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“Man, we gotta find her,” Walker said, his usual carefree tone edged with steel. “Before . . .”
“Before?” I echoed, unable to finish the sentence, unable to give voice to the peril that might be unfurling outside these walls. The silence hung between us, loaded and foreboding.
“Let's just find her, Gray,” Walker insisted, determination lining his words.
“Right.” I nodded, pushing back against the helplessness threatening to engulf me. We had to act, and fast. Eryn was out there somewhere, possibly needing us, while we stood amidst the remnants of her last known moments.
“Call the sheriff and check the rest of the house again,” I instructed, my voice rough. “I'll take another look around here. Maybe there’s something we missed, something that can lead us to her.”
“Got it.” Walker's agreement was swift, his footsteps already retreating as he left to scour the rest of the old homestead.
Alone again, I crouched down amongst the debris, my fingers grazing over the cool, sharp edges of the shattered glass. Each piece seemed to taunt me with its silence, withholding the secrets of what happened in this room. But I wasn't about to give up—not when it came to Eryn.
“Where are you, princess?” The question slipped past my lips as my eyes scanned the floor.
And there it was—the glimmer that caught my eye. Not just any sparkle, but the distinct shine of silver winking up at me from the floor, nestled between the shards of glass like a snake in the grass. I bent down, my movements stiff, my mind swirling with a dark cloud of possibilities I dared not voice.
It was a bolo tie—worn smooth from years of use, the slide shaped like a stubborn bull's head, horns defiant to the sky. A knot formed in my throat as my fingers closed around it, the cool metal a stark contrast to the heat flushing my skin. Mitch's tie. The one he wore like a damn badge of honor, the one he'd boasted about securing from some high-stakes rodeo back in '86.
“Son of a bitch . . .” The words hissed past my clenched teeth, an involuntary expulsion of anger and dread. I heard footsteps and straightened, holding the tie out for Walker to see, the weight of what it meant anchoring it to my palm as if it were forged from lead instead of silver.
“Gray,” Walker breathed, his voice strangled by the same realization slamming into us both, “that's Mitch's.”
“Exactly.” My jaw was set so tight I could feel the ache radiating down to my neck. It wasn't just the sight of the tie that knocked the wind out of me; it was the implication it carried, heavy as the summer storm clouds gathering on the horizon.
Walker scrubbed a hand over his face, the lines of worry etched deep in his brow. “You think he . . .”
I didn’t let him finish. Didn't need to hear what we were both thinking because it was written all over his face, reflected in the grim set of his mouth. The connection between Mitch and Eryn's disappearance was now clear.
Blood roared in my ears, a hot, angry tide that wouldn't be stilled. My hands curled into fists at my sides, the skin stretched tight over white knuckles. I'd find Eryn. No matter where she was or what it took, I'd bring her back to this house where she belonged, here with me, where I’d never let her out of my sight again.
“Gray, we'll get her back,” Walker's voice cut through my seething thoughts, his words trembled slightly, betraying the steel in his usually carefree tone.
“Let's get to the trucks, call Damon and Mason, have them check the roads leading outta town first.” I spoke with conviction, trying to sound more certain than I felt. Our footsteps echoed down the hall, like the ominous beat of a drum signaling the start of a duel.
“Got it,” Walker replied, falling into step beside me. We were brothers, yes, but in that moment, we were also like two halves of the same heart, both beating for Eryn.
The door to the outside world swung open with a creak that sounded too loud in the quiet morning. The sun hadn't quite crested the hills yet, leaving the ranch dipped in the soft blue of predawn. But there was no peace in the beauty of it—not today.
“First light,” I said, squinting against the dim glow, “and we're already chasing shadows.”
“Shadows we'll catch,” Walker added with a confidence that I wished I could mirror.
I knew two things for sure.
I was gonna find her.
And I was gonna kill that man.
29
Eryn
Consciousness returned like a reluctant tide, ebbing back into the shores of my mind. I stirred, the world around me a blurred canvas of shadow and light. I blinked, trying to piece together the fragmented reality as it swam into focus. I was lying on something hard and unyielding—the ridged metal floor of a truck bed, the chill seeping through the fabric of my clothes.
“Wha—“ My voice was a croak, the word fragmenting as I realized the gravity of my situation. Disoriented, I raised my head, only to be greeted by the sight of worn-out wooden slats and the stale scent of hay and oil that seemed to hang in the air.
Confusion tethered itself to fear, wrapping around my thoughts like barbed wire. How long had I been out? Where was Mitch taking me? I tried to move, but my limbs responded sluggishly, as if they belonged to someone else. Panic fluttered in my chest, a caged bird desperate for escape.
