“You always had a talent for cruelty,” he said quietly. “It’s one of the things I’ll have to fix.”
“Fix? You don't get to fix anything. I left you; I was free of you. There is nothing to fix.”
“You ran back here like a child,” he replied, his voicerising. “Back to this pathetic ranch and your uncle's memory. Don't talk to me about freedom while you're drowning in his debts.”
“Don't you dare talk about Ray.”
He smiled, a jagged, ugly expression. “Why not? He’s gone. He can't help you. Neither can that cowboy you’ve been sniffing around.”
I rose so fast the chair screeched against the floor. “Go to hell.”
Colin didn't move. He stayed seated, relaxed, watching my outburst like a parent watching a toddler's tantrum. “Sit down, Tessa. You can scream, you can throw the chair, you can even try to hit me. But when you’re done, you’re still going to be in this room. And I’m still going to have the keys.”
I stood there breathing hard, my chest heaving. I hated the weakness of my own body. I hated that exhaustion made my thoughts slippery. I hated that he was right; I was trapped in a box of his making.
Colin let the silence stretch until my shoulders started to sag. Then he spoke again, his voice dropping back into that terrifying, honeyed softness.
“I didn't come here to hurt you, Tessa. I'm not a monster.”
“You’re holding me hostage!”
He tilted his head, looking almost sincere. “I'm being desperate. There’s a difference. People do strange things for love.”
“This isn't love,” I whispered.
“You used to think it was.” He stood up, and my entire body went rigid. He didn't lunge. He walked to the little counter by the stove and opened a cupboard with a piercing squeak. Inside were old tins and a kettle with a rim of rust. He took his time, acting as if he were in his own kitchen.
He pulled a lighter from his pocket. The click of the flint was loud in the silence. A flame bloomed, dancing inhis eyes.
“You planned this,” I said, the realization sinking into my gut like lead. “The cabin, the stove... you’ve been here before.”
He flicked the lighter shut. “I like to be prepared. I wanted to talk to you somewhere you couldn't run. Somewhere, the world couldn't interfere.”
He crouched, opened the stove door, and lit the tinder he’d clearly placed there earlier. The fire caught, the dry wood popping and hissing. Smoke curled into the room, smelling of ancient dust and burning sap.
He returned to the table and sat, folding his hands. “Now. Tell me the truth.”
“What truth?”
“Tell me you didn't mean it when you left.”
A cold, hysterical laugh bubbled in my throat. “I meant every second of it. I’ve never been happier than the day I walked away from you.”
His eyes narrowed. “No. You were overly emotional. Which you know is something I don’t appreciate.”
“Now you’re in over your head here. This ranch is rotting, your uncle is a corpse, but I can help you. I can take the weight. The money, the decisions, you won't have to worry your pretty little head about it anymore.”
“I’d rather lose the ranch than let you help me.”
He sighed, as if I were being a difficult child. Then, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. He tapped the screen and turned it toward me.
It was a picture of Maddy. She was further away this time, walking toward the barn on Wyatt’s property. Someone was standing in the shadows of the trees—a blurred figure in a dark jacket.
The timestamp was from twenty minutes ago.
My breath hitched so hard it hurt. The terror, which had been a dull roar, suddenly became a deafening scream in my head.
“I told you,” Colin said, his voice a low hum. “I’m close enough to touch everything you love. So, stop fighting me. Stop pretending you have a choice.”
