Chapter Thirty-Seven
Torin
Torin stood at the edge of the ranch, watching as Garett’s truck disappeared down the dusty road toward town. The moment the vehicle was out of sight, a restless energy raced through him. He had been carrying this question for years, a weight that pressed heavier on his chest with each passing day. He needed answers, and he couldn’t wait any longer. Without a second thought, he turned and began walking toward the stables, his heart pounding with a mix of determination and dread. Why didn’t he think of asking Dante? Of course, he knew. He was sure Liam had told him, but Torin thought Dante knew everything. Did Garett know too?
The stagecoach was waiting, and Torin climbed in, his hands trembling as he sat. The ride to Dante’s office felt like an eternity, each passing mile amplifying the storm of emotions swirling inside him. By the time he arrived, his stomach was in knots, and his mind was a whirlwind of fear and hope. He knocked on the door; the sound echoing in the quiet hallway.
Dante opened the door, his expression unreadable as he stepped aside to let Torin in. “What do you want?” he asked, his tone sharp but not unkind.
Torin took a deep breath, his voice shaking as he spoke. “I need to know…which mafia family murdered my parents.”
Dante’s eyes narrowed, and he crossed his arms over his chest. “You should ask your brother. Liam knows.”
Torin’s chest tightened, and he shook his head. “I’ve asked him. I’ve begged him to tell me. He won’t tell me. I need to know, Dante. Please.”
Dante studied him for a long moment, his gaze piercing. “You’re digging into something dangerous, Torin. Some things are better left buried.”
“I can’t leave it buried,” Torin said, his voice rising with desperation. “They were my parents. I deserve to know.”
Dante sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Fine. But you’re not going to like what I have to say.”
Torin’s heart raced as Dante leaned against his desk, his expression grim. “It was the Bellucci family. Byron’s father put the hit on your parents. That’s why Liam didn’t want you around Byron. He was trying to protect you.”
The words hit Torin like a punch to the gut, knocking the air from his lungs. He staggered back, his mind reeling. “No…that can’t be true. Byron wouldn’t…his family wouldn’t…”
Dante’s expression softened, but his tone remained firm. “It’s the truth, Torin. I wouldn’t lie about something like this.”
Torin’s vision blurred as tears filled his eyes. He turned and stumbled out of the office, his chest heaving with sobs he couldn’t hold back. The world around him felt like it was spinning, the ground unsteady beneath his feet. He wandered, his mind a chaotic mess of disbelief and heartbreak.
Finally, he pulled out his phone and dialed Byron’s number, his hands shaking so badly he could barely hold the device. The phone rang once, twice, before Byron’s voice came through the line.
“Torin? What’s wrong?”
Torin’s voice broke as he spoke. “Is it true? Did your father…did he order the hit on my parents?”
There was a long pause, and Torin’s heart sank as the silence stretched on. Finally, Byron spoke, his voice quiet but steady. “Yes. It’s true.”
The words were like a knife to Torin’s chest, and he sank to his knees, the phone slipping from his hand. Tears streamed down his face as the reality of what he’d just learned crashed over him. His parents’ deaths, the years of pain and loss—it all traced back to Byron’s family. To the man he had once loved. He picked up his phone to talk more.
“Why did you seek me out knowing that?” Torin asked.
“I’m not my father. I saw you at a club and wanted you. I love you.”
“That’s why Liam took extreme measures to stop you from being with me. That’s why he sent me to Montana, away from you.”
“Yes. The judge didn’t stop me. I know you’re all into Garett and Montana right now. But know this. I’m serious. I loved you then and still do. I never had any thoughts of hurting you.”
“I believe you. I just had to hear it from you. I need closure with you.”
“Tory, I understand you can’t be with me now that you know the truth. If you need anything, call me. I’ll always be here for you in any way needed.”
“I don’t need anything.” Torin ended the call.
Torin sat there on the ground, his body wracked with sobs, as the weight of the truth settled over him. He didn’t know how to process it, how to move forward. All he knew was that his world had just been shattered, and he wasn’t sure if he could ever piece it back together.
Torin sat on the ground, his knees pulled to his chest, his face buried in his hands. The world around him felt distant, muffled, as if he were underwater. The weight of what he’d just learned pressed down on him, crushing his chest and making it hard to breathe. Byron’s voice still echoed in his mind, the confirmation of his worst fears ringing in his ears. His parents’ deaths, the years of unanswered questions, the grief that had shaped his life—it all traced back to the Bellucci family. To Byron’s father. To the man he had once trusted, once loved.
He didn’t know how long he sat there, his body trembling with sobs, before he heard footsteps approaching. He didn’t look up, didn’t have the strength to face anyone. But then he felt a hand on his shoulder, warm and steady, and he knew it was Garett.
“Torin,” Garett’s voice was soft, filled with concern. “What happened?”
Torin shook his head, his throat too tight to speak. He couldn’t find the words, couldn’t bring himself to say them out loud. But Garett didn’t push. Instead, he kneeled beside Torin, his presence a comforting anchor in the storm of emotions.
“Talk to me,” Garett said gently, his hand moving to rub slow circles on Torin’s back. “Whatever it is, we’ll figure it out together.”
Torin took a shuddering breath, his voice breaking as he finally spoke. “I…I went to see Dante. I asked him…about my parents. Who killed them?”
Garett’s hand stilled for a moment, then resumed its soothing motion. “And?”
Torin’s chest tightened, and he forced the words out, each one feeling like a knife. “It was Byron’s father. The Bellucci family. They…they ordered the hit.”
Garett was silent for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then he let out a slow breath, his voice quiet but firm. “I didn’t know, Torin. I swear, I didn’t know.”
Torin nodded, his tears falling faster. “I called Byron. He…he confirmed it. It’s true.”
Garett’s arms wrapped around Torin, pulling him close. Torin buried his face in Garett’s chest, his body shaking as more sobs wracked him. Garett held him tightly, his hand cradling the back of Torin’s head, his voice a low murmur in Torin’s ear.
“I’m so sorry, Torin. I can’t imagine how much this hurts. But you’re not alone. I’m here. I’ve got you.”
Torin clung to Garett, his fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt as if it were the only thing keeping him grounded. The pain was overwhelming, a tidal wave of grief and betrayal that threatened to drown him. But Garett’s presence was a lifeline, steady and unwavering.
They stayed like that for what felt like hours, Garett holding Torin as he cried, his tears soaking Garett’s shirt. Slowly, the sobs subsided, leaving Torin exhausted and hollow. Garett didn’t let go, his arms still wrapped tightly around Torin, his breath warm against Torin’s hair.
“Let’s go home,” Garett said softly, his voice filled with tenderness. “You don’t have to face this alone.”
Torin nodded weakly, his body feeling heavy and drained. Garett helped him to his feet, keeping an arm around his shoulders as they walked back to the house. The world outside felt distant, the beauty of Montana’s landscape blurred by Torin’s tears. But Garett’s presence was a constant, and a steady force that kept him emotionally leveled.
When they reached the house, Garett led Torin to the couch, gently guiding him to sit down. He disappeared for a moment, returning with a glass of water and a soft blanket. He wrapped the blanket around Torin’s shoulders, then sat beside him, pulling him close.
Torin leaned into Garett, his head resting on his shoulder. The tears had stopped, but the ache in his chest remained, a heavy weight that seemed impossible to lift. Garett’s hand stroked his hair, his touch soothing and gentle.
“I don’t know what to do,” Torin whispered, his voice hoarse. “I don’t know how to…how to process this.”
“You don’t have to figure it out right now,” Garett said, his voice calm and steady. “Just breathe. Take it one step at a time. And know that I’m here, no matter what.”
Torin closed his eyes, letting Garett’s words sink in. He didn’t have the answers and didn’t know how to move forward. But for now, in Garett’s arms, he felt safe. He felt loved. And for the first time since learning the truth, he felt like maybe, just maybe, he could survive this.
They sat there in silence, the quiet of the house wrapping around them like a cocoon. Torin’s breathing slowed, his body relaxing against Garett’s. The pain was still there, sharp and raw, but it felt a little more bearable with Garett by his side.
“Thank you,” Torin murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “For being here. For…for not letting me fall apart.”
Garett pressed a kiss to the top of Torin’s head, his arms tightening around him. “Always, Torin. Always.”