Chapter 1
Nadia
Igripthesteeringwheel hard enough that my knuckles ache, the interstate stretching ahead under a bruised, early-morning sky. Mountains rise on either side, dark shoulders against the dawn. I’ve been driving since before sunrise. The coffee in my cup holder has gone cold. A bag of gummy bears sits open on the passenger seat like a tiny act of rebellion.
Every mile takes me closer to Lovestone Ridge, to my sister, to a fresh start.
I’ve never set foot in the place. Ava fled home and only moved there recently. I finished college in another town, telling myself that being away from him meant I wassafe.
It didn’t. It just meant I wasn’t there to see what she was surviving.
My mother married the wrong man. When she died, her mistake didn’t die with her.
He got worse after the funeral, like being left with two girls who weren’t even his turned grief into rage. And in our house, rage always chose a target.
Ava.
Ava took the brunt of him. Ava took the punishments. Ava took the cigarette burns on her hands and arms and hid them like secrets she didn’t want me to carry.
She's only a couple of years older than me, but she learned faster. She learned how to stand between me and him without making it look like a stand. How to redirect his attention. How to take the hit and then look at me and smile like everything was fine.
She taught me how to live around a predator.
Keep your head down. Be agreeable. Don’t poke the bear.
I learned to read his moods before he even walked through the door. I learned when to speak and when to disappear. I learned how to make myself small enough to slip through a room without becoming the reason for his anger.
Then I left for college, and guilt followed me like a second shadow.
Every test I aced, every friend I made, every stupid campus event I laughed through felt like I was stealing air Ava didn’t have. She stayed behind. She endured.
And she still told me to live my life, as if she wasn’t the one paying for it.
I graduated with my degree in Elementary Education and my license to teach kindergarten through sixth grade. I was supposed to feel proud.
I did. For about ten minutes.
Then Ava’s world imploded.
Then the Damned Saints MC pulled her out.
Our stepfather landed in jail, but a cell doesn’t erase what he did. It doesn’t erase what he’s capable of.
The guilt in me didn’t disappear. It just changed shape.
It turned into resolve.
I couldn’t stand being hours away anymore. I wanted Ava close enough to see with my own eyes. I wanted a place where I could build something that wasn’t based on fear. I wanted to show up for her in a way that wasn’t limited to phone calls and guilt-drenched promises.
A green highway sign flashes by: LOVESTONE RIDGE 200 MILES.
My pulse kicks up.
Two hundred miles. Three hours, maybe a little more if I don’t drive like a maniac.
I exhale slowly and let myself imagine it. The town. The ridge. Ava’s laugh in the same room as mine. A school interview that could turn into my first real classroom. My own keys. My own front door. My own life.
My phone buzzes in the center console.
