions in Birchwood Springs. Owning them would give them control over a significant piece of the town’s history and influence, not to mention the land itself. They’ve been trying to acquire it legally for a while, but when the marriage transferred the assets to Gale, they lost their easy way in.”
“And now they’re trying to scare her into giving it up,” I say, anger boiling in my chest.
“Right,” Mal confirms. “The explosion was their opening move. It wasn’t meant to kill anyone—it was a message. They’re telling you this isn’t safe, give us the company. They’ll probably offer her money next so she can leave as soon as possible. If intimidation doesn’t work, they’ll escalate.”
Gale’s voice shakes as she asks, “And what happens if I sell. If they get what they want?”
“They settle in,” Mal says darkly. “Once they have a foothold, they expand. They take over more businesses, bleed the town dry, and use it as a hub for their illegal operations. And the worst part? They do it quietly. By the time people realize what’s happening, it’s too late. The town’s already theirs.”
I grip the edge of the counter, my knuckles turning white. “So what do we do?”
Mal’s voice hardens. “We don’t let them win. We make sure Gale keeps Maple Haven. We show them they picked the wrong people to mess with. But we have to be smart about this. The Hollow Syndicate isn’t just dangerous—they’re patient. They’ll keep pushing until they think they’ve broken her.”
The room feels colder, every word Mal speaks is like a ghost curling through the air, chilling everything it touches. I glance at Gale, her spine straight despite the fear flickering in her eyes. There’s strength in her, even now, but I can see the cracks forming, and it lights something savage in me.
They won’t break us. Not as long as I’m alive to stop them.
“Why now? Why would they escalate? How can I show them they can’t take away what’s mine?”
Mal doesn’t miss a beat. “Once the old man died, they lost their leverage. They tried to take it the easy way—legally. We believe Erick Stinson was their man on the inside, working to secure Maple Haven for them. When that didn’t work, they decided to scare you into selling.” He pauses, his voice turning grim. “They’re betting you’ll cave.”
Gale’s jaw tightens, her resolve clear even through her fear. “Can you ask Stinson about it? Maybe?—”
“I wish I could,” Mal interrupts, his tone sharp with finality. “But we found him dead two days ago.”
The words land like a sledgehammer, stealing the air from the room. Gale sucks in a breath, her hand flying to her mouth.
“Dead?” I ask, my voice low and hard, though it feels like it’s coming from someone else.
“Dead,” Mal confirms. “Shot execution-style. It wasn’t subtle, Ledger.”
The silence that follows is suffocating, pressing down like a weight I can’t shake. I glance at Gale, her hand trembling slightly as it drops from her face, but her eyes burn with a mix of fear and defiance.
“They’re not just coming for the company, are they?” Gale’s voice is quiet, almost too soft to hear, but there’s an edge to it—a steel beneath the fear.
“No,” Mal replies over the phone, his tone grim. “They’re probably coming for everything. Once they secure Maple Haven, it’s Old Birchwood Timber next. This isn’t just about property, it’s about control. And if they’ve got someone on the inside to take over the timber company—someone like Stinson—they won’t hesitate to take them out if they fail.”
The enormity of it all crashes down on me, settling like lead in my gut. This isn’t just some land grab. It’s a war. A calculated, methodical destruction. It sounds like the Hollow Syndicate doesn’t leave loose ends—they burn everything in their path and rebuild on the ashes.
And if they have someone like Stinson in their pocket now . . .
It could be one of us.
Not Mal. Definitely not me. But Keir? Hopper? Fuck.
“Do you think fucking Atlas is helping them?” I ask, my voice hard enough to snap through the phone.
I wouldn’t put it past him. He’s an asshole who hates us and the bastard isn’t even attached to Mom’s heritage. It has to be him. That’s why he insists on selling the company. He needs the money.
“We’re looking into everyone ,” Mal replies, his words cold and cutting.
“Even Keir?” I press, the thought twisting something deep inside me. Mal trusts Keir more than anyone. If even he’s under suspicion, it means the walls are closing in faster than I thought.
“Everyone,” he repeats, his tone like steel. “But I don’t think Stinson knew what he was getting into. He was greedy, not stupid. Whoever they have now—it’s someone who’s been promised so much money they’d sell their soul, and maybe us along with it.”
“Well, I can promise you it’s not me,” I mutter, gripping the phone so tightly it feels like it might crack. “But look into Atlas.”
“I know it’s not you,” Mal says without hesitation.
“How?” I ask and don’t wait for an answer. “Did you fucking look into me? You believed I could’ve been the one?”
He sighs, the sound crackling through the line. “Listen, Ledge, this isn’t about your feelings. I’m doing everything I can to keep my family alive. As sheriff, my hands are tied, but I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you all safe.”
“Umm, thanks? Nothing like having a brother who thinks you’ll sell his soul,” I mutter, my words dripping with sarcasm, though my chest burns at the implication.
“The point,” he continues, the edge in his tone unmistakable, “is that we need to show them we’re not scared. That we’re ready for whatever they throw at us.”
“I’ll come back and show them I’m not afraid,” Galeana says suddenly, her voice clear and unwavering.
Her words hit me like a freight train. “Wait, baby, you can’t do that. Maybe we’ll go back when things settle, when those assholes are rotting in jail,” I argue, panic threading through my voice despite my best efforts.
She turns to me, her eyes meeting mine with an intensity that roots me in place. “Didn’t you hear your brother? They’re patient. This could take years. I’m not going to stop living, Ledger. Not when I’m just starting to feel alive again. Not when I’m finally . . . finding us .”
Her words cut through the noise in my head, leaving me raw and exposed. She’s right. She’s so fucking right it terrifies me.
“They won’t win,” I say finally, forcing the words past the tightness in my throat, making them a promise.
“They better not,” Mal replies, his voice quiet but full of conviction. “Because if they do, it won’t just be Maple Haven they take. It’ll be everything we care about. I’ll message you when I have more information on how we’ll do things.”
I end the call, my grip still firm on the phone as I stare at Gale.
Her courage ignites something in me, something fierce and unrelenting. We’ll do what she wants, but make sure there’s always someone protecting her. Me and a few bodyguards to ensure nothing happens to her. The Hollow Syndicate can try, but they’ll never take what’s ours. Not her. Not Maple Haven. Not this life we’re starting to build.
They’ll have to go through me first.