Not now.
Something steady.
Certain.
Like he’s already made up his mind about something—and I’m just catching up.
I swallow.
And look away first.
Because I don’t think I’m ready for whatever that look means.
He pulls back onto the road, and it stretches on for a few more miles before it changes.
The land shifts.
The fencing grows taller.
Stronger.
And then—I see it.
Gunner Land & Seed.
It sprawls out across the landscape like it owns the damn state.
Bigger than anything I expected.
Barns the size of small stadiums.
Endless fields.
Heavy equipment moving in the distance.
Money.
Power.
Control.
Legacy.
All of it wrapped up in one place.
“Holy shit,” I breathe, sitting up a little straighter.
Benji doesn’t respond.
But I see the way his grip tightens on the wheel.
The way his shoulders go rigid.
The way his entire body seems to lock into something harder.
Colder.
This isn’t just a familial visit.
