Ryan had gone to the Livestock office and I was left in the cabin alone. I wasn't feeling the desire to cut cattle in the cold. I could have used that as a distraction from what was really going on in my mind. I opened my laptop and stared at the man, Terrell Riggins, the one who ordered the hit on my family. I didn't buy the story that he was doing it to get perks with the rest of his fellow inmates.

There was more to it—there had to be. No one risked that much, orchestrated something that brutal, just for a little extra protection behind bars.

I leaned forward, studying his face on the screen. His eyes were cold, empty, like he had nothing left to lose. But something about him nagged at me. Pieces of the puzzle weren't fitting together, and until they did, I wouldn't be able to let it go.

I drummed my fingers against the table, debating my next move. If there was more to this—if someone else had their hand in what happened—I needed to know.

I picked up the phone and dialed the only other lawyer I knew besides Jamie—Randy Harper. I'd grown up around Randy, though not directly. He ran in Jamie's circle back in school, which meant I knew enough about him to trust him more than most lawyers—but not by much.

"District Attorney Randy Harper's office, how may I help you?" his secretary answered, all polite professionalism.

"Morning. I need to speak with Randy," I said.

"May I ask who's calling?"

"Alex Dutton."

Her tone shifted just a little, like the name carried weight. "I'll get you right through, Ms. Dutton."

The line barely clicked before Randy's voice came through, warm and familiar. "Well, you're not the Dutton I expected to hear from. You calling about that protester, Summer Higgins?"

I smirked. "I wasn't, but now I'm curious."

He chuckled. "Yeah, well, can't give you details on an open case. Thought your brother would've taught you that much."

"Jamie teaches me plenty. I just have selective memory."

"I bet you do," he said, amused. "So what can I do for you, Alex?"

I leaned back in my chair, glancing at my laptop screen. "I need some information on Terrell Riggins."

There was a brief pause, just long enough for me to hear the gears turning in his head. "That's an interesting name to bring up. What exactly are you looking for?"

I already had my answer ready. "You know how my dad likes to give inmates a second chance by putting them to work on the ranch," I said smoothly, keeping my voice even. That part was true. The rest needed to sound just as believable. "With everything that's gone down this past year, I just want to make sure the next guy he hires doesn't come with any... extra baggage."

Randy let out a low hum. "Uh-huh. And what kind of baggage are we talking about here?"

"The kind that could get someone killed," I admitted.

That seemed to get his full attention. "I'll see what I can find, but if I come back with answers, you better be ready for them."

I wasn't sure I ever would be—but that didn't matter. "Just let me know when you have something."

"Will do," he said. "And Alex?"

"Yeah?"

"Be careful where you step. Some holes go deeper than you think."

I needed answers, but all I had right now was time. I tried to keep myself busy, pacing the cabin, straightening things that didn't need straightening, and skimming through old paperwork just to give my hands something to do. But my mind kept circling back to Riggins, to the possibility that this was only the tip of something much uglier.

When my phone finally rang, I snatched it up, expecting Randy. But it wasn't him.

"Laramie?" I answered, brows furrowing.

"Hey, girl! How you doin'?" Her voice was bright and breezy, but she didn't wait for my response before launching into why she called. "Listen, you've got a TikTok account for the ranch, right?"

"Yeah," I said slowly, thrown off by the sudden topic change. "Haven't figured out what to do with it yet, though. Thought it might help drum up support for the horses we've got on the road."

Truthfully, I wasn't big on social media. Posting, editing, keeping up with trends—it all felt like another chore on an already long list. But I knew the world was changing, and if Dad wanted this ranch to stay on the map, we had to adapt. Whether I liked it or not, that meant putting ourselves out there.

"Good, because you might wanna check it," Laramie said, a knowing edge to her voice. "You've kinda gone viral."

I sat up straighter. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me," she laughed. "You're all over my For You page. And trust me, honey, you're about to have a lot more eyes on that ranch than you planned for."

I hadn't posted much, so I was more than a little confused. Frowning, I opened the app on my phone, my fingers moving on autopilot. When my notifications loaded, my jaw nearly hit the floor.

The video I'd posted of me cutting cattle with Metallic Cat, set to Luke Bryan's That's My Kind of Night, had exploded. Over five million views. At least that many shares. Hundreds of duets. My stomach flipped as I scrolled through the comments—thousands of them—people freaking out, asking questions, calling me a badass, a cowboy Barbie, even a Living the Cowboy dream.

"Holy shit." My breath caught as I spotted a name with a blue checkmark. I clicked on it, eyes going wide. "Luke Bryan stitched this!"

"Told you," Laramie practically sang on the other end of the line. "You're TikTok famous."

I sat there, still staring at the screen, my brain struggling to catch up. "I don't know what to do with that information."

"Enjoy it, sweetheart. And maybe start planning merch," she teased.

I ignored her, clicking on the stitched video, trying to figure out what the hell I should comment. Something cool? Casual? Was there an etiquette for interacting with country music royalty?

I tapped the little heart on the video, exhaling sharply. "Well, guess I better figure out how to be a social media star overnight."

"Let me know if you need any help, I need to get trending too," she laughed.

"We can come up with something, girl," I told her. "What should I post next?"

"I'm coming that way later tonight," she said. "Check what's trending and we can add a little Yellowstone flair to it."

"Sounds like a plan." As I ended the call, excitement and nerves hit me all at once. I'd gotten attention before, mainly from the rodeo scene, but this was different. People who wouldn't normally pay attention were watching now, and that felt like something bigger.

I had almost forgotten that I'd asked Randy for help when my phone rang again.

As soon as I saw his name on the screen, I remembered, and my expression shifted. "Hello?"

"Hey, Alex… You said your dad was looking to hire Riggins?" he asked. "That's gonna be a problem since he's serving two consecutive life sentences, no chance of parole. So what's the real reason you wanted me to look into him? No bullshit this time."

I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself. "I don't want to press this if it turns out to be nothing. But I think he's responsible for my dad getting shot and my sister nearly getting blown up. We don't have any connection to him, so maybe someone he knows planted the idea in his head."

"That's possible," Randy said after a beat. "Look, I'll send you his inmate records. Go through them, and if a name jogs your memory, let me know. But don't go off half-cocked and try to handle this yourself."

"I never do anything half-cocked," I replied, a little grin creeping into my voice. "It's either fully cocked or not at all."

"Right," Randy said, his voice tight with a little amusement. "I'll send you the files. Just be careful, Alex."

"I'll let you know if something clicks," I said, already thinking ahead to what might lie in those records.

"Sending it to your email now," he said, "I suppose I should say congratulations on your TikTok success or whatever."

I raised an eyebrow. "I never would have suspected you were a TikTok guy."

He let out a short laugh, "I have teenage girls. It's hard to avoid the stuff they're into. They've been watching your video on repeat for days. I'm pretty sure they know all the lyrics to 'That's My Kind of Night' by heart now."

I chuckled, leaning back in my chair. "At least I know you raised them with good taste. But hey, if that's the worst thing they're learning from me, I think I'm doing okay."

"You're probably right," he said, "But if you ever need tips on dealing with the social media craze, I'm your guy."

"I'll keep that in mind," I said with a grin, "Though right now, I'm more focused on getting to the bottom of some things with Riggins. I'll let you know if I find anything interesting."

"Good luck with that," he replied, his tone a little more serious.

I laughed, the sound a little lighter than before. "Thanks, Randy. I appreciate it."

We exchanged a few more words before hanging up, and I sat back in my chair, feeling both a little more connected to the online world and a whole lot more determined to find the answers I needed.

I searched through the information Randy had sent me, my mind spinning with each line I read. Nothing was clicking. I wasn't sure I'd tell him if I found something—there was a way my family handled things, and it didn't involve playing by the rules of the law.

Then, as I scrolled through a list of Riggins' former cellmates, one name stood out like a flashing red sign. It felt like the air had been sucked out of my lungs.

Garret Randall. Jamie's biological father.

Did this mean Beth was right? I didn't want to believe it. I knew my brother. But in this twisted mess, maybe she was more right than I wanted to admit. One thing I knew for sure—Jamie would never target me or Kayce. That wasn't his way. But somehow, we'd both become pawns in a game I wasn't even sure I understood.

I needed to know for sure.

I ran a hand down my face, the weight of it pressing against me. To confront Jamie with this directly… but tonight wasn't the night for that battle. It felt too raw, too volatile. I had to wait.

I closed the laptop and stood, trying to shake off the dread creeping over me. I needed a distraction, and there was one place I could go where I knew my mind would be pulled away from all this. The bunkhouse.

When I stepped inside, the familiar smell of smoke and cards hit me. Ryan and the guys were all gathered around the table, half focused on their hands.

I smiled softly, leaning over to peck his cheek. "I thought I'd find you here," I said, amused. "You do remember you don't sleep here anymore, right?"

Ryan glanced up, a grin tugging at his lips. "You miss me already?" He raised an eyebrow playfully.

"Not at all," I teased, settling into the chair next to him. "I just figured I'd come remind you of what your bed looks like."

"Hey girl, how you doing?" I said to Mia who was sitting at the table.

"I'm alright been running the rodeo, you know how it is," she said, I nodded.

"Alright, back to the game," Colby said, "Alright, let's not overbet the pot here."

"Forty," Ryan tossed in his chips calm and cool.

"Betting like you made the flush," Lloyd said. I glanced at the table and watched Ryan's hands over his cards.

"That's because I did make the flush," Ryan smiled wide.

"No because if you had the flush you'd be acting like you didn't make the flush," Cobly stated, "you're just trying to put me off of my flush."

The tension at the table shifted, a familiar game of bluff and strategy in full swing.

"Are we really doing this?" Mia smirked, leaning back in her chair, arms crossed. "I've seen better poker faces at a charity event."

"That is absolutely ass backwards," Ryan told him, "I'm begging you to match the pot. Daddy needs a new pair of shoes."

"Let me see your face?" Jake asked as he scanned Ryan's expression, "You are so full of shit again." And he tossed his cards on the table

"If he's bluffing why are you folding?" I asked.

"Cause I ain't got shit either," he said, "and I don't have a rich fiance to cover my losses."

Ryan's grin only widened, the tension in the room shifting to a different kind of amusement. "Smart move, Jake. At least you know when to walk away."

Mia chuckled, her eyes glinting with mischief. "Rich fiancé, huh? That's one way to look at it."

I raised an eyebrow, teasing, "So what's the plan, Jake? Gonna beg your lady for a bailout, or are you gonna tough it out like the rest of us?"

Jake shot me a look, a grin tugging at his lips. "Nah, I'm good. Just like to remind Ryan that not everyone's got someone else to save 'em from their bad decisions."

Teeter leaned back in her chair with a sigh, stretching her arms overhead. "I'm done, too," she said, a touch of finality in her voice as she tossed her cards onto the table.

Mia's eyes glinted with a mischievous spark, and she tossed in a few more chips, her voice sharp but playful. "You know what? I'm gonna raise you forty 'cause you're lying, and that's not nice."

Ryan's calm façade cracked for just a second, his fingers hesitating as he glanced down at his cards. He lifted the corners of his hand, his expression momentarily betraying a hint of surprise.

"Alright, let's put the man to a decision," Colby laughed, his voice laced with the kind of tension only poker could bring.

"I've already made my decision," Ryan shot back with a grin that bordered on cocky. "I'm all in."

Mia matched his move instantly. "Me too." The air around the table thickened. It was down to just the two of them now, and all eyes were on the final showdown.

"Turn 'em over," Lloyd said, his voice low with anticipation.

Ryan flashed a sly smile before flipping over his cards with a flourish. "Bye," he said, his voice dripping with confidence. "Ace, King, Seven, Jack—all diamonds."

Mia stared at the cards, the tension between them palpable. She let out a slow breath, a smirk tugging at the corners of her lips. "Okay, so you weren't lying," she said with mock admiration. "But, gee, all I have is this Ace and this Seven."

Ryan's eyes darted between his cards and Mia's, disbelief creeping into his expression. He glanced at the pile in the center, doing the math in his head, but the realization hit him too late.

"She went and dry fucked 'em right there, didn't she?" Teeter burst out laughing, her voice thick with amusement.

Ryan's smirk didn't waver. "Didn't you three girls get fired?" he shot back, raising an eyebrow in playful challenge.

Laramie's voice was full of mock indignation as she crossed her arms. "He didn't say we couldn't come back."

Ryan leaned forward, his grin widening. "That's exactly what being fired means. It means you're not supposed to come back. Ever."

Mia leaned back in her chair, tapping her fingers on the table as she shot him a playful look. "So if I get fired from McDonald's, I can't ever go back to McDonald's and get something to eat?"

The table fell silent for a moment, then I glanced over at Ryan, raising an eyebrow. "She has a point, cowboy."

Ryan shook his head with a bemused smirk. "She'd have a point if we sold hamburgers, baby."

Colby, ever the instigator, piped up with a chuckle. "Technically, we kinda do make hamburgers around here. Just a little more...customized." He grinned, gesturing toward the pile of chips and cards that had become the center of their heated game.

The group erupted in laughter, the tension of the game easing into a mix of teasing and camaraderie. Ryan, however, didn't let up. "Next time, Mia, I'm calling you out. You won't catch me off guard again."

Mia's smile was sharp and knowing. "We'll see about that."

The bunkhouse door creaked open, its familiar groan drawing everyone's attention.

"Hey!" Jake called out. I turned to see Jimmy sauntering through the doorway, looking as unbothered as ever.

"Well, well, look who it is," I grinned, giving him a warm smile.

"It's the Texican," Lloyd added, leaning back in his chair, the edges of a smirk pulling at his lips.

"How y'all doing?" Jimmy asked, his eyes scanning the room as he took a casual step inside. Mia stiffened, her gaze dropping to the table. I could feel the unease radiating off her—her last encounter with Jimmy hadn't exactly ended on friendly terms.

"We're all doing great," Colby replied, his tone light, though his eyes twinkled with a hint of mischief. "Everyone except for Ryan."

"Fuck you," Ryan shot back, his voice dripping with mock indignation.

Colby leaned back in his chair, arms folded, and flashed a grin at Ryan. "If you don't want to keep mooching off your fiancé, maybe you should look into one of those payday loans."

I couldn't resist the jab. "You've got me second-guessing that joint checking account," I smirked, giving Ryan a wink. "Gotta be more responsible with your money, cowboy."

Ryan's eyes narrowed, but he couldn't help the amused chuckle that escaped him. "Fuck off."

Lloyd leaned toward Jimmy, a casual grin spreading across his face. "See? Same ol' shit around here. Pull up a chair."

Jimmy looked over his shoulder, smirking. "Actually, I'm gonna need two chairs." He stepped aside, revealing a pretty dark-haired woman who walked in behind him, looking a bit hesitant but confident.

"Ohhh," the bunkhouse muttered collectively, the realization setting in.

Jake raised an eyebrow, glancing between Mia, Jimmy, and his new girl. "That's gonna go over like a fart in church," he muttered under his breath.

Jimmy, clearly proud of his announcement, grinned. "Everyone, this is Emily," he said, motioning to the woman beside him. "She's a vet down at the Sixes and—uh…she's my fiancée."

"Oh shit," Jake said under his breath, his eyes widening.

I caught a glimpse of Laramie out of the corner of my eye. She looked at Walker, mouthing a sharp "Fuck."

Mia's expression shifted from uncomfortable to pure fury in an instant. Without warning, she shot up from her seat and lunged across the table, slamming her fist into Jimmy's jaw with a savage force.

Before anyone could react, Emily's fist was flying, landing a solid punch square in Mia's face.

"No, no, no! No fighting!" Ryan shouted, scrambling to his feet, panic in his voice.

"Let them fight," Colby said casually, not even looking up from the game. "They don't even work here."

Ryan stood frozen, unsure of how to intervene. Meanwhile, the guys were all watching with keen interest, placing bets on who would win the fight.

Mia, undeterred by the punch, shoved Emily onto the table, her fists pounding down relentlessly. But before things could escalate further, Jimmy had enough. He grabbed Mia by the waist, lifting her off the table and dragging her out of the bunkhouse with surprising strength.

"Well, shit," Ryan muttered, a wide grin spreading across his face. "That escalated quickly."

I quickly moved to Emily's side, helping her off the table. "You alright?"

"Always good to exercise after a long drive," she replied with a quick, wry smile. "What are the chances there's some whiskey in here?"

Lloyd and Walker both answered in unison, their voices thick with approval. "Chances are good."

Lloyd handed Emily the bottle of whiskey with a knowing grin. "Nice hook," he said, clearly impressed with her swing.

I gestured toward the chair that Mia had just vacated. "Have a seat," I offered. "That one's free now."

Emily sat down with a small chuckle, clearly unfazed by the chaos. "Thanks. What's the game?"

Ethan, ever the easygoing one, shrugged. "Whatever you want it to be."

The tension in the air slowly began to shift, as the fight was quickly forgotten, replaced by a new round of teasing and laughter. The atmosphere in the bunkhouse lightened, and though things had been intense for a moment, everyone was ready to move on.

—-

The morning air felt warmer than usual, the sun just beginning to break through the horizon, casting a soft glow across the land. It wasn't quite hot yet, but the promise of heat was in the air. I needed something to distract me before I faced Jamie, something to occupy my mind—anything to delay that conversation. The ranch was always there, though. Always ready for work, never needing excuses.

One of the cows was sick, pneumonia, they said. That was enough to keep me busy for now. The ranch always came first.

I saddled up and rode out with the cattle. The rhythmic sound of hooves hitting the dirt felt grounding, familiar, as I focused on the herd. But there was something off, something different, about this morning. And that something was Jimmy. He rode alongside us, his presence surprising and… comforting in a way I hadn't expected. He sat a little taller in his saddle, like the weight of time and experience had settled more firmly on his shoulders. Becoming a man does that to a person, I thought.

"Hey, start looking for that son of a bitch!" Rip called from ahead, his voice steady but urgent.

"He might be laid up in them trees," Jake suggested, scanning the horizon.

"I got him," Jimmy responded, his voice filled with quiet confidence.

"You ain't been in Texas that long," Lloyd remarked with a chuckle, though his words lacked any true malice.

"Let him try, Lloyd," I said, my voice firm but encouraging. "Go on, Jimmy."

Without missing a beat, Jimmy pushed the sick cow away from the rest of the herd, expertly guiding it with a practiced hand. He swung his lasso high in the air, the rope spinning with the ease of someone who'd done it a thousand times. Rip followed closely behind, just in case, but there was something about the way Jimmy handled himself that made me feel sure.

The lasso flew through the air and landed with perfect precision around the cow's neck. Rip's lasso came next, catching the cow by the leg with another clean throw. The two men worked together like clockwork, both in sync, as if they'd been at this for years.

I dismounted quickly, my boots hitting the ground with a solid thud, moving swiftly to help. The cow struggled beneath their ropes, but with the teamwork of both men, they managed to hold it down. I crouched next to them, pulling the syringe from my pocket and giving the cow the antibiotics it desperately needed.

Jimmy's voice broke through the moment, his tone full of curiosity. "He sure didn't run like he had pneumonia."

Jake looked over at him with a grin. "You toss one hell of a loop, Jimmy."

"Yeah," Lloyd chimed in, nodding approvingly. "You may make a team roper yet."

Jimmy flashed a grin, his pride evident but not overdone. "Thanks. Glad to be back."

I watched them all, the easy camaraderie settling around us like an old, well-worn jacket. It felt like a moment of peace in a world that often seemed too busy. But there was still that nagging feeling in the back of my mind—Jamie was waiting. And the ranch wasn't the only thing I needed to face today.

—-

"You gonna practice ropin' with us?" Teeter called over as we made our way to the corral, the familiar clink of boots and the earthy smell of the ranch filling the air.

"Fuck, I can't think of a better thing to do," I replied, my voice light but edged with relief. My confrontation with Jamie could wait—just a little longer. The ranch always had a way of pulling me back in, distracting me from everything else that needed dealing with.

I caught a glimpse of Ryan and Colby leaning against the fence, their hands wrapped around cans of beer. That was their chore for the afternoon—guarding the cooler. A job they'd somehow managed to turn into an art form.

Jake was on the other side, letting a steer out of the chute. Walker and Ethan were already on it, charging after the animal with practiced precision. They brought it down with ease, their teamwork seamless. The sound of hooves, the rattle of ropes, and the rush of the chase made it all feel natural.

"Hey, sweet tits, you ain't ropin'?" Teeter shouted, her voice a mix of teasing and challenge as she looked over at Colby.

"We're on cooler patrol," Colby called back, flashing a grin. His laid-back attitude was easy to spot, even from a distance.

"Come on, don't be intimidated," Teeter teased, stepping forward with her lasso ready. "You gotta come up here and rope with mama."

Ryan shot a smirk in Colby's direction. "Yeah, get out there and rope with mama. This cooler's gonna be safe with me."

"That joke's getting old," Colby muttered, crossing his arms as he leaned against the fence, not even bothering to hide his amusement.

"Not even a little," Ryan shot back, grinning like he'd just won a prize.

"Like super old," Colby replied, rolling his eyes.

Ryan's grin didn't fade. "They age like fine wine."

Colby shook his head, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "There are turtles that live two hundred and fifty years. Your jokes are older."

"Are you two a couple?" Emily asked, her voice laced with genuine curiosity.

Laramie and I couldn't help it—we burst out laughing at the question. It was a familiar joke, but the timing always got us.

I shot Emily a sly grin, resting my hand on my hip. "Oh, don't worry, sweetheart. The charming one with jokes is already taken."

"C'mon," Teeter called out to me, her voice full of fire. "Let's show 'em some girl power."

"What'd she say?" Emily asked.

I grinned, feeling the rush of adrenaline already building. I readied my horse, watching Jake carefully as he prepped to release another steer. Teeter and I exchanged a quick, knowing glance, and then—just like that—the chute opened, and the steer burst out. We took off after it, our horses kicking up dust as we moved in perfect sync.

"Hey, fucking get 'em, baby!" Ryan's voice rang out from behind us. I couldn't help but wonder if that was his way of pushing back against the whole "he and Colby are a couple" talk.

Teeter made the first move, catching the steer by the neck with a clean throw. I swung my lasso, snaring it around the heel with a quick snap. "Whoo!" I yelled, a rush of excitement surging through me as we brought the steer to the ground.

"Up next, Old Timers!" Ryan called from the sidelines.

"Old timers?" Jake shot back, raising an eyebrow. "I'm only 36."

"36? I thought you were like fifty," Ryan teased, laughter bubbling up in his voice.

Jake shot him a look. "You better watch yourself, boy."

"If you mother fuckers drink that cooler dry, I'm gonna be roping you next," Rip chimed in, his tone dry, though there was a glint of amusement in his eyes.

Ryan smirked, clearly unbothered. "Bring it on."

Lloyd and Jake charged after the next steer, moving like it was second nature. They took it down with such precision, it was like watching a well-oiled machine in action.

"How's that for old timer?" Jake called out, clearly proud of their effortless takedown.

"Does it hurt your arthritis when you swing that rope?" Colby teased, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Rip and Jimmy were up next, following the steer with ease. Rip caught the head with a sharp yank, while Jimmy wrapped his lasso around the heel, bringing it down just as smoothly.

"Look at Ol' Jimmy rope!" Walker called out, his voice full of approval.

"I don't understand the world anymore," Ryan muttered under his breath as I rode up beside him.

"Dogs are purring. Cats are barking. I don't understand anything," Colby added, shaking his head as though everything had gone completely sideways.

"You two are fucking crazy, you know that?" Laramie shot back, eyes narrowing in disbelief.

"Barrel racer girl just called us crazy," Ryan said, giving her an exaggerated look of offense.

"I just don't know how to respond," Colby replied, deadpan. Without missing a beat, both of them took a simultaneous swig of their beers.

I couldn't help but grin at the pair. "I'm starting to worry about you two," I teased, giving them a knowing look. "Do we need to make space for Colby in our bed?"

Ryan's smirk deepened as he leaned in closer. "Only if you're in the middle, baby," he shot back, his voice low and playful.

"Now that sounds like a good time," I said with a grin, sliding between the two of them and casually hopping up onto the fence.

Walker limped over, taking a seat on the cooler and propping his leg up. He placed a bag of ice on it, wincing slightly as he adjusted.

"How the hell did you hurt your knee roping a steer?" Colby asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I didn't hurt it roping the steers," Walker shot back with a smirk, "I hurt it fucking your mother the other night."

Colby's face went from confused to mock outrage in a second. "You know what, fuck you, first it's Jimmy, now you?"

I couldn't resist. "Sounds like your mom gets around," I teased, tossing a wink at Colby as I leaned back against the fence, thoroughly enjoying the chaos.

Colby shot me a look, clearly trying to figure out whether he was gonna laugh or punch me. I held my ground, waiting to see how far I could push it before the inevitable retaliations started flying.

The sound of the dinner bell saved me from whatever payback was coming my way.

"I've been ringing this fucking thing for an hour!" Gator hollered from the porch.

"Come join us, baby!" Teeter called back, grinning.

I glanced at my watch. It was getting late—I couldn't put off my confrontation with Jamie any longer. The moment I'd been dreading was here. With a sigh, I turned and followed Rip toward the main house, my stomach twisting.

I considered asking him for advice, but before I could open my mouth, Beth swept in, dressed less like she was sitting down for dinner and more like she was about to dance on top of the table for tips.

"Sorry I'm late," she said, brushing past me. "But before dinner, I've got a little business to take care of. Everybody outside."

"What business, honey?" Dad asked, brow furrowed. I looked between them, just as confused as he was.

"Let's go," Rip said simply, already moving toward the door.

I stepped outside, my confusion only growing when I spotted a priest standing under the tree in the front yard. A priest. We weren't even Catholic.

Beth turned to us, her expression set. "There's something I gotta do tomorrow," she said. "And I want to be a married woman when I do it."

I shook my head. "Beth, let's plan something. Do it right."

She barely spared me a glance. "I don't care about the wedding," she said. "You can throw the biggest one you want when you're ready. I just care about the marriage."

I sighed, nodding, because there was no talking her out of this.

Beth walked up to Rip. "We're getting married, alright?"

Rip let out a short laugh. "Beth, you are so fucking crazy," he muttered, shaking his head. "I thought you wanted to find a place that was just ours." He exhaled, then softened. "But if it makes you happy, I'm happy. Just need to grab two things real quick."

We watched as he jogged across the yard toward the bunkhouse, returning a moment later with Lloyd beside him.

The priest, looking increasingly confused, turned to me. "And you are?"

"A witness to this shit show," I said, then added, "but also her sister."

"And my maid of honor," Beth declared.

The priest frowned, then pointed at Lloyd. "And the groom?"

Beth smirked. "Big guy in the dark hat."

The priest turned to Lloyd. "Him?"

Lloyd chuckled. "I'm the best man."

"Right," the priest muttered, rubbing his temples like he was regretting agreeing to this. He turned to Lloyd. "Okay, you stand by him." Then he looked at me. "You go down first."

He motioned toward my father. "You'll walk her down the aisle… to what would be an altar there."

I walked across the yard with Beth and Dad, everything feeling chaotic and rushed—just like my sister.

Before taking my place at the front, I hugged her. Then I turned and walked ahead of them, standing opposite Rip and Lloyd, watching as my father led Beth toward us.

"Who presents the bride?" the priest asked as Beth and Dad came to a stop in front of him.

"Me," Dad said, his voice rough with emotion. "I'm her father."

He kissed Beth's cheek, lingering just a second longer than usual, like he was holding on to the moment. Then, with a deep breath, he stepped aside, trading places with Rip.

Rip slid his hand into Beth's without hesitation, pulling her closer.

The priest glanced around at us before sighing. "Normally, I'd say a few words about the couple, but since I have no idea who you people are, we'll just move on to the vows."

A small laugh rippled through the group, but Beth and Rip barely seemed to hear it. They were already locked in, hands clasped, eyes never wavering from each other as they spoke their vows.

I leaned against Dad, watching, feeling a tightness rise in my throat. Damn it. I blinked fast, but the tears still welled up.

The priest cleared his throat. "Are there rings?"

"No," Beth said quickly. "No rings."

"Hold on," Rip interjected, reaching into his pocket. He pulled out a small, delicate ring and held it up.

Beth's breath caught.

"This was my mother's," Rip said. "We didn't have much, Beth—we were poor. But it's yours now. And so am I."

Beth didn't say a word. She just held out her hand, letting him slip it onto her finger.

The priest nodded, his expression softening. "Then by the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife."

"Thank you for doing this, Father," Dad said, shaking the priest's hand.

The priest gave him a wry smile. "Don't worry, I won't press charges."

Dad's brows pulled together. "Charges?"

"Sorry, Daddy," Beth cut in, completely unbothered. "I had to kidnap him."

Dad let out a deep sigh, rubbing a hand over his face like he was reevaluating every life choice that led to this moment.

The priest adjusted his robe. "If I could get a ride back to my church…"

"I can take you," I offered. "I was just about to head out anyway."

Beth shot me a knowing look, but for once, she didn't say anything. We both knew where I was going. And we both knew I couldn't put it off any longer.

I dropped the priest off at the church. Then drove. I could have called Jamie and asked him. But he would either ignore my call or lie to me again.

I'd make Jamie lie to my face.

I pulled my car to a stop in front of Jamie's ranch. The one he never invited me to. It was his secret life. A man I didn't know stepped out on the porch. Watching me. I pulled a pistol out of my glove box and tucked in the back of my belt.

"You're him," I stated as I climbed out of the cab of my truck. I locked my eyes with his. He looked weary, his life was hard. And he had clawed his way into a better one.

He didn't answer right away, just studied me like he was trying to decide if I was a threat. Maybe I was.

His hand hovered near his belt, close enough to whatever weapon he had tucked there. "Who's askin'?"

I let out a slow breath, keeping my shoulders loose. "I'm his sister."

His posture stiffened just a little.

"I need to see Jamie," I said, taking a step forward.

The man didn't move, didn't blink. "He ain't home."

Silence stretched between us.

I sighed and reached back, just enough to remind him I was armed too. "You gonna make me stand out here all night, or you gonna let me in?"

"Jamie should be back soon," he said. "Why don't you come around back and we can talk?"

I nodded, as I followed him to the back of the house. "You look just like her," he said as he looked me over, "the woman who stole my son from me."

"He was never yours," I reminded him, "all you do is take. You took his mother from him. And now you're sucking the life from him too."

He sat on a log looking out on the land, "I got this for him. All of this, without the Duttons."

"Oh, so you're paying the mortgage on this place every month?" I eyed him looking out at the horizon. "I doubt that."

He shook his head, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "That's where you're wrong."

I arched a brow. "Am I?"

"This world ain't black and white, sweetheart," he said, his voice low, almost amused. "One day, you'll understand that."

I let out a dry chuckle. "I understand plenty."

We stared at each other, the weight of unspoken words pressing between us. He thought he'd won something. He thought he had Jamie, had his loyalty.

But I wasn't here to argue. I was here to remind Jamie of exactly who this man was.

He smiled, a slow, knowing grin like he had me cornered. "Jamie has everything he's ever wanted since he stopped being a part of your family," he said. "He's got the second most powerful office in the state. A child."

The last word hit me like a punch to the gut. My fingers twitched at my sides. "He has a kid?"

His smirk deepened. "Guess you don't know Jamie as well as you thought." He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "I'm sixty-one years old. And these last few months? They made all sixty years of fucking hell I endured worth it." He looked at me then, his gaze sharp, cutting. "You Duttons have deceived him into thinking he's a bad man."

I let out a slow breath, steadying the fire rising in my chest. "Jamie's not a bad man," I said, my voice firm. "I've always seen him for who he could be. Even when the people around him try to suck all that goodness out of him." I stepped closer, locking eyes with him. "He's a good man. And he deserves better than either of the fathers he was given."

His smirk faltered. Just for a second. But I caught it.

He turned away, looking back at the horizon like it held some kind of answer. Like it could save him.

I blinked, my decision made.

In one swift motion, I pulled the gun from the back of my belt, leveled it at his head, and pulled the trigger.

The shot echoed through the open land.

He slumped forward, dead before he hit the ground.

Jamie's face was pale, his lips slightly parted like he was struggling to breathe. His eyes flickered from me to the lifeless body on the ground, then back again.

"Alex," his voice barely made it past his throat.

"She was gonna make you do it, wasn't she?" I kept my eyes forward, unwilling to meet his gaze just yet.

His silence was all the confirmation I needed.

"What do you mean?" he finally asked, but I heard it—the crack in his voice, the fear, the shame.

"Beth." I exhaled slowly. "That's why she went to see you today. She gave you a choice—kill him, or she'd kill you. Or she'd send Rip to do it."

Jamie's breath hitched. "How did you know?" His voice wavered, barely above a whisper.

I finally turned to look at him, my expression calm but firm. "I know a lot of things, Jamie. I pay attention." I took a step closer, forcing him to meet my eyes. "No one will tell me outright, so I have to dig. And when the pieces finally fell into place, I knew."

His jaw clenched, emotions warring inside him.

"I knew he was behind it." I gestured vaguely toward the body without looking. "And I couldn't let her make you kill him. You're not a killer, Jamie. I saw what happened to you last time."

I swallowed, feeling the weight of what I had done settle in my bones.

"So," I let out a slow breath, steadying myself, "I became a killer for you."

I sat in the passenger seat of Jamie's SUV. He didn't tell me where we were taking the body. I already knew. I hadn't seen it before with my own eyes. But I knew the train station was there. The place was deserted. A valley in the middle of nowhere, no sheriff, no witnesses. It was a place where everyone from states around came to bury their secrets.

We didn't speak, what could you say after that. I sat there as Jamie climbed out and walked to the back and opened the tailgate. He drug the body of his father to edge of the cliff.

Headlights blinded me from the rearview.

"Stop, turn around," I heard Beth's voice. Jamie turned to face her as she snapped a photo with her phone.

Jamie froze, the weight of the body still in his grip, his breath coming in short, sharp bursts. The glow of Beth's phone screen lit up her smirk—satisfied, victorious. The look of someone who had just won the war.

"You're fucking mine now," she said, tucking her phone into her coat pocket.

The air was thick with dust and the scent of disturbed earth, the valley stretching out like an open grave beneath us. No sheriff, no cameras, no one to hear a scream. Just us and the weight of what we had done.

I pushed open the SUV door and stepped out into the headlights, gravel crunching under my boots.

"It wasn't him," I said, voice steady, even. "It was me."

Beth's smirk faltered for half a second, her sharp eyes snapping to mine.

"What?" she scoffed.

I took a slow step forward, closing the space between us. "Jamie didn't pull the trigger. I did."

Beth studied me, trying to gauge whether I was lying. She glanced at Jamie, who stood stiff as a corpse himself, his eyes darting between us, silent, waiting.

"Bullshit," she spat.

"Believe what you want," I shrugged, "but if you think blackmailing him will make up for all the ways you think he's hurt you, you're more pathetic than I thought."

Beth's nostrils flared, her fingers tightening into fists at her sides. "He is pathetic," she seethed. "He's weak. And now, thanks to you, he's even more of a liability."

"Then let him go," I challenged, tilting my head. "If he's so weak, so useless, walk away. Leave him alone."

She laughed, shaking her head. "You don't get it, do you?"

"No, I do," I said, stepping even closer. "You don't hate Jamie. You need him. Because without him, you have nothing left to fight. And if you stop fighting, Beth—" I let my voice soften just enough to twist the knife. "What's left of you?"

Her expression flickered, just for a second, something almost vulnerable surfacing before she crushed it.

I held her gaze.

Then, slowly, she turned back to Jamie. "Get rid of it." She motioned toward the body at his feet.

Jamie swallowed hard, looking at me as if searching for reassurance.

I gave him a nod.

Beth turned on her heel, climbing back into her car without another word.

Jamie let out a slow, shaky breath.

And together, we finished what I started.