“They held her down,” I say quietly.
Mason exhales slowly through the phone, like he already knew the direction this conversation was going to take. “I know.”
“They held her down while he put his hands on her.”
“Cole.”
My grip tightens on the phone as I watch Rae step through the kitchen doorway with a mug in her hand. The morning light catches in her hair, and for a second she just stands there on theporch looking out over the pasture like this place belongs to her in a way nothing else ever has.
“They don’t get to walk away from that,” I say.
The silence on the other end of the phone lasts a few seconds longer this time, and when Mason finally speaks his voice carries the same calm authority it always does when the club is about to handle something permanently.
“No,” he agrees. “They don’t.”
I nod once even though he can’t see it, my eyes still on Rae as she notices me standing there and sends that crooked little smile in my direction like nothing in the world is wrong.
“Riot sending the address?” I ask.
“He already did.”
“Good.”
Mason lets out a quiet breath before speaking again. “We handle this together. Nobody makes moves until we’re all there.”
My gaze drifts back out across the fields as the sun starts pushing through the mist. Somewhere behind the barn, Sheriff lets out another obnoxious crow, and the sound carries across the quiet morning like a warning bell.
“Yeah,” I say. But the truth sitting in my chest feels a lot simpler than the plan Mason is laying out.
Voss put his hands on Rae. The men with him held her down. And the second I get close enough to them again, none of them are walking away.
Rae pushes the back door open a few seconds later, the hinges creaking softly as she steps out onto the porch with a steaming mug in her hand. The cool morning air curls around her immediately, tugging at the loose strands of hair that escaped whatever halfhearted attempt she made to pull it back earlier. She’s wearing leggings and one of those oversized hoodies that swallow half her frame, and for a second she just stands there blinking into the pale morning light like she’s still waking up.
Then she spots me leaning against the railing.
Her mouth curves into that familiar crooked smile.
She walks over without saying anything at first and presses the mug into my hand, the ceramic warm against my palm. The smell of strong coffee rises up immediately, dark and sharp, and I wrap my fingers around it without thinking.
“What’re you doing out here?” she asks, her voice still rough with sleep.
I take a sip before answering, letting the heat burn down my throat while I watch the mist lifting slowly off the pasture.
“Phone call.”
She hums softly like that makes sense, then leans her hip against the railing beside me and takes a sip from her own mug. For a minute neither of us says anything, just standing there while the morning wakes up around the farm. Somewhere near the barn a goat knocks something over, and Sheriff lets out another offended crow like he’s announcing the end of civilization.
Rae glances sideways at me.
“You’ve been up long?”
“A couple of minutes.”
“Could’ve woken me,” she says.
I shake my head slightly. “You were sleeping.”
That seems to satisfy her. She takes another drink of coffee and looks out over the pasture the same way I was a second ago, her expression going calm in that quiet way she gets when the farm is just starting to come alive.
