Total pages in book: 42
Estimated words: 38856 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 194(@200wpm)___ 155(@250wpm)___ 130(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 38856 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 194(@200wpm)___ 155(@250wpm)___ 130(@300wpm)
Never found out.
These are my choices.
I stare at the ceiling of the hospital room, counting tiles while my chest throbs beneath the bandages. The pain medication makes everything feel underwater, but not deep enough to drown the choice in front of me.
My fingers move before my mind settles, punching in the numbers. Each button press feels like breaking something I can't put back together.
Someone with a Spanish accent picks up the Ashby landline on the fifth ring. Like that phone hasn't rung in so many years, they don't even have it hooked up to an answering service.
"Ashby residence," she says, formal but tired, like she's been working there long enough to know better than to sound excited about anything.
"I need to speak to Savannah," I say, my voice rougher than I expected. This is when I realize my throat is killing me.
There's a pause, a muffled conversation I can't make out. Then rustling, like the phone's being passed around.
"Who is this?" The voice is male, cautious. A butler? A gardener? A ranch hand? Who the fuck knows.
"Put Savannah on the phone," I repeat. Practically growling. "It's Legion."
More muffled voices, sharper this time. I hear her name repeated, then footsteps, the sound of a door closing.
"Hello?" Her voice hits me like a fist to the chest, making the monitors beside my bed beep faster.
"It's me," I say, because what else is there?
"Legion? Oh my God, Legion!" Savannah's voice breaks through the line, breathless, happy, loves me. "Thank God. I've been praying so hard. The doctors wouldn't tell me anything after I left. Just that you were stable. That's the only reason we left. How are you? Are you okay? When did you wake up?"
I can't get a single word in, but I start to smile despite myself. Despite everything. Her voice sounds like the only real thing in this sterile room.
"I'm alive," I manage to say when she pauses for breath.
"Barely," she says, and I can hear the worry beneath her relief. "But don't worry, they're gonna release you into my team's care in three days. Just hold tight."
My smile fades. "What?"
"My team. The medical team I hired. They've been coordinating with your doctors."
I don't know what that means. My brain feels like it's working through mud, trying to make sense of her words.
"Savannah, what are you talking about? What team?"
"The only way they'll discharge you is if you have somewhere to go where you can receive IV antibiotics around the clock, or you'll relapse and the infection will get worse," she explains, her voice taking on that tone she gets when she's already decided something. "You will die without treatment, Legion. The doctors were very clear about that. You are not better. Only stable."
The monitors beside my bed beep faster again as my heart rate climbs. "OK. Now tell me what you haven't said yet."
"Well..." Her voice brightens, like she's delivering good news. "You're moving into the Ashby Mansion, of course. It's the only place equipped. And anyway, I'm here. Mercy's here. So you should be here too."
CHAPTER 5
I've always loved the crow's nest. A circle of windows wrapping three hundred and sixty degrees around a space too small to impress anyone—just big enough to breathe in.
"Is that it?" Mercy presses her nose against the glass, leaving a perfect smudge that would've sent my mother into conniptions. "Is that the helicopter?"
I squint at the distant speck hovering above the eastern pasture. "Not yet, sweetie. That's just one of the crop dusters for the Whalburg place."
Mercy sighs dramatically, her shoulders slumping. "How much longer?"
"Soon." I rest my hand on her shoulder, feeling the bone beneath her t-shirt. She's still too thin, though Cash has been stuffing her with organic everything since the judge handed her over. "Why don't you check on Puddles? Make sure he hasn't destroyed another pair of Cash's boots."
"He only did that once," Mercy says defensively, but she's already halfway to the spiral staircase, eager to reunite with the golden retriever puppy that materialized within hours of the custody hearing. As if a dog could replace a brother.
Alone again, I press my forehead against the cool glass, taking in the view that used to feel like a kingdom and now feels like a prison yard.
The Ashby Ranch sprawls in every direction—forty-seven thousand acres of Montana that my mother made sure the entire world knew was ours. To the north, the cattle pastures stretch toward the horizon, dotted with Black Angus that look like toys from up here. The eastern fields roll golden with wheat and barley, while the western edge disappears into pine forests that climb toward the mountains. South of the mansion, the outbuildings cluster like a small town. And beyond them, the private airstrip that we don’t use much, but maintain just in case.
Ten days ago, I was sitting at the Duns' dinner table, watching Legion laugh with Havoc's kids, feeling like maybe—just maybe—I'd found somewhere I actually belonged.