And loyalty, around here, comes before survival. Loyaltyissurvival.
My stomach clenches as I get out of bed. I know what’s coming and I’ll deal with whatever punishment Roman saddles me with.
I drag myself into the shower, washing quickly. By the time I’m done and dressed in my usual—worn jeans, flannel, andsteel-toed boots—I’ve pushed the anxiety about this meeting so far down I can almost forget it. Almost.
I pause in front of the mirror to check my appearance: square jaw dusted with scruff, eyes too sharp, nose bent from one of many fights with Kade. Bishop blood through and through.
I’ve faced a number of monsters in my life, but none as cruel and callous as my father. Facing off against him doesn’t scare me, it’s what happens afterward that makes my blood run cold. He always has a way of retaliating when we stand up to him that is more often than not ten times worse than the act of speaking out. The punishment also usually hurts the people I care about more than me. My brothers, my mother, and once he finds out she exists, Saint.
I can handle pain, can handle his rage, but I can’t handle watching the people I care about get put through the wringer because of something I did. I have to protect them, and Saint, at all costs. Even more so since she didn’t sign up for this shit like my family members.
But did we sign up for it?My brothers and I being born into this shit show.
Outside, the ranch is quiet and I welcome the calm as I walk down to the barn. I start my day like any other, as if I don’t have someone handcuffed to a bed in the woods. I saddle my horse, a black gelding named Storm that no one else on the ranch can handle, and ride out for my early morning chores.
I check the fences. The eastern pastures stretch out before me as I ride, the sun just beginning to climb higher in the sky. This land has been Bishop territory for four generations, each acre paid for in blood and sacrifice.
My great-grandfather staked his claim with a rifle in one hand and gold in the other. My grandfather expanded it through marriages and mortgages that bent half the county to his will and my father turned it into an empire.
Someday, it will all be mine.
The weight of that legacy sits heavy as I guide Storm along the fence line, checking for breaks that will need mending later. Ranch work is never done, even for the oldest Bishop son.
Especially for the oldest Bishop son.
My father believes in the dignity of labor, in knowing every inch of what you own. It might be the one and only thing we agree on. Satisfied, I circle back toward the main house, crossing paths with a couple of the ranch hands.
They nod respectfully as I pass, none quite meeting my eye.
They know who I am. What I am.
The shadow of my father.
We all know it isn’t just my name that terrifies them. It’s what I do for him. It’s knowing that when you cross our family my eyes are the last you see before it’s over.
I dismount at the stables, handing Storm off to Miguel, the stable master who’s worked for us longer than I’ve been alive. He takes the reins without comment, though his dark eyes linger on my face a moment too long.
Can he see my betrayal written there?
No, of course not, my conscience is making me feel guilty. Reminding me of what I’ve done. I move on knowing if I keep my father waiting things will only get worse. Patience isn’t something God blessed him with. The main house stands like a fortress at the center of Bishop Ranch—three stories of timber and stone built by my great-grandfather.
Every son since has added to it, expanding the legacy, ensuring that the house, like the family, dominates the landscape. Is this what I really want for myself? I guess I’ve never thought of there being another option, anything beyond Black Hollow Creek.
I walk up the driveway, past my father’s black Escalade, noticing the mud splattered along its sides.Was he out last night? Where did he go?
I can only assume he went out to double-check the job, probably because Wayne ran straight to his office and spilled his guts out. I made myself look guilty by going straight home and to bed instead of checking in with him. Protocol said I needed to check in but I had to put some time between what happened and stashing Saint away.
Now I’ll suffer the consequences.
The front door opens before I reach it.
My mother greets me, her slender frame dwarfed by the massive oak door. Once upon a time, Elena Bishop was considered the most beautiful woman in three counties. Thirty years of marriage to my father has worn her down to something fragile and watchful. Not that she’s been much of a mother all these years. She’s witnessed countless“lessons”at Roman’s hands and did nothing but stand by and watch.
Trapped inside her own trauma.
Like a bird that’s been caged too long.
“Calder.” She doesn’t quite meet my eyes. Never does anymore. “It’s good to see you. Your father is waiting in his office.”
