Chapter 28
ISLA
My voice scrapes out as nothing more than a whisper, trembling and raw. “Why?”
The bravado I had only seconds ago, when I thought I could spring from the trunk like some heroine in a crime drama, vanishes the moment I meet Nathaniel’s eyes. His gaze is depthless and cold, his shadow stretching over me like a grave marker.
He doesn’t bother replying. Instead, his hand dives into the trunk, thick fingers twisting through a fistful of my hair. He yanks and fire lances through my scalp. A cry bursts from my throat as stars explode behind my eyes.
The world becomes a dizzy haze as he drags me like a rag doll from the trunk. I slam into the dirt with a muffled thud. Dust plumes around me, gritty and bitter on my tongue.
My vision swims as I push onto shaky elbows. We’re perched on the mountain, high up near the stretch of road where he rammed me off the cliff. Just beyond us, a narrow trail twists down the eastern side, leading toward the infamous ridge locals whisper about.
Anyone who grows up in Wildhaven knows about this desolate and dangerous place. In high school, two drunken teenagers stumbled off that very cliff. The tide had swept away their broken bodies, and it took weeks before search and rescue dragged back what the water hadn’t already claimed.
My pulse stutters. Perhaps that’s Nathaniel’s plan. Toss me over the edge, let the water devour me, and leave Wildhaven to chalk it up as a tragic accident.
“On your feet,” he snaps, his boot colliding with the side of my leg. Pain spikes through bone and muscle, jolting me upright with a grunt.
I press my hand against the battered bumper for leverage, but my body is sluggish and heavy. It’s as if gravity has doubled its strength.
I wobble upright. Nathaniel crowds me immediately, one hand gripping my shoulder while the other brandishes a pistol that glints in the dappled light breaking through the pines. My skin goes clammy beneath his touch.
I can’t fight him now, not outright. But Nathaniel has always been a man fond of hearing his own voice. Maybe I can buy time. Maybe I can keep him talking.
“Why are you doing this?”
His response is a backhand that cracks against my cheek with the violence of a gunshot. The searing sting steals my breath, white fire spreading across my jaw. I stumble but force myself not to crumple, tasting blood as it spreads hot and metallic across my tongue.
He shoves me forward. “Move.”
I force my legs into motion even as my knees threaten to buckle. The forest is eerily still, with only the crunch of pine needles and the rasp of my breathing cutting through the silence. My mind races, cataloging every possible escape route, every noise, every flash of movement in the trees.
And then it hits me. Luke’s watch. I glance down quickly. The plastic digs into my skin, but it also hums with the smallest thread of hope. He said to keep it on. If Nathaniel doesn’t notice it, maybe Luke can find me.
“I’m sorry.” I force the words out like poison I have to swallow. “I didn’t mean to cause problems, Mr. Wild.”
He scoffs, barking a short laugh that sounds too close to a growl. “Problems? You are nothing but problems. Always have been.”
The words slice through me like knives, but I force my expression to crumple in apology. “I only came home because of my mom. I didn’t mean to interfere. I never meant to hurt anyone.”
Nathaniel jerks me forward, the barrel of the gun grazing my side as a cruel smile stretches across his lips. “But you did. You distracted Luke. You poisoned him with your nonsense, made him believe he could be something other than what I wanted him to be.”
“You didn’t want him to be sheriff.”
He sneers, tightening his grip until my shoulder burns. “Of course not. I could have given him everything. Money, power, protection. But he chose this pathetic dream. He’s going to lose everything because of it.”
My throat burns, but I keep moving, legs dragging as I clutch at the small flicker of hope pulsing against my wrist. Please, someone, see me. Please, someone, come.
The trail narrows, roots crisscrossing like skeletal hands reaching out from the soil. My Uggs slip, and I nearly pitch forward before catching myself on a tree trunk. Nathaniel jerks me upright, the pistol pressing harder into my side.
The rage that simmers in my veins threatens to boil over. I can’t just keep walking to my death. My mind scrambles, desperate for some distraction, some delay, some shred of resistance that might give Luke or Gabe time to reach me.
Without thinking, I drop my hand, scoop up a gritty fistful of dirt and pine needles, and fling it into his face.
He curses, blinking furiously, momentarily blinded. My heart leaps. I spin and bolt off the trail, stumbling through underbrush, branches whipping at my face. My lungs burn as adrenaline surges, my only thought: RUN!
But my boots aren’t meant for this terrain. Pine needles slide beneath my soles, sending me skidding downhill. My legs pinwheel, arms flailing for balance. For a split second, freedom feels possible, until Nathaniel’s iron grip clamps around the back of my sweater.
He yanks me backward, and I slam to the forest floor. My palms tear against gravel and sap, sticky pine tar gluing to my skin. A cry rips from my throat.
“Try that again,” he hisses, towering over me, “and I’ll shoot you where you stand.”
“Why are you the one doing this?” I rasp, forcing the words past clenched teeth.
Anything to keep him talking. Anything to buy time.
His lips curl into a sneer. “Because you forced my hand. You really aren’t very bright, are you?”
Hatred sears through me, raw and feral. My voice slices out before I can stop it. “You don’t strike me as the type to get your own hands dirty. Isn’t that what Ares is for?”
The forest stills. The air thickens, suffocating.
Nathaniel’s head snaps toward me, eyes narrowing to slits. All arrogance drains from his face, replaced by something jagged and unstable. Fear.
He spins me around so violently my teeth rattle, his hands locking on my shoulders like vices. His pupils are pinpoints, sweat gleaming at his temples. The gun trembles in his fist.
“What did you just say?”
I meet his stare, letting my own fear fuel me into something sharper. “You’ve got people who do your dirty work. People like Ares.”
His mask cracks, terror flickering beneath the surface. “Where did you hear that name?”
I shrug with as much bravado as I can muster.
The gun clatters to the ground. In an instant, he’s on me, hands clamped around my throat. His thumbs gouge into my windpipe, crushing. My airway closes with brutal precision.
I claw at his wrists, nails digging trenches into his skin. My legs thrash uselessly, heels scraping against the dirt. My vision narrows, black edges bleeding into the corners. Stars explode in my head. My body screams for air.
Nathaniel’s face hovers inches from mine, a mask of fury twisted into something monstrous. His spit sprays my cheek as he snarls, “Do you have any idea what you’ve stepped into?”
I swing blindly, fists connecting with nothing but air. My nails rake across his knuckles, and I feel the faint tear of skin. If I die here, at least his DNA will be embedded in my flesh, a trace for Luke to find.
I’m seconds from collapsing when, suddenly, his grip loosens. He hurls me aside like a broken doll.
My throat burns raw. Each gasp drags like sandpaper.
He paces like a caged animal, ranting under his breath. Then he stalks back, scoops up the pistol, and shoves it hard into my ribs. “Move.”
I cough violently, voice barely a rasp. “Tell me…tell me what you’ve done.”
He whirls on me, eyes bloodshot. “Everything! I built this family, this town. I made the deals, I took the risks. All Luke had to do was follow my lead. But no—he had to play sheriff.”
Terror should freeze me, but all I see is desperation. Nathaniel Wild has lost control. He’s unraveling before my eyes. And for the first time, I see not just the monster, but the coward trembling beneath the mask.
I rise on unsteady legs, each muscle screaming. “So, now what?”
He stares back, disbelief twisting his features, before his expression hardens into a snarl. “Now, someone has to pay for this mess.”
He scoffs at the word. “That’s the only way I can restore order here. You need to go. Then life can go back to normal.”
He continues mumbling to himself as he herds me along the trail, one hard shove at a time. “With you out of the way, Luke will crumble. Finally. Then we can put all of this behind us.”
The trees thin by degrees until the sky opens over us. Somewhere far below, water snarls over stone.
“Keep moving.”
I go, counting steps, breathes, heartbeats. I angle the watch on my wrist so the face points outward, the metal biting my skin. If Gabe is tracking me, let the sky see the signal.
Let anyone see it—a broken twig. I twist free and flick into the moss at ankle height. Breadcrumbs of hope disguised as litter.
“I didn’t drag Luke into anything,” I say, because silence feels like consent. “He chose who he is.”
“He chose wrong.” Nathaniel doesn’t look at me. “He always has.”
“Because he wouldn’t choose you.”
That lands. His jaw knots as the gun lifts a fraction. For a heartbeat, I see a boy-shaped hole where a father should have been. Then the wind tears the thought away, and I’m staring at a man who would throw me off a cliff to keep a secret from bleeding.
The trail spills us onto a rocky saddle cut into the ridge. Ten steps ahead, the earth sheers off.
“Closer,” he orders.
I edge forward. To my right, a pale clump of lichen clings to a boulder.
Hang on. Don’t let go.
“This is where it ends? A fall no one questions. The water takes whatever it wants.”
His mouth doesn’t move, but I feel the satisfaction come off him like heat.
“You think you get your life back after this?” I turn enough to find his eyes.
“It’s already gone. Whether you throw me or not, the person you pretend to be doesn’t exist anymore. Your wife knows. Your children will know. Luke—” My voice scrapes. “Luke won’t let this disappear.”
“Luke,” he repeats, like the name is sour. “He is not my son.”
“He learned how to be a man in your house,” I say. “That counts for something.”
“What it counts for is a liability.” He tips the gun at my chest. “Turn around.”
The ridge breathes cold against my face. Wind threads my hair. I plant my feet wider, knees soft, center of gravity low. If he takes a step, if he reaches—go limp and drop. Roll left into the scrub. If he shoots—
No ifs. Breathe.
“Look at me,” I say.
He hesitates for a fraction of a second. “Why?”
“Because I want you to see what you’re doing.” I pivot a half-inch. The barrel touches my sternum; my heart drums into cold metal. “You said the word ‘sacrifice’. But you didn’t sacrifice. You bought. You bullied. You chose this.”
A muscle ticks in his cheek. He slides his phone out one-handed, flicks his eyes to the screen, then tucks it away. Whatever he saw hardens him. The shakiness from the trail is gone. What’s left is calculation.
“Walk,” he says again. “Two more steps.”
I close my eyes, and the future I’ve been trying not to want floods in. Untidy, gorgeous, ordinary. Luke is in the kitchen laughing at burned pancakes. Little hands smeared with blueberry jam. A porch full of cousins and wet towels and the thunder of running feet.
Lake water in July, neon slushies, the old dock groaning under a tangle of limbs. Christmas lights strung sloppily and perfectly across a fence. The way he’d kneel to show our kid how to tie a knot, patient and proud.
My eyes stay closed because if I open them, I’m going to see the place where that life ends.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper to myself. To the little girl who wanted more from this life. “I wasn’t finished.”
“Neither am I.” Metal nudges bone. “Now.”
I open my eyes. “If you hurt me, there’s no going back.”
“Back?” His laugh is small and ugly. “There is no back. There’s only through.”
His free hand clamps my shoulder and shoves. My heel skids; pebbles rattle off into nowhere. The bottom falls out of my stomach. I jam the toes of my boots into a seam in the rock and lock my knees, fingers finding the rough lip of a boulder.
“Don’t fight,” he says. “It’ll be quick.”
Pain flares where his fingers dig into bruised muscle. Fury surges over fear, hot and clean. “Tell me one truth,” I say, breathless with effort. “Just one, before you do it.”
He hesitates again—the old habit of hearing himself talk. “What?”
“Who owns you?”
The question lands like a blade. His grip stutters. Something frantic moves behind his eyes, then shutters. “You don’t want that answer.”
“You’re right,” I say. “Luke does.”
He leans in, forearm pinning my collarbone, weight pushing me toward open air. The gun rises, angled down. “People take wrong turns.”
Below lies Wildhaven, the small town of my childhood, blissfully ignorant of the evil lurking above in the mountains. Luke hasn’t found me. There’s no time left.
The thought of my future vanishing like tendrils of smoke finally breaks me, and I begin to sob. My life is poised to end here, at the base of this unforgiving ridge.
There was so much more I wanted from this life.