“Smart choice.” Holly's expression doesn't soften. “Now if you'll excuse me, I have an auction to wrap up.”
She brushes past me without another word.
Chance lingers.
“She's protective,” he says quietly. “Of Sierra. Of all of them.”
“I noticed.”
“Don't take it personally.” He squeezes my shoulder once, then lets go. “Just... don't prove her right.”
He follows his wife back into the crowd.
And I stand there, alone, watching the door Sierra walked through and wondering how the hell I'm going to fix what I just broke.
Chapter Thirty-One
Sierra
The darkroom isthe only place in this lodge where I can disappear.
No cameras. No brothers. No Tara Greene lurking around corners with her predatory smile.
Just red light, chemical trays, and the steady rhythm of creation.
I've been in here for... I don't know how long. Long enough that my eyes have fully adjusted to the safelight glow. Long enough that the familiar smell of developer and fixer has seeped into my skin.
Not long enough to stop hearing his voice.
You'd never approve that renovation, would you?
I press my palms flat against the counter. Breathe through it.
Gotta preserve history.
My mother's camera sits beside me. The one piece of her I've carried everywhere. The reason I do what Ido—freeze moments, protect legacies, save the things that matter before they slip away.
And he turned that into a weapon.
Your safe little distance from anything that actually matters.
My fingers curl around the metal edge.
The soft knock doesn’t surprise me. Three raps. Followed by a heavy silence where all I can hear is the heavy pumping of my broken heart.
“Sierra. It’s me.” The door muffling his low voice can’t hide the pain beneath it.
I want nothing more than to go to that door. Because the last time we were here, he left for close to a decade.
And everyday left a mark. An unseen tally only I knew about.
“I know you’re in there. The occupied sign is up.”
Of course it is. Because opening this door at the wrong moment could destroy hours of work.
Because I’ve been hiding in here specifically so I don’t have to look at him.
“I’m not coming in without permission.” His voice roughens. “But I’m not leaving either.”
