A few days later,the pain has dulled into something manageable.
Not gone, but quieter. Like my body has accepted it isn’t dying anymore, even if it hasn’t forgiven what was done to it.
My arm is strapped tight against my side, wrapped and immobilized, the pull in my shoulder a constant reminder every time I move too fast. I hate it. The weakness. The slowness. But I hate the way Colter watches me flinch even more.
He’s been a constant presence the last few days, refusing to leave my side for any reason. Not that I hate it, but there are times I want some distance or not be waited on hand and foot. Or treated like a fragile doll.
Now, I’m sitting on the couch beside Colter, my good shoulder pressed into his arm. He hasn’t let more than an inch of space exist between us since I came downstairs. Like he is afraid something will grab me up in his own house. Across from us sit my father, Pace, and Colter’s father, Hudson.
It feels like a tribunal.
No one speaks at first.
There is a low hum outside of the house from the ranch hands. Somewhere in the house, a clock ticks. Normal sounds.Domestic sounds. They feel wrong in a room full of men who look like they’re deciding how much of the truth I’m allowed.
Pace is the first one I really look at.
My brother’s jaw is bruised yellow and purple, his knuckles split and still healing. He’s leaning forward, forearms braces on his knees, eyes fixed on the floor like if he looks at me too long, he might crack.
John…dad…looks like he’s aged in the last few days. His shoulders are slumped, hands clasped together so tightly his knuckles have gone white. This isn’t the man who barked orders at ranch hands or spoke to me like I was an inconvenience or a dark reminder of his past.
This is a man who almost lost his daughter.
Hudson Shaw sits back in his chair, posture relaxed but eyes sharp. He looks calm, as if he’s done this time and time again.
Colter shifts beside me, his thigh pressing more firmly against mine. A silent check-in.
I nod once.
“Okay,” I say, my voice steadier than I feel. “No more secrets. No more lies. You said there were things I need to know. So tell me thetruth.”
That opens the door.
Hudson exhales first. “Once we start, there’s no undoing it.”
“I’m aware,” I reply. “I’ve been living with half-answers my entire life and no answers since I arrived here.”
My father flinches at that.
Pace finally looks up, his gaze landing on me like he’s afraid I’ll disappear again.
“Peyton…what happened to you wasn’t your fault.”
“I know,” I say gently. “But maybe it would have been different if you had prepared me. Been honest with me.”
Hudson nods once, approving. “She’s right.”
Silence stretches again before my father speaks.
“People slap a lot of names on us,” my father starts. “Mob, Mafia, criminal empire. We don’t bother correcting them. We simply call itthe family. Because that is what we are. Not everyone shares blood, and that the point. Blood fails. Blood betrays. Family is chosen. And once you’re in, loyalty is the only thing that matters.
“It isn’t that we didn’t trust you, although that was part of it at first. But we told ourselves it was protection. That keeping you in the dark was love because telling you the truth about Sadie, or what we believed to be the truth, would break your heart.”
His voice breaks on the last word.
“But Laurel…” Hudson takes over, his tone colder. “Laurel changed everything. In all my years as head of the family, I have never had betrayal come from so close to home. Not like this. She took her knowledge from growing up in an affluent family and weaponized it.”
My stomach tightens.
