Nothing but Tex.
And losing him would be my undoing.
Time stopped meaning anything after the call about the ranch.
I sat on the cold concrete floor for what felt like hours, knees pulled to my chest, staring at nothing. The overhead bulb continued to buzz and flicker, throwing shadows across the walls that made the room feel smaller every time it dimmed.
The prospect—Eli, I found out his name was—kept glancing at me like he wasn’t sure if he should say something or leave me alone. The two other club members stayed near the door, tense and silent, their eyes fixed on the gaps between the slats and the outside world, like they could will Tex and the others to walk through it.
No one spoke and no one moved much.
The only sound was the hum of the light and the occasional creak of the building settling, each one making my heart jump.
It felt like days, yet it couldn’t have been. But fear stretches time until it’s unrecognizable. And grief will do the same to a person, and I felt so much grief. It was like a thick ball of it, knotted together and impossible to pick apart.
Finally I stood up, because sitting still made the panic worse. I paced the length of the room, then back again, over and over until my legs ached and the ground was clear of dust from where I had been pacing. My thoughts chased each other in circles, concocting different scenarios of what could be happening outside. Of what might be happening to Tex right now.
And then it spun the other way, remembering all the things that had happened.
Tex fighting.
Tex promising he’d stand in front of me every time.
I didn’t know how to hold on to that. I didn’t know how to deserve it.
Then my mind went to my parents. Their faces and their voices. The ranch. The fire. The loss was so sharp it felt like a blade lodged under my ribs.
I pressed my hand to my chest, trying to breathe around the pain of it.
I thought of all things I had inexplicably missed over the years. Things I had been too blind to see for what they were. Things that showed me exactly who my parents were—not perfect parents that sent me to college, insisting that they wanted me to see the world and experience everything, but parents that hid me from the men they knew would harm me and use me as leverage. Parents that apparently hadn’t saved their entire lives to send me to college, but had funded my college through drug money they got from the cartel.
I felt sick.
Eli kept checking his phone even though it hadn’t rung since that first call. The other two men shifted restlessly, exchanging looks that made my stomach twist tighter. Eventually they sat down on old crates beside the door, their guns still clutched tightly in their grasps.
They were worried and they were trying not to show it.
Hours passed, maybe more. At least that’s what it felt like. The light flickered again, and I flinched.
“Still nothing?” one of the older men muttered.
Eli shook his head. “No calls. No updates.”
“That’s not good,” the other said under his breath.
My pacing stopped and they all stiffened, like they hadn’t meant for me to hear.
“What do you mean ‘it’s not good’?” I snapped.
Eli stepped forward quickly, one hand smoothing over his short beard. “It’s not that anything bad happened. It’s just, they should’ve checked in with us by now.”
My pulse hammered in my ears like an echo, only too loud. “So something did happen.”
“We don’t know that,” Eli said, but his voice was too thin, too careful, and my God he was so young. Too young to be so deep in this life already.
I wrapped my arms around myself, suddenly freezing. “Tex would’ve called.”
The older man closest to the door exhaled slowly. “He’s got his hands full right now. They all do. They’ll call when they can.”
