“She wrote about Richard,” Annie said. “But she also mentioned someone who tried to warn her. Walter Wainwright.We don’t know who he was. Or what he saw. Or whether he survived.”
Jack joined her, resting his hands on the edge of the table. “And if there was one, there could have been others. Which means this wasn’t just a crime. It may have been a network.”
A conspiracy, unspoken but heavy.
Below them, lights still moved faintly through the trees.
“They burned my shop,” Annie said quietly. “They barricaded doors. They didn’t just want the locket. They wanted silence.”
“And they’re not done,” Jack said.
The words didn’t frighten her the way they once would have. They steadied her.
“Then neither am I.”
He looked at her sharply.
She met his gaze without flinching. “I spent years letting fear dictate what I deserved. What I was capable of. Eleanor didn’t. She wrote the truth even when she knew it might kill her.”
Jack’s voice softened. “And you climbed out of a burning building to save it.”
“Not just the locket,” she said. “Her voice.”
Something unreadable passed through his eyes.
Below them, the lights began drifting away from the ranch.
“What happens now?” she asked.
“Now we wait,” he said. “And tomorrow, we start uncovering what Eleanor died trying to expose.”
Annie leaned back against the wall, exhaustion finally settling into her bones. Outside, the mountains stood dark and watchful.
She closed her eyes, one hand resting over the locket, and whispered a prayer of thanks—not for safety, because that was uncertain, but for courage. She was no longer only surviving. She was stepping into the fight.
***
Jack remained at the narrow cabin window, one hand braced against the rough timber frame, his gaze fixed on the dark slope that dropped away toward the ranch below. From this height, the scattered lights looked deceptively peaceful, as though the night had settled back into its rightful calm. But he knew better. Twenty minutes of stillness meant nothing. It could mean his parents had convinced their unwanted visitors to leave. It could mean the men in those vehicles were regrouping, repositioning, or waiting for the right moment to strike. The uncertainty coiled tight in his chest, every instinct in him straining toward the darkness.
Behind him, the cabin creaked softly as Annie moved about the small space, checking the supplies his mother had packed and setting them neatly on the table as if order itself could hold back chaos. The soft sounds of her movements grounded him in a way nothing else could. Even now, with danger pressing in from all sides, he was acutely aware of her presence—of the way the lantern light caught in her hair, of the steadiness in her steps, of the quiet resolve that radiated from her despite everything she had endured in the last twenty-four hours.
The memory of their kiss lingered, not as distraction but as something weightier, something that had settled deep in his bones. It hadn’t been reckless or born of fear. It had felt inevitable. But he didn’t turn from the window. He couldn’t. Someone had to watch the mountain. Someone had to be ready.
“Any movement?” Annie asked quietly as she came to stand beside him.
“Nothing yet,” he said, scanning the tree line again. “Either they’ve pulled back… or they’re being smart about it.”
She nodded, following his line of sight. “Your parents can handle themselves. I saw your mother earlier. She doesn’t strike me as someone who scares easily.”
Despite himself, a faint smile tugged at his mouth. “Mom grew up on a farm in eastern Kentucky. Started hunting when she was eight. Dad likes to say she’s the better shot. He’s probably right.”
Annie glanced at him. “How did they meet?”
The question caught him slightly off guard. He shifted his weight, settling into the chair by the window without taking his eyes from the valley. “College. UT. Dad was studying agriculture, Mom was working toward a teaching degree. They met in a literature class. Both of them were the only ones who actually did the reading.”
Annie let out a soft laugh, and something in his chest eased. “That sounds exactly like them.”
“Dad proposed on graduation day,” Jack continued. “Told her he knew she was the one after their first study session. They moved out here almost immediately. The land was mostly wilderness back then. No house. No fences. Nothing but trees and stubborn plans.”
