“What are you going to do?” Alden’s laugh cut through her fury. “Call for help? Your boyfriend doesn’t even know you’re missing. Face reality, Sierra. No one is coming to save you. You’re alone.”
She stilled, tears streaking down her face. Then, quietly, yes…She lifted her chin. “If I sign this, you let him go.” Sierra’s voice came out steady and hard. “He walks out of here unharmed.”
“I’m afraid that’s not possible. It doesn’t solve any of my problems.” His voice softened. “But I promise his end will be swift.”
“Then I don’t sign.”
Billy pressed the knife deeper, and Huck whimpered. A fresh line of blood welled against the blade. But, oh, her son was brave.
“Last chance. Or he dies in front of you.”
She bit her lip and nodded.
And somehow, the words from Sunday swept into her, through her. Whom have I in heaven but you?...My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever.
I am not alone.
Tears burned down her face. Sierra reached for the pen with shaking fingers. Around her, the house seemed to echo with the ghosts of Rowan’s childhood—all the times he’d been powerless, all the times he’d been forced to choose between bad and worse.
Now she understood why he’d run.
And he should keep running.
Her signature flowed across the bottom of the document, each letter a small betrayal of everything her grandfather had built. The ranch. The legacy. The future she’d planned for Huck.
Gone in a few strokes of ink.
“Excellent.” Alden gathered the papers with obvious satisfaction. “That wasn’t so difficult, was it?”
“Please, Alden. Let him go.” She hated how small her voice felt, how broken.
“I told you, that’s not possible. But don’t worry—you’ll be together.”
The slosh of liquid was audible in the sudden silence. The sharp smell of gasoline filled the air, overlaying the dust and decay with something far more sinister.
“Gasoline?” Sierra’s heart rate spiked as understanding dawned. “You’re going to burn us alive?”
“Accidents happen.” Alden’s voice held no emotion. “Old houses. Faulty wiring. Very tragic.”
Billy began dousing the room, the gasoline darkening the hardwood floors in spreading pools. The fumes made Sierra’s eyes water.
“Please, Alden. Don’t?—”
Tank tied her ankles to the chair legs, then secured Huck the same way. The boy had gone silent, probably shock setting in as his young mind tried to process their situation.
She looked at him. “Huck. I’m here. I’m right here.”
Alden pulled a silver lighter from his pocket, the metal gleaming in the late-afternoon light. “Don’t worry. The smoke will kill you before the flames do.”
Her mouth opened. “You really are the devil.”
Alden flicked the lighter open. “Only to some.”
The flame caught on the first try, a tiny orange tongue.
“Don’t—Alden!”
He dropped the lighter.
