“Hey,” I say softly, keeping my voice calm as I step closer. My hands rest on her shoulders, gentle but firm, as I guide her into me. She doesn’t pull away, and I wrap my arms around her, holding her close as the fire blazes on in the background. Anger flares in my gut—someone caused this, and I won’t rest until I find out who.
“You can’t stay here,” Mal catches up with me. “I can get you back to your old place tonight.”
“Fine. We’ll go to Seattle,” I agree, unsure if I should trust his judgement. I mean, he’s just a sheriff. What does he know?
“Good. Gil will take you.” Malerick nods, but the tension in his face doesn’t ease, the lines between his brows deepening. “We’ll take care of her friend and make sure she arrives safely in Denver.”
I glance back at Hopper, his jaw tight, arms crossed like he’s bracing for an argument. “Thanks for the offer, Hop.”
His eyes soften just a fraction. “It’s there if you need it. Anytime.”
Before I can respond, a man strides over, motioning for us to follow. “This way,” he says, his tone brisk and businesslike. He leads us toward a truck, its engine rumbling faintly.
As we move, my arm instinctively tightens around Galeana. She’s silent, her steps unsteady, her body leaning into mine like she’s barely holding herself together. I can feel the tremor in her frame, and it hits me harder than I expect. This isn’t just exhaustion; this is fear, raw and heavy, settling deep in her bones.
“Everything is going to be okay,” I murmur, my voice soft but firm, dipping my head closer to hers. She doesn’t respond, doesn’t even look up, and the helplessness I feel claws at me. I press my hand gently to her back, guiding her forward, shielding her from everything around us—the fire, the noise, the crushing pressure of the current situation.
The uncertainty of everything.
As we reach the truck, I glance back briefly. Hopper and Malerick are still locked in a low argument, their voices blending with the distant wail of sirens and the crackle of flames. But I can’t focus on that. Not now.
I help Galeana into the truck, guiding her gently onto the seat before climbing in beside her. Once we’re settled, I wrap an arm around her, pulling her into a soft, reassuring hug, as if I could somehow ease the fear still gripping her. Whoever did this—whoever put that haunted look in her eyes—will regret it. That, I swear.
I don’t care what it costs me—her safety is the only thing that matters to me now.
ChapterTwenty-Three
Malerick’s handgrips the edge of his desk as he stares at the mess of papers spread across it. Floor plans of the Doherty mansion, maps of Birchwood Springs, and hastily scrawled notes litter every inch of the otherwise pristine surface. The window behind him is cracked open just enough to let in the crisp night air, but it doesn’t calm him. Nothing will tonight.
His phone buzzes.
“Gil?” he says as soon as he answers.
“Yeah, it’s me,” comes Gil’s gruff voice on the other end of the line. “Farrow’s here too. Your brother is safe in Seattle with his new bride.”
“Thank you for taking care of them. I feel like I put a target on them,” Malerick sighs not understanding where things went wrong. They were so careful, weren’t they?
“What’s the update, Timberbridge?” Gil requests.
Malerick scrubs a hand over his jaw, taking a moment before answering. “They weren’t trying to kill anyone. If they were, my brother and his bride would be dead,” he says, his voice low and measured, “but they were trying to send a message. That was a warning, not an attack. The explosion was calculated—it hit an isolated part of the mansion and didn’t spread. Not until they were out and safe.”
Silence stretches on the line for a beat before Gil speaks, his voice laced with irritation. “We didn’t think they’d actually do anything. They’ve been circling Birchwood Springs for months, sure, but this is different. They’ve escalated.”
“That’s an understatement,” Malerick mutters, dropping heavily into his chair. He glances at the papers again, trying to make sense of what feels like chaos. “My guess is that they lost the easy way to get Maple Haven—by taking it from Ms. Monroe legally. Now they’re trying to scare her. I bet the next move is offering her money to buy her out.”
“Probably. That’s the Hollow Syndicate MO,” Farrow replies. “They’ve been sniffing around for control of the town for a while now, but we thought they’d stay quiet—play the long game. Guess we were wrong. You got to be careful, next is Old Birchwood Timber.”
Malerick leans back in his chair, his jaw tight. The Hollow Syndicate. Birchwood Springs doesn’t get much in the way of organized trouble—this is a small town, not a crime capital. But the Hollow Syndicate isn’t just trouble. They’re a well-oiled operation with interests in buying up businesses, laundering money through seemingly harmless enterprises, and using quiet intimidation to get what they want. The best part is we’re just a few steps from Canada and not too far from the ports. They can smuggle product without being noticed. Not when they have a legit business to run.
“Ledger and Galeana were lucky,” Malerick says after a moment, his voice tight. “If that explosion had hit the kitchen—” He stops himself, unwilling to finish the thought.
Sure, he doesn’t get along with his brother, but Ledger’s his youngest brother and he loves him no matter what. He has to protect him.
“You’re right. They knew exactly what they were doing,” Farrow says calmly. “It was never about hurting them—yet. The syndicate doesn’t kill on the first move. They scare. They take. Then they settle in like termites until there’s nothing left.”
“And Galeana’s the termite target,” Gil adds. “That house, that business—it’s all hers now. It’s a big enough prize that the syndicate’s willing to get messy to control it. Their next step will be your family’s company.”
Malerick exhales slowly, gripping his phone tighter. “The marriage certificate’s been filed. The lawyers are finalizing the transfer of Doherty’s assets as we speak. Once it’s in Galeana’s hands, the property’s—including Maple Haven—officially hers. They know that.”
