We.
The word is so simple, and it hits me like a prayer.
Before I can respond, my phone rings again.
Unknown number.
My stomach drops.
I glance at Delaney. She nods once, calm for both of us.
I answer. “Hawthorne.”
“Mr. Hawthorne,” a voice says—deep, controlled, the kind of voice that doesn’t waste syllables. “Dean Maddox.”
Something in me straightens. Not fear. Not exactly. Recognition.
This is a man who lives in the same world Gray lives in. The one where bad things happen and you don’t get to blink.
“Yeah,” I say. “Banks said you’d call.”
“He did.” Dean’s tone stays even. “First—glad Miss Coleman is safe. I heard about Quarry Road. That could’ve gone differently.”
My jaw clenches. “It didn’t.”
“No.” A beat. “Now, I run Maddox Security out of Saint Pierce. We do executive protection, recovery, missing persons, high-risk transport, personal security—depending on the client and the job. I’m putting together a new unit. Charlie Team.”
I glance at Delaney. She’s watching me like she’s trying not to breathe too loud.
Dean continues. “Banks Hawthorne spoke highly of you. Your background. Your discipline. Your adaptability.”
I almost laugh. “He’s biased.”
“Maybe.” Dean doesn’t miss a beat. “I’m interested in recruiting you, Hawthorne. You’d be a fit.”
A fit.
Like I’m a tool. Like I’m a piece of a machine.
Maybe I am.
“I don’t know,” I say carefully. “My life is here. My family. The ranch situation?—”
“Understood,” Dean says. “You don’t have to decide right now.”
I exhale, tension easing a fraction.
Then Dean’s voice shifts—not louder, not sharper, just… heavier. “But I’ll tell you why I’m calling personally,” he says. “And why you might want to hear me out.”
My pulse picks up.
Dean pauses like he’s letting the next words hit clean. “We have reason to believe your father, Billy Hawthorne, is still alive,” he says.
The room tilts.
Delaney’s hand tightens around mine.
My mouth goes dry. “That’s impossible,” I manage.
