36. Gerald
GERALD
The cabin smelled like dust.
Mold.
Old wood.
Failure.
I hated it.
The mattress sagged in the middle.
The windows barely shut.
The kitchen had one cracked counter and a refrigerator that sounded like it was dying every time it kicked on.
But it was hidden.
That was all that mattered.
Nobody came this far down the old logging road.
Nobody except hunters.
And hunting season was months away.
I stood on top of the roof with the binoculars pressed to my eyes.
The ranch sat in the distance.
Small from here.
Peaceful.
Like nothing was wrong.
Like Sadie hadn’t ruined everything.
I watched her walk out of the house carrying a basket.
Her hair was pulled up.
She wore jeans and one of those soft shirts she always wore around the ranch.
The sight of her made my chest ache.
She looked normal.
Happy.
Like she belonged there.
Then Beast stepped out behind her.
My grip tightened on the binoculars.
He was too close.
Always too close.
He took the basket from her hands.
Sadie smiled at him.
Smiled.
At him.
Like he had earned it.
Like he had done anything except push himself into her life.
I lowered the binoculars.
My breathing turned heavy.
“She doesn’t know what she’s doing,” I whispered.
She didn’t.
Sadie was confused.
Scared.
Beast had made her think she needed him.
That she was safe with him.
But I knew Sadie.
I knew what she needed.
She needed someone who understood her.
Someone who had loved her before all of this.
Someone who knew the girl she used to be.
Me.
I got down from the roof.
I paced the cabin.
Back and forth.
The floorboards creaked beneath my boots.
Darren had called three times.
I ignored every one of those calls.
He didn’t understand.
Nobody understood.
They all thought I was the problem.
They all thought I had lost.
But they were wrong.
Sadie had just forgotten.
That was all.
She had forgotten who she belonged with.
The gun sat on the table.
Black.
Heavy.
Waiting.
I stared at it.
For a long moment.
Then I looked back through the binoculars.
Beast had pulled Sadie close.
His head bent toward hers.
She laughed again.
Something inside me snapped tighter.
Not all the way.
Not yet.
But close.
I picked up the gun.
Checked the magazine.
Set it back down.
Not today.
Today, I watched.
Today, I learned.
Beast left the ranch around eight every morning.
Wolf came by around ten.
Trigger showed up most afternoons.
The sheriff drove past twice a day.
Sadie’s dad stayed near the barn until lunch.
The ranch hands took breaks behind the equipment shed.
Everyone had a pattern.
Everyone had a weakness.
I wrote it all down in a small notebook.
Times.
Names.
Vehicles.
Doors.
Windows.
I didn’t need much.
Just one opening.
One moment when Beast wasn’t beside her.
One moment when nobody was watching.
Then I would take Sadie somewhere quiet.
Somewhere safe.
Somewhere Beast couldn’t find her.
She would be angry at first.
I knew that.
But she would calm down.
Eventually.
She would remember.
She would see that I was the only one who had ever truly loved her.
The only one who would never leave.
The only one who would do anything to keep her.
Outside, the wind moved through the trees.
The cabin creaked.
The gun waited on the table.
Back upon the roof, I watched.
And miles away, Sadie stepped into Beast’s arms.
I watched them through the binoculars.
Watched Beast kiss the top of her head.
Watched Sadie close her eyes.
My hand curled into a fist.
Soon.
Very soon.
Beast was going to learn something.
Sadie wasn’t his.
She was mine.