Everyone went still.
I turned slowly. “What do you mean it won’t be enough?”
Rylie’s eyes flicked to her father, then to Nora, then to the Magnolia ladies like she was measuring the damage her truth could do.
Her voice came out thin. “Thomas isn’t just an arrogant lawyer. He works with… criminals. Dangerous ones.”
Sheriff Tate’s gaze sharpened. “Rylie.”
She looked at me then.
And I saw the fear in her eyes. Not fear for herself.
Fear for us.
Fear for the town.
“The people he works with…” she whispered. “They’re not going to walk away because you have a recording.”
My blood went cold.
Havoc’s voice was low. “Cartel.”
Rylie’s chin trembled once.
Then she nodded.
The room went silent in that heavy way—like the air itself was deciding if it wanted to stay in our lungs.
Sheriff Tate’s face didn’t change much.
But his hands tightened into fists.
“You should’ve told me,” he said softly.
Rylie’s eyes filled. “I tried.”
That nearly ripped my heart in half.
I stepped closer without thinking. “How long?”
Rylie’s voice broke. “Weeks.”
I held her gaze. “Did he hurt you again?”
Rylie flinched.
My hands curled into fists.
Then she whispered, “Not after… not after he realized fear worked just as well.”
Rage spiked so hard I had to breathe through my nose.
Sheriff Tate moved like a man who’d made a decision.
He nodded to Saint. “Call it in—quietly. State-level contacts only. No uniforms. No local chatter.”
Saint nodded and stepped out.
