Total pages in book: 147
Estimated words: 141556 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 708(@200wpm)___ 566(@250wpm)___ 472(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 141556 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 708(@200wpm)___ 566(@250wpm)___ 472(@300wpm)
Ten minutes of silence, of Saint’s hand gripping mine across the seat, of the setting sun bleeding red across the mountains like a warning. I’ve made this drive a thousand times. Never dreaded it like this.
The main house rises against the evening sky like a fortress.
Three stories of timber and stone, built by my great-grandfather when he first claimed this land. Every generation since has added to it, expanding the legacy and ensuring the house dominates the landscape, just as the family dominates the town. I’ve walked through that front door thousands of times, but tonight, it feels different. Tonight, it feels like walking into an ambush.
Sawyer’s SUV is already here. Kade’s mud-splattered pickup. Levi’s Jeep. All the brothers, summoned just like us. Family dinner after all.
“Stay close to me,” I tell Saint as I kill the engine. “Don’t speak unless he asks you a direct question. If things go wrong, you get behind me and stay there. Understood?”
She nods, face pale but steady. Braver than she should have to be.
We walk up the stone path together, her hand cold in mine. The front door opens before we reach it, and for one terrible moment, I expect Roman himself. But it’s only Elena, my mother, dressed in expensive cream and pearls, looking fragile as spun glass.
“Calder.” She tries to smile but fails. Her hands flutter at her sides before clasping together, a nervous gesture I recognize from childhood. “Everyone’s in the sitting room. Cocktails before dinner.”
“Since when does Roman do cocktails?”
Elena’s eyes flick to Saint, then back to me. Something passes across her face. Warning, maybe. Fear. The same look she used to give me before one of Roman’s “lessons” when I was a boy. Be careful. That’s what her eyes say. Whatever’s coming, be careful.
“Since tonight,” she says. “He’s been planning this for a while.”
Planning. The word sits wrong in my stomach.
“Mom.” I reach for her arm, keeping my voice low. “What’s going on?”
But she just shakes her head, pulls away. “Go. It’s okay. It’ll be okay.”
The sitting room is at the front of the house, a formal space we barely use. Heavy furniture, dark wood, windows overlooking the valley all dark now. My brothers are scattered around the room, drinks in hand, and I can read the tension in every line of their bodies.
Sawyer stands near the fireplace, posture rigid, one hand wrapped around a whiskey he hasn’t touched. His laptop is nowhere in sight, which means he came here expecting trouble, not business. Kade paces by the windows, restless energy barely contained, his broad frame casting shadows across the hardwood with each pass. He looks ready to fight something. Anything. Levi sits in a leather armchair, leg bouncing, fingers drumming on the armrest. He won’t meet my eyes.
None of them knows why they’re here.
None of them knows about the FBI.
That was always the plan. The less they knew, the safer they’d be if everything went sideways. I’d carry this alone, the way I’ve carried everything else Roman’s asked of me. Except this time, I’m not carrying it for him. I’m carrying it against him.
Looking at my brothers now, at the confusion and barely contained fear on their faces, I wonder if I made the right call. If I’ve just walked them all into a trap they can’t see coming.
“Brother.” Sawyer nods, voice careful. Controlled. “Interesting evening.”
“Know what this is about?”
“No idea.” His eyes cut toward the ceiling, toward Roman’s wing upstairs where the old man keeps his trophies, his secrets. “But he’s been in a mood all day. Whatever it is, it’s big.”
Kade stops pacing long enough to glare at me. “Finally decided to show up?”
“We’re on time.”
“You know how he gets when he has to wait.” His gaze flicks to Saint, dismissive and hostile. He’s never liked her. Never accepted her as family. To Kade, she’s still the witness, the loose end, the problem I should have solved with a bullet instead of a ring.
I don’t rise to the bait. Just guide Saint toward the drink cart, pour her a glass of water, and keep her tucked against my side where I can protect her if I need to. The wire sits heavy in my pocket, not yet applied. I’ll put it on before we go in to dinner.
Levi catches my eye from across the room. Something passes between us. A question. A plea. He’s been trying to get me to open up for weeks now, trying to understand why I’ve been acting strange, why I shut him down every time he asks about the ceremony. I’ve given him nothing.
The guilt of that sits heavy in my chest, right where the wire will soon be.
He uncurls from the chair and crosses to stand beside me. “You okay?” Low voice, meant just for me.
“Fine.”
“You don’t look fine. You look like you’re about to face a firing squad.”