Page 99 of Branded Betrayal

Everything. She heard everything.

Every word. Every accusation. Every truth.

I take a step toward her. “Savannah . . .”

“No,” she cries out. “Don’t come any closer. My parents . . . you used their business to transport stolen goods. For that criminal. You were supposed to be there.” She narrows her eyes at me. “But we were together. And a rival crew . . .”

“Savvie, please let me explain—” I try to close the distance between us, but she holds up her hands.

“Don’t come near me.” Her eyes are wild. She backs away from us.

“We were only trying to protect you,” Nash says.

“Don’t. Don’t you dare. You’re my brother. You knew the truth about what really happened, and you’ve been lying to me about it for six years. Making me feel guilty about not being there that night, then about leaving Whiskey Creek when I was so grief stricken over everything I lost.”

She covers her face with her hands, sobbing into her palms.

“They died because you were working for criminals. Using their business. Bringing danger to their door.”

She whips her head toward me. “You left me. Right after it happened. You let me grieve alone, you selfish bastard. And you knew. You knew the whole time why they really died.”

“I couldn’t tell you—”

“Couldn’t or wouldn’t?”

But the words catch in my throat before I can spit them out.

“You came back. You got close to me again. You touched me, you—” She fists her hair and lets out a frustrated scream. “And the other night, you still didn’t tell me. You fed me a bunch of half truths, hoping it’d satisfy me so you could keep showing up in the middle of the night to fuck me.”

She drops the grocery bags on the ground next to her. “Stay away from me. Both of you. Just . . . stay away.” Then she turns and runs to her car, her sobs echoing in the tense, thick air.

The car engine roars, and she speeds down the drive, tires kicking up gravel and smoke in her wake.

I stare at the back of the car, my stomach plunging into my boots, my jaw in flames. I slide to the ground, hunching over to hold my aching head in my hands because everything she said is true.

Now she’s gone.

And this time, I don’t know if there’s any way back.

Chapter Thirty-One

Savannah

My hands clutch the steering wheel as I stare blankly out the windshield. So many memories tumble around in my mind, colliding with one another as realization blooms in the midst.

A few nights ago, I found out everything I thought I knew about Blaze Hartman was a lie. And now . . . Nash, Blaze, my parents, his father . . . they were all involved with some criminal. And nobody ever said a word about it. How long had they been in bed with him? How long had they been doing those jobs?

How long had I been in the dark for?

I swipe at the tears under my eyes. And Aunt Marg . . . did she know too? Uncle Aaron was killed in that explosion. Was every fucking person in my family part of that inner crime circle?

My heart lodges so high in my chest, I could choke on it. I try hard to drag in a breath, but my chest burns like it’s being torched, and a fresh torrent of tears cascades down the sides of my face.

That night . . . God, I remember that night. Being with Blaze, out by the bluff. He’d been a little tense, but I just chalked it up to the fact that we were being secretive about our relationship. Nash didn’t know about our affair at that point, so sneaking around always carried a fair amount of stress for us both.

My insides ice over, the coldness seeping into my bones.

Then I think about Harlon, how he referred to my parents as dear friends. How he’d have done anything for them.