“Yes.”
“But that’s not your job.” Saxon’s footsteps moved closer. “Don’t let your emotions win. This isn’t a military op. You kill him and you destroy your future, and he wins.”
Rowan’s hands shook with the effort of restraint. Alden’s face had turned gray, his hands losing their power.
“This is not your destiny,” Saxon continued. “This is not what you were made for. Don’t let anger win. Don’t let it get a foothold and destroy everything you’ve found.”
Sierra. Huck. The family he’d thought he’d lost forever. The future they could build together if he didn’t throw it away on revenge.
Rowan released Alden’s throat and stepped back, his chest heaving. Alden collapsed against the window, gasping for air.
“Smart choice,” Saxon said, pulling flex-cuffs from his tactical belt. He swept Alden’s feet out from under him, and the man slammed to the floor. He secured Alden’s hands behind his back with practiced efficiency.
“When did you become so well-equipped for civilian law enforcement?” Rowan was still shaking.
“Three YouTube videos and a correspondence course.” He hauled Alden to his feet. “Like I said, I’m very dedicated to my continuing education.”
The sound of sirens rose from the street below.
“That would be Detective Martinelli’s backup units that you ditched.”
“Yeah, well, we needed to have a private conversation. You okay?”
“Scars are cool. Chicks dig ’em.”
Rowan grinned as red and blue lights painted the windows in alternating patterns. A few moments later, the elevator dinged.
Rowan held up his hands, no gun, as SWAT poured in.
“You’re destroying everything your father built,” Alden snarled as Saxon handed him over to police custody.
Rowan met his stepfather’s gaze one final time, seeing not the monster who’d haunted his childhood but a broken man whose greed had poisoned everything he touched.
“Actually,” Rowan said quietly, “I’m saving it.”
Sierra had spent ten years learning not to wait for ghosts, but tonight she sat on her grandfather’s porch doing exactly that.
Here she was again. Waiting. Just like she’d waited for letters that never came, phone calls that never happened, promises that got buried in foreign soil. Except this time, she knew he was alive—somewhere out there, hunting the man who’d tried to destroy them.
But alive didn’t mean safe. And safe didn’t mean coming home.
Especially when Mike had left to answer a call downtown, something about Rowan and Alden and…
Please, Rowan. Come home.
She should go inside, get some sleep, stop acting like some tragic heroine in a romance novel. But what if he needed to see a light in the window? What if he needed to know someone was waiting? What if this time, waiting was actually an act of faith instead of foolishness?
The October night wrapped around her like an old, worn blanket, with the scent of woodsmoke drifting from distant chimneys. Stars blazed overhead in the clear mountain air, the Milky Way stretching across the darkness in a river of light. The porch light cast a warm golden circle around her, pushing back the shadows but not the silence.
Sierra pulled the quilt tighter around her shoulders—the one with the blue-and-white wedding ring pattern her grandmother had stitched forty years ago. The wooden porch swing creaked softly as she shifted her weight, the sound mixing with the distant lowing of cattle and the whisper of wind through the cottonwoods.
Her phone sat silent in her lap. No calls from Saxon. No updates from Mike. No word from Rowan since he’d disappeared into the night with murder in his eyes and justice on his mind.
The grandfather clock in the hallway chimed eleven times, each note echoing through the house like a countdown. How long did it take to confront a monster? How long to end a nightmare that had haunted him for years?
Her eyelids grew heavy despite her resolve to stay awake. The adrenaline from the kidnapping and fire was finally wearing off, leaving behind bone-deep exhaustion that made thinking coherent thoughts feel like swimming through honey.
Maybe she could close her eyes for just a moment…
