She took Peyton because she can be used as leverage. Against me. Against John. Against my father.
Fuck, Laurel can use her against the entire fucking family because she knows I will go to hell and back for Peyton.
Headlights flare in the drive.
I turn as a familiar black SUV rolls to a stop, gravel spitting beneath the tires. The door to the back opens and my father stops out, posture rigid, expression carved from stone.
He takes in the open door, armored men, and the tension in the air before his gaze snaps to mine.
“How bad?” he asks.
I don’t soften it.
“Richard is dead,” I tell him. “Throat slit. Laurel’s gone.”
My father exhales slowly, like he is bracing against something he’s known was coming for a long time.
“So she finally made her move.”
“You knew?” I snap, anger flaring hot. “You fucking knew she was a traitor?”
My father’s eyes harden. “I had my suspicions,” he admits coldly. “But nothing I could ever fully prove.”
John crosses his arms against his chest and stares down the man who has been his best friend since childhood. “She has my daughter.”
He closes his eyes for a brief moment, a crack in his armor, then opens them again, steel reforged.
“She won’t kill her,” he says firmly. “Not yet.”
“No,” I agree. “She wants something.”
“Money,” my father informs me. “When Sadie ran all those years ago, she took at least a million from her mother’s family trust.”
I step closer, lowering my voice. “How do you know that?”
He meets my stare, father to son, power to power.
“Because I helped her take it,” he admits, his voice softening as he glances over at John. “I’m the one who gave her access to the trust and helped her run.”
A growl releases itself from deep inside John’s chest.
“Why the hell would you do that?” John roars angrily.
My father doesn’t flinch at John’s anger. That alone tells me how deep this goes.
“Because Laurel would have killed her,” he says quietly. “And Peyton.”
The air thickens around us. Even the men on the perimeter go still, like prey sensing a predator shift its weight.
John steps forward, rage rolling off him in waves. “You’re telling me you knew Sadie was pregnant when she ran? You helped her? That you must have known Laurel helped her and you let her walk free inside of our family all this time?”
“I didn’tlether,” my father snaps back, finally letting steel creep into his voice. He rarely pulls command with John, but I am seeing it now. “I watched her. I limited her reach. I kept her contained as best I could without starting a war I wasn’t prepared to finish.”
“Is Sadie the one who killed Emma?” John asks with a snarl.
I turn to my father, eyes widening. He’s never told me the specifics of what went on between Sadie and John all those years ago. I was a kid and he always said it was on the past.
“No,” my father sighs. “I believe it was Laurel. Everything between you and Sadie, from the beginning, has been Laurel manipulating her daughter to gain control.”
