Maybe unheard.
I wasn’t even sure I believed in God until I walked into McBride Mountain and saw something only a divine hand could have created.
Now, I need Him to hear me.
I need this one thing from Him.
As we finally reach Killian's cabin and the main clearing, the front door opens and he steps out with his shotgun.
Connor opens his window and slows, coming to a stop at the bottom of the porch steps. "We have to get Liam to the hospital."
Killian's eyes flare wide for a second, his brow furrowing. "Is he…?"
The middle McBride brother gives a little shake of his head and Killian's jaw hardens.
Connor glances through the windows at what’s visible of the homestead from here. “There may be more of them."
Killian nods. "I already called the sheriff. He's on his way.”
Which means we'll probably cross paths with him somewhere on the narrow mountain road.
Connor inclines his head. “Stay safe."
Killian glances into the backseat, his eyes meeting mine, and he simply gives me a tight smile and nods before he disappears back into the cabin. The door hasn’t even closed when Connor takes off again, kicking up gravel with the spinning tires.
The dense trees soon swallow us up, the night that was already so dark becoming impenetrable.
We drive a minute or two in pitch black. No headlights. Nothing to guide the way down the long, narrow, winding road that will take us to the base of the mountain.
But I remember what Liam told me the night he brought me up here, that he could drive this road with his eyes closed.
Connor can no doubt do the same.
Still, I hold my breath until, a few miles from the homestead.
He flicks the lights on, illuminating the steep decline through the forest that offers our only potential salvation. But even once we get to the bottom, it's still hours to the nearest major hospital.
Too much time we don't have.
Too much time that Liam might not have.
I bury my face against his, the rough scrape of his growing beard against my cheek somehow reassuring. All I want is his familiar scent that always soothes me, but it's mingled now with the tangy scent of blood.
His.
"I'm so sorry.” My sob tears through the cab of the truck. “This is all my fault."
"Lucky…"
I glance up at Connor's voice, and he peeks over his shoulder at me before focusing on the drive. "It isn't. Someone tipped them off."
I swallow another sob lodged in my throat. "It was Snow."
His head whips back toward me again briefly. "What?"
"Lorell said Snow was on their payroll.” I shake my head, the events of the night coming in violent flashes of information my brain doesn’t want to fully process. “I don't know what happened to Attorney Truman, but Snow told them where I was, probably told them everything that I confessed this morning and that I could identify him."
"Fuck." Connor slams his hand against the steering wheel. "That fucker is as good as dead."
