49
FELICITY
My blood turned to ice the second those headlights cut through the rain.
I knew those SUVs.
Lord help me?—
I knew them.
The lead vehicle fishtailed slightly as it came up the muddy drive before correcting hard.
Black Suburbans.
Armor-plated.
The exact same convoy that used to roll up to my father’s ranch in the middle of the night.
The same vehicles I watched from my bedroom window as a teenager while men in expensive boots disappeared into Dad’s office for hours.
Men he never let me meet.
Men who always smelled like smoke, whiskey, and danger.
“Oh God…” I whispered.
Hersh turned instantly. “Flick?”
I couldn’t breathe for a second.
Because suddenly I was nineteen again.
Standing halfway down the staircase while my father yelled at me to go back upstairs.
“Daddy—”
“NOW, Felicity!”
Not angry.
Terrified.
I’d never heard fear in his voice before that night.
And afterward…
he stopped letting me near the meetings completely.
Stopped inviting me to dinners.
Stopped bringing me into town.
Stopped letting me around the ranch staff unless absolutely necessary.
At the time, I thought he was ashamed of me somehow.
Or disappointed.
