50. Ryder
CHAPTER FIFTY
Ryder
“…pattern of instability, questionable ownership, and potential threat to public safety…”
Wren’s voice carries cleanly through the council chamber, practiced and precise, the kind of tone that makes concern fact if you don’t look too closely.
I listen.
I’ve been waiting for this move.
The room’s full. People line the walls, crowd the aisles, all of them watching because they can feel the shift before it happens.
Good.
Let them watch.
I stand at the back with Zane on my left and Finn on my right. We don’t take seats. We don’t blend in. We hold the space we walked into, make it clear we’re part of this, whether anyone likes it or not.
Wren continues, “…concerns raised by multiple parties regarding the ownership of The Hollow and its connection to—”
“Name them.”
My voice cuts through his sentence without effort.
He stops, turning slowly. He expected me to step in eventually. There’s a satisfied smugness in his expression—this is unfolding exactly the way he planned.
“Mr. Callahan,” he says, polite on the surface. “It’s my turn to talk.”
I hold his gaze. “Name them.”
There’s a brief pause while he decides how to play it.
Then that smile.
“Sources prefer to remain confidential.”
Of course they do.
The old instinct rises fast. The urge to end this the way I used to, quick and final, without needing a room full of witnesses or a council vote.
It would be easy, but easy isn’t what I built this place for.
Before I answer, another voice cuts through the room. “Then I’ll help with that.”
Deputy Kurt Morgan steps forward with two officers behind him, a file in his hand. There’s no performance in him this time. No trying to look bigger than he is.
About time.
Wren stiffens.
Judge McDowell shifts her attention. “Deputy?”
Kurt opens the file, glances down once, then looks up at the room.
“We’ve been reviewing the complaints filed against The Hollow over the past several weeks,” he says. “Several of them raised red flags.”
The room quiets.
“They all trace back to one consistent source.” He doesn’t drag it out. “Cole Varga, a man currently in custody—”
Wren recovers quickly. “This is a misinterpretation—”
“It’s a pattern,” Kurt says, firmer now. “We’ve connected Mr. Varga to multiple incidents. Property damage. Intimidation. Attempted interference with local businesses.”
He flips a page.
“The broken window at The Hollow. The fire behind the building. Reports of surveillance and harassment.”
Another page.
“Financial transfers routed through third parties tied to local interests.” His gaze lifts and lands directly on Wren. “Those transactions connect to land acquisition efforts involving this property.”
That shifts the room.
Mayor Hartwell straightens. “Benjamin… is there any truth to this?”
“There isn’t,” Wren snaps, too quickly. “This is circumstantial—”
“We also have testimony, confessions,” Kurt continues. “And corroborating evidence that Mr. Varga attempted to influence council decisions regarding The Hollow through intimidation and coordinated reporting.”
The silence that follows feels different.
People are thinking now. Reconsidering.
Mayor Hartwell’s posture changes, subtle but unmistakable. “If this council has acted on compromised information,” she says carefully, “that will be addressed immediately.”
Wren’s control slips another fraction.
Judge McDowell folds her hands. “Given the evidence presented, I suggest you choose your next words carefully, Mr. Wren.”
The room tightens around him.
“All motions regarding The Hollow are suspended pending full review while this investigation proceeds,” she adds.
Wren looks at me then, really looks. The confidence is gone. What’s left is fear.
Good.
He should’ve understood what he was involving himself in.
Cole was never a man you direct; he was something you survive… if you’re lucky.
We step out into the hallway, the noise of the chamber fading behind us.
Zane rolls his shoulders once. “That’s enough.”
“For now,” I say.
Finn drags a hand through his hair. “I’ll take it.”
I don’t realize I’ve been holding my breath until it finally lets go.
Air fills my lungs in a way that feels unfamiliar.
I didn’t lose control in there, didn’t let it turn into something else, no bodies, no fire, no damage I can’t contain.
The Hollow is still standing.
The town is still standing.
And she’s still here.
That last one lands deeper than the rest.
For the first time in a long time, I held the line instead of watching it break. I didn’t just survive this—I protected it. And somewhere in that, whether I planned it or not, I chose what comes next.
By the time we get back, The Hollow has settled into its usual rhythm.
Music hums low through the space. The kind of sound that hangs around instead of pushes. People stay because they want to, not because there’s nowhere else to go.
I step inside and let it settle around me.
Aurora heads for the bar, light catching in her hair, her smile softer than it used to be but real in a way that matters more. There’s a steadiness in her now that didn’t exist before all of this.
I move closer to her and wait for her to finish the drink Arlo has given her.
“Come on,” I say.
She tilts her head slightly. “Where?”
“You’ll see.”
The roof is quiet when we step out.
Cool air moves through the space, carrying the distant sounds of the town below. Lights stretch out across Coyote Glen, warm against the dark, steady in a way that feels earned.
Aurora comes to stand beside me, her shoulder brushing mine.
“Okay,” she says, glancing over. “What’s going on?”
I take a second.
This part still doesn’t come easy.
“I should’ve kept you away from it,” I say.
She turns fully toward me. “Ryder—”
“I knew what he’d do if he got close enough,” I continue. “I knew how he works.”
“You didn’t do this to me.”
“You didn’t know what you were stepping into.”
“No,” she says. “But I stayed anyway.”
She’s still carrying pieces of it. I can see it in the way her body holds tension, in the way her eyes stay just a fraction more alert than they used to be.
But she’s here.
Choosing this.
“I thought…” My voice tightens slightly. “If I kept you close, I’d be the reason you got hurt.”
Her expression softens, but she lets me finish.
“And if I pushed you away,” I add, quieter now, “I’d still lose you.”
She steps closer. “I’m still here.”
“I know.”
“Because I want to be. Because this is the first place I’ve ever felt like I can breathe,” she continues. “And I’m not running from that.”
My chest tightens as a door I’ve kept locked finally gives way.
“You’re not built for my world,” I say, but there’s no edge to it now. It’s something I used to believe.
Her mouth curves slightly. “You don’t get to decide that. How many times do I have to tell you?”
I almost smile.
My hand comes up, settling against her jaw, thumb brushing lightly beneath her eye. She leans into the touch without hesitation, certain in a way that still catches me off guard.
There’s trust there.
Real trust.
It does something to me I can’t ignore anymore.
“Stay close,” I say quietly.
“I was planning on it.”
That’s the moment everything settles into place.
I pull her in, closing the space between us, and this time I don’t stop myself.
My mouth meets hers, firm and certain, the kind of kiss that doesn’t rush and doesn’t hold back. She responds instantly, hands sliding up my chest, gripping because she means it. She’s anchoring herself here just as much as I am.
I deepen it slowly, letting it build instead of burn out, feeling the shift in her breathing, the way she leans into me because this is where she belongs.