I reach for the photo tucked safely under the mattress in case she decides to snoop again. I pull it out, running a rough finger over the worn image, and welcome the well of rage that boils anew inside me.
Four boys, all dirty faced with tattered clothing, smiling as they cling to each other, stare back at me.
It was before my mom got sick the first time and my dad left us. Before my brother’s turned to lying and stealing to afford my mother’s medicine. Well before they all met their end at the barrel of Valentina Reye’s gun.
I lick my lips, trying to find even an ounce of sadness, but all I feel is rage.
They were evil men—at least my two older brothers were by the end. I’ll never make an excuse for how they treated Adalene. I can’t even argue they deserved to be punished.
But my younger brother?He didn’t deserve his fate.
And even though I don’t know if my older brothers deserve to be avenged, no one should get away with wiping away an entire family, no matter how righteous they may feel.
If it wasn’t for Valentina’s bloodlust, my older brothers would never have kidnapped that girl, never defiled her, never broke her.
Everything that’s happened is Valentina's fault.
And I’m going to make her pay.
I lift the mattress back up, returning the tattered photo, and suck in a ragged breath. It’s all about tearing her down, one precious, lipstick-and-perfume coated brick at a time. I’ll take everything from her, and then I’ll take everyone, turning them all against her so she feels as alone as I do.
I move back out into the barn, grabbing the rake leaning against the first stall, and begin dragging it through the flakes of sawdust. Soon, sweat pebbles over my back, running in eager streams between my shoulder blades.
Regardless of the circumstances, I’m grateful for the hard work. Keeping my hands busy is the only thing that seems to calm my racing mind anymore. I find a sick satisfaction in helping to build this ranch up, only to be the one to light the match that’ll ultimately burn it to ash.
The truck comes bumping back into view, a cloud of dust billowing behind it like an ominous red cloud. I don’t pause my work until they pull to a stop by the barn doors. McCrae doesn’t bother acknowledging me, but I can feel the burn of his gaze as he watches me wheel out the last load of manure.
“Working hard?” Valentina jumps out of the truck, the petite girl hot on her heels. I still can’t figure out how Faith fits into the twisted picture McCrae and Valentina make up—why would she be involved with them?
“Yes, ma’am.” I smirk, grabbing the hem of my shirt to remove the sweat on my brow. I hear the hushed intake of Valentina’s breath, and I can’t help but smile wickedly into the fabric. Getting her to trust me is going to be so easy, it’s embarrassing.
I’ve always cared what I looked like, in a‘I don't want to look like a total blob’kind of way. But the muscles I’ve worked on for my own benefit have an added value, something I plan to exploit at every turn.
When I lower my shirt, I give Valentina a wink, the action souring my stomach, and she flushes slightly, the tops of her cheeks giving her interest in me away, plain as day. I turn the same charm on with her friend, but instead of folding like the good little church girl I expect, she just raises her eyebrows at me and laughs.
She fucking laughs.
“Now that’s over with, go grab that gun, Valentina.”
I freeze, half wondering if my cover’s been blown, and I’m about to meet my maker. Instead, Valentina stares at me a second longer before shooting me a flirty grin of her own and saunters away.
Releasing a pent up breath, I dump the wheelbarrow onto the pile and walk back toward the barn. As I do, Valentina returns, a gun waving in one arm, two different boxes of bullets under her other.
“Sorry, I don’t know which bullets go—” There’s hesitation mixed with embarrassment in her voice, and it freezes me in my tracks.
She doesn’t know which bullets go in her gun? The one she held pointed at me only days ago?How is that possible?
“I figured. It’s all good, V—not knowing how to operate a gun’s nothing to be embarrassed about.” Faith links her arm with Valentina’s and turns them toward the truck to climb inside.
I feel my understanding of the situation slipping. If she doesn’t know how to operate a gun, then she couldn’t have been the one to kill them. My eyes flick to McCrae, my rage growing. She couldn’t do it, so she sicked her dog on them.
“Want to come with?” Valentina asks over her shoulder, her eyes piercing into my own. My instincts blare at me to stay away—it could be a trap.
“Sure. I just finished cleaning the last stall.” Dropping the handles of the wheelbarrow, I begin walking toward the truck.
“There’s no room,” McCrae hisses, looking at Valentina as she climbs into the cab like she just spit on his grave.
I know a possessive man when I see one. Hell, he took a fucking bullet for her.
