“If they want a war, they’ll get one,” Ace growls as he stares out at the pool party below. He’s keeping an eye on Peyton for me, making sure Laura and her pill-popping cronies leave her alone.
My hand curls around the mug of coffee in my hand, the heat grounding me in a way nothing else can. My father is a ruthless man. He doesn’t have mercy on those who cross him and neither do I.
The Weylons will learn.
Hell, the whole damn valley will.
I am the son he has prepared to step into his role. The next leader of Black Diamond Ranch. He trained me to be ruthless. Merciless. My legacy isn’t only about the ranch. It runs deeper than that. A darkness my father keeps from Jackson and my sister Hadley. They know what goes on behind the scenes. Who we truly are. They’ve always known. It’s been our life since the moment we were born.
Jackson isn’t soft by any means, even if he does take after our mother. But our father promised our mother on her deathbed he would keep Jackson from the darker roles inside our family.
“Nothing is hitting the radar,” Jackson sneers as his fingers fly over the keyboard. “No black-market deals. No dark site registrations. Wherever they are selling, it isn’t the usual channels.”
Fuck. My father isn’t going to take this well. He wants answers.
“Then dig deeper,” I say, the words coming out low, clipped. “If they’re smart enough to stay off the radar, they’re smart enough to leave a trail somewhere else. Find it.”
Jackson leans back in the chair, shooting me a look. “You think I don’t know that? This is ghost work, Colter. Either they’ve got someone feeding them cover, or they’re operating under a name we don’t know yet.”
“Or both,” Ace mutters from the window, not taking his eyes off Peyton. He doesn’t have to say what we’re both thinking—if the Weylons are getting help, it’s from someone with deep pockets and a bigger agenda.
I drain the rest of my coffee and set the mug down hard enough to make Jackson glance up again. “Doesn’t matter. We’ll smoke them out. And when we do…” My voice drops, thepromise of violence threading through every syllable. “…we’ll make an example they won’t forget.”
Dad would want this handled quietly. No headlines, no heat. But quiet doesn’t always mean clean.
“Colter.” Jackson’s voice cuts into my thoughts, serious now. “If we find them… what’s the play?”
I meet his gaze. “The play is we take everything. Their contracts. Their shipments. Their customers. And when they’re stripped bare, we burn whatever’s left.”
Ace smirks faintly, but it’s not amusement—it’s approval.
My eyes drift back to the window, locking on Peyton again. She’s laughing at something Tripp, one of my men, said but there’s a guardedness to it. Like she’s always measuring her surroundings, deciding what’s safe and what isn’t.
Every inch of me burns for her. She’s not ready to see the side of me coming for the Weylon’s. Hell, most people aren’t.
But this is the legacy I was built for. And no one—not the Weylon’s, not the valley, not even Peyton—is going to stand in my way. It’s why I watch her from a distance. Let John take the lead. I’m not good for her. Jackson would be better suited. He’s part of the family but will never be touched by the darkness like I have been.
“Keep working on it,” I tell Jackson. “Lee, get your sister out of here. We’re going to be shutting down the party.”
“Damn,” Lee mutters. “I was going to convince Melanie to let me and Jackson double team her.”
Jackson groans. “Oh, that would have been so nice.”
Ace snorts. “Why share when you can have different women?”
“It’s efficient,” Lee says, grinning like the devil.
I level them both with a look that could cut glass. “Save it. We’ve got bigger things to handle than whatever’s going on in your pants.”
Jackson rolls his eyes but turns back to the screen, fingers already moving. Lee, on the other hand, takes his sweet time getting up, stretching like a cat, clearly annoyed his fun’s about to get cut short.
From outside, I hear the muffled thump of bass and the shrieks of laughter. Jackson throws these parties nearly every weekend. There are perks. My men love all the desperate women willing to suck them off and ride their cocks for all to see. Hoping they will snag themselves one of the few.
“Shut it down in ten,” I tell Ace, my tone leaving no room for debate. “No one leaves without being seen out by one of our men.”
His brow lifts. “Expecting trouble?”
I take the coffee mug back in hand, letting the bitter heat anchor me again. “Expecting the Weylons to get sloppy. And when they do, I want eyes on every stranger that steps foot on this property.”
