The farmhouse was wrapped in mountain silence around them.
Grant sat first, then pulled her against him until her head rested against his chest beneath his arm.
Izzy listened to the steady beat of his heart while his fingers moved slowly through her damp hair.
At some point, her breathing slowed.
Then softened.
Grant looked down and realized she’d fallen asleep curled against him.
Carefully, he tightened his arms around her.
And for the first time since the nightmare began?—
Grant Scott finally let himself breathe.
54
Hollis Ridge
Hollis Ridge didn’t look untouchable anymore.
By midmorning, the gates stood wide open—not by invitation, but by warrant. Federal SUVs lined the long drive in grim black rows. DEA agents moved through the barns and offices with evidence boxes, camera bags, and clipped voices. SBI techs photographed file cabinets, ledgers, shipping records, hard drives.
The kingdom was being dismantled one label at a time.
Burke stood near the main house with his hat low and his hands on his hips, watching two agents carry a sealed box down the porch steps.
Special Agent Tessa Quinn came up beside him, her expression unreadable.
“Varga’s people are talking,” she said quietly. “The son, some of Vicente’s old guys. Not all of them. Enough.”
Burke didn’t look away from the house. “And Varga?”
“Picked up in Miami just before dawn.Didn't even make it to the airport."
That got Burke’s attention.
Tessa nodded toward the barns.
“We seized enough Ghost Ice out of those warehouses to keep a task force busy for a year. The pipeline’s finished.”
“And Wade?”
“His attorneys are trying to make him look like a frightened local businessman who got pressured by a cartel.”
Burke gave a humorless breath. “That’ll play well with the people who remember Clara Vale.”
Tessa’s gaze shifted toward the barns. “Maybe not as well as it would have yesterday.”
Burke followed her line of sight.
Cal Hollis stood near the center aisle of the main barn, still bruised from the abduction, one hand braced against a stall door. He looked like a man who had spent his whole life inside a painting and had discovered the canvas was rotting from the back.
Wade Hollis came out of the tack room with two federal agents behind him.
No Stetson today.
