“This better fucking work, Cade.”
“It will,” He grins.
I drive the Chevy toward the city, toward the house I grew up in but no longer feels like home. I thought that place would be where I lived the rest of my life, where I’d die but the closer I get, the more I miss the quiet peace of the ranch, the sounds of the cattle and the horses, and Ralph’s tantrums. I miss the rattling pipes, and the water that takes a few minutes to heat all the way up.
The rolling hills and sprawling forests turn to skyscrapers and smog, the mountains growing smaller in the rearview mirror.
I bring the Chevy to a stop in standstill traffic on the main road into the city; the sun beginning its descent in the sky. The sounds of horns and irritated, angry shouts surround me in the quiet cab of Knox’s truck, but I take a deep breath, grounding myself.
I’m trying real hard not to think about how all of this can go wrong. How I could turn up and see him dead.
Cade assures me it won’t happen, but I fear he is underestimating my uncle.
I wish he would have told me.
But I also understand I never would have allowed it to happen.
I move forward in the traffic, using the time to steady myself, to push back on the fear and trepidation that tells me this is never going to work.
It has to work. There is no future without Knox.
I cannot live without him. Not anymore.
Finally, I turn away from the traffic heading into the center of the city, and the road opens up, allowing me to press on the gas of Knox’s Chevy. The old truck roars and vibrates beneath me.
I’ll deal with the tickets when this is done.
The city I grew up in and know like the back of my hand, passes by in a blur of muted greys and blacks, a place I once thought spectacular and awe-inspiring, lacking compared to the rich greens and vibrant yellows, reds and oranges of the ranch. These buildings, which stretch toward the sky, seeming to touch the clouds, are nothing to the mountain peaks and the reaching evergreens.
Finally, the house comes into view. Set atop a hill and gated with tall black iron fences, the white, Mediterranean inspired mansion stands proud, with its lush and pristinely tended lawns, several expensive cars parked in the courtyard in front of the house, a fountain spraying crystal clear watertoward the sky.
As if expecting me, the gates open to allow me through.
It’s finally here.
The end of the war I never started.
This is the final battle, and only one of us will come out on top.
CHAPTER 43
My ears are buzzing, and there’s this thick fog inside my head, leaving my vision blurred and my thoughts jumbled. Ahead of me, there’s an orange-tiled floor, the lines where the squares meet wonky and jagged, and there are voices. Distorted but angry, panicked even.
The skin at my temple feels tight, and there’s pain; one I recognize from taking a sharp hit there.
It takes a minute, but the whole ordeal on that bench back in town comes back in snippets.
Squeezing my eyes, I try to fight the hazy fog that keeps me quiet, keeps me still. I listen to those voices. I feel the hard chair beneath me, the ropethat bites into my wrists, securing my hands behind the back of the chair.
But there’s only one thing I care about.
“Is she…” I croak, “Is she alive?”
“He’s awake,” I hear someone say.
“What did you just say?” Another asks.
“Is she alive?” I repeat.
