His limp is pronounced now, the cane biting into the ground with each pace. I can hear his breathing, still rough, but he doesn’t slow. He refuses to let the pain dictate anything.
“This way.” Daniel bends, pushing into a thicket of trees.
The well sits half-hidden near a line of dead brush, its mouth covered by warped wooden boards nailed down years ago. The wood is gray and splintered, swollen from weather. Moss creeps along the edges like it’s been reclaiming the thing one inch at a time.
Daniel grabs a rusted pry bar from nearby debris and wedges it under the boards. He strains, jaw clenched, muscles trembling as the nails resist. The wood groans but doesn’t give right away.
I lower Ken to the ground while Daniel works. As I do, I notice Ken’s eyes are open. But then they move. It’s a slick flicker as his body gives a faint, useless twitch.
Is he still alive?
Maybe Cass broke his neck, and he’s still alive in there.
Good.
The boards finally give with a sharp crack, nails screaming as Daniel pries them loose. One by one, he tears them free, revealing a black hole beneath. The well drops straight down, the darkness absolute. No sound comes up from it. No echo. Pure depth.
I grab Ken again and step to the edge.
Then I tip him forward and let gravity take over.
The fucker’s body drops into the dark, vanishing fast. There’s a brutal, meaty crack as he slams into the stone wall on the way down. The sound echoes once, ugly and final, before fading into nothing.
I don’t bother wondering how much of him is still intact by the time he hits bottom. Whether the fall kills him outright or leaves him to die slowly doesn’t matter. Either way, Ken is done. And he’ll never touch anyone again.
He will never speak another lie into existence.
Daniel immediately starts replacing the boards, movements quick now, efficient. He hammers them back into place, sealing the well as if it had never opened.
Cass watches for a moment, then asks, “What else do you need help with?”
Daniel doesn’t look up. “Nothing.” He wipes his hands on his jeans. “I’ll move his truck. Hose off the bloodnear the silo. I’ve got time.” He checks his watch. “It’s not 10 a.m. yet.” He looks up at Cass, then me. “You should go.”
Cass studies him for a beat. “The cops had better not show up at my door,” he warns.
“They won’t,” Daniel says firmly.
Cass’s eyes narrow. “If anyone finds his body, I expect you?—”
“I swear, Cassian,” Daniel steps up to the pack alpha, hand extended. “If anyone finds Ken’s body, I’ll make sure it doesn’t come back to you.” His hand stays suspended in the air. “I owe that much to Tansy.”
Cass lets out a slow breath, then takes Daniel’s hand, shaking it once. “You owe her so much more.” Then he releases Daniel’s hand and turns away without another word.
I fall in step behind him.
We pass the silo on the way back.
Dark smears streak the brick where Ken went down, ugly against the old red stone. I glance at it, then away, jaw tightening. “You really think Daniel can keep his mouth shut?”
Cass doesn’t slow. His grip tightens on the cane, knuckles pale. “Yes,” he says after a beat. “I think he’s riddled with guilt.” He glances up at me. “I think he’ll keep his mouth shut for Tansy.”
I nod, accepting that. We keep walking, gravel crunching underfoot.
We reach the car and climb in. Once we’re both buckled, I ask the question that’s been burning at the back of my throat. “Are you going to tell her?”
Cass exhales through his nose. “I don’t know,” he admits. “I honestly don’t.” He’s quiet for a moment, then adds, “We talked once about revenge.” His mouth pullstight. “She asked what happened after I got shot. She wanted to know about Caleb.”
I look at him.
