Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 71949 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 360(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71949 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 360(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
The thought chills me.
He was willing to let me die if he couldn’t have me.
Which means he’s willing to let Belinda die. She’s nothing to him.
“The note,” Raven says quietly. “The one that came with the roses.”
“It’s in the kitchen,” I say. “We got it back from the lab. They didn’t find DNA. Vinnie left it on the counter in the evidence bag.” I look at him.
He nods. “Right side of the sink. Behind the breadbox.”
I pivot. “Let’s go.”
In the kitchen, the coffee machine is still on. The counter on the right side of the sink is clean—too clean. The breadbox, and…
No evidence bag.
Only a small pink rectangle propped against the base of the breadbox. The envelope’s paper has a faint satin sheen, like a cheap valentine trying to look expensive.
My name is written on the front in hand-lettered calligraphy that imitates kindness.
Daniela.
The room tilts again. For a heartbeat, the envelope eats the world.
Raven sees it as I lift my hand. “Don’t,” she says, the word quick and quiet at the same time. “Wait.”
Vinnie moves, and I register the gentle pressure of his palm at my elbow, reining me in from the impulse to snatch, to tear, to read. He grabs a pair of nitrile gloves from the drawer by the fridge, snaps them on, and passes another pair to me. I tug them over fingers that don’t feel like my own. Nothing does anymore.
We crowd the counter, three bodies making a wall around a pink square.
Vinnie leans in and sniffs, and for a stupid heartbeat I want to laugh because it’s so meticulous and absurd.
And necessary.
“Angle your phone light,” he says.
Raven obeys, phone tilted, the beam slicing clean along the envelope’s edges. No seams ripped and resealed. No raised bulge beyond what a single thin page would make. No powder dusted along the flap. No telltale mechanical secures. No string. Just a small sticker—a golden heart—sealing the flap.
“See?” Raven whispers. “He wants you to read it.”
Of course he does. He lives for drama.
My stomach heaves. I swallow it down, breathe.
“In a second,” Vinnie says. “Let me shoot it.”
He takes three photos from three angles, timestamped, and then one with my gloved hand hovering close and another with it farther away. Then he steps back and nods at me.
I slide the envelope toward me, slowly and carefully. It makes the driest whisper against the counter. The heart sticker is centered as if it’s jeering at me.
I hook a gloved fingernail under the edge.
23
HAWK
I get back to my place, pull into the drive, idle a second with my hands on the wheel, and listen to the engine tick as it cools.
I didn’t burn the barn.
Falcon went home to Savannah, none the wiser about Reyes or coordinates or AI flames. He believed my nonsense about scouting a guesthouse site and “checking structure.” He left in good spirits.
Inside, my foyer smells like lemon oil and laundry detergent. My cleaners are here. Fuck. The framed print by the door—Do The Next Right Thing—stares down like an accusation and a benediction in one. I set my keys in the dish just before my phone buzzes.
It’s a text from Raven.
Judge says the DHS notice was fake. Dani’s not going anywhere. We’re 90% sure Agudelo’s chef is behind Belinda. V’s digging on a real name. We’re on it. Will update.
I shut my eyes, and the breath I let out feels like a pack is dropping off my shoulders.
Fixed.
One thing, at least, is fixed. Daniela isn’t going back to Colombia.
I take my boots off and leave them facing the door the way Dad drilled into us—always ready to move. I walk through the kitchen, grab a glass of water, and drink it down.
Then I head into my mancave, where the Nintendo controller sits on the coffee table—a portal to a world where you get three lives plus extras if you’re clever.
For a second, the idea is delicious. I could sit. I could hurl myself into make-believe and let the dopamine do its merciful job. No blood, no law, no family, no leverage. Just jump, duck, run, repeat.
Make the noise stop.
My hand hovers over the controller.
I pull it back.
Daniela isn’t leaving the US. But nothing else is fixed. The barn still stands. Reyes has leverage on me.
And worse…
Belinda is still missing.
And Daniela is still in danger.
Not just from the chef, Reyes, and Diego Vega.
But from the Huntington’s gene.
Damn.
I know Agudelo was lying to her. I just know it.
Is it just foolish hope on my part?
Maybe, but it’s worth a shot.
We have to get Daniela tested. And if she does have the gene? I’ll spend every minute with her and every dollar of my fortune trying to get her cured.
I can’t kill the disease if she has it, but I can at least kill the uncertainty. I can take the weight off her shoulders or, if I can’t, I can shoulder it with her.