Total pages in book: 147
Estimated words: 141556 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 708(@200wpm)___ 566(@250wpm)___ 472(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 141556 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 708(@200wpm)___ 566(@250wpm)___ 472(@300wpm)
The blood drains from my face. Calder didn’t tell me. A tiny voice in the back of my head adds it to the list of things he’s keeping from me.
Before I can respond, Calder appears, his expression thunderous.
“Mrs. Porter,” he says, deceptively calm. “Hope you’re not giving my wife a hard time.”
Emma straightens. “Just a friendly chat, Calder.”
“Didn’t look friendly from where I was standing.”
“We were just leaving anyway,” I say, standing quickly. “Allie, it was good to see you.”
Outside, Calder’s jaw is tight, the muscle jumping beneath his skin. “What did she say to you?”
“Nothing important. Just being her.”
He studies me a moment, then nods. “We should keep wandering, talk to folks.”
As we walk, I can’t shake the feeling of being watched. Every pair of eyes seems to follow us, judging, wondering about the preacher’s daughter who married a Bishop.
I wonder what they’d think if they knew what I did today. If they’d be shocked. Or if they’d understand that in this town, survival sometimes means crossing lines you never thought you would. I glance at Calder, at the bruises forming on his neck, at the way he positions himself between me and potential threats.
He catches me watching him. “What?”
“Nothing.” I thread my fingers through his, a gesture unthinkable a few weeks ago. “Just thinking about how things change.”
His expression softens slightly. He squeezes my hand, then leads me toward the butcher shop and whatever comes next in this dangerous game. Because that’s what survival is in Black Hollow Creek—a game with rules written in blood, played by people who’ve been hurt too much to remember what it was like before the pain.
And I’m learning to play it better than anyone ever expected.
Calder
The truck feels too small after leaving town. Saint sits beside me with her hands folded primly in her lap like we’re strangers. The forced normalcy of our act in town—smiling, chatting, and pretending Wayne’s blood isn’t on our hands—leaves us both drained.
“Are you okay?” I ask, keeping my eyes on the road.
“Fine.” She doesn’t look at me, just stares out the window at the passing buildings of Black Hollow Creek. “Just need some air that isn’t…”
She doesn’t finish, but I understand. Air that isn’t thick with lies and pretense. Air that doesn’t taste like copper and iron. I make a decision then, one that’s either the smartest or stupidest move I’ve made since bringing her into my life.
“I need to go to Billings. Today.” I say it casually, like it’s just occurred to me. “We could stay overnight.”
That gets her attention. She turns to face me, suspicion written across her features. “Billings? Why?”
“Business I need to handle.” The lie comes easier than it should. The truth is I need to meet with my FBI contact away from Roman’s watchful eyes. Need to finalize the details before the consummation ceremony. Unfortunately, she can’t know any of these things yet. “The family has an apartment there. It’s private. Secure.”
“You want me to come with you?” Disbelief colors her tone.
“Better than leaving you alone after . . .” I don’t finish. After you killed Wayne. After we lied to the whole town. After Emma Porter looked at you like she could see the brand beneath your clothes.
“When would we leave?”
“Now.” I check the time. “We could be there around lunchtime.”
“What about Roman?”
“He’s in Missoula.” The timing is perfect, a rare stroke of luck in this impossible situation. “He won’t even know we’re gone.”
She’s quiet for a long moment, weighing her options, calculating risks the way life has taught her by now. Then she nods once, decision made. “Okay.”
“Okay?”
“Yes.” Something shifts in her expression, determination replacing caution. “I need this, Calder. After today . . . after everything. I need to remember there’s a world beyond Black Hollow Creek.”
I understand that more than she knows.
“Calder?” Her voice is hesitant now. “Is this—is this a good thing? Us going to Billings?”
I’m not sure how to answer. Is it good that I’m using this trip to meet with the FBI, to finalize a plan that might get us both killed?
Is it good that I’m keeping her in the dark to protect her?
“Yes,” I say finally, because it’s what she needs to hear. “It’s a good thing.”
The lie tastes like ash on my tongue.
Saint sleeps beside me for most of the drive, her head resting against the window, breath fogging the glass. The mountains roll by in shades of green and gray, and I find myself glancing at her more than the road. She seems younger in sleep, the worry lines smoothed from her face, and I’m reminded again how fucking young she really is. How much I’ve taken from her.
She stirs as we hit the outskirts of Billings, the city rising before us with its mixture of old brick buildings and newer high-rises. Her eyes flutter open, blue as a storm at sea, and find mine. The drive only takes a couple of hours.