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Clara Mae’s gaze didn’t waver. “I’ve seen what desperation looks like, Adam. And I’ve seen what it drives men to do. If Peter’s mixed up with these people, you need to find him fast before —”

“We won’t let before happen,” Claire said.

A creak on the porch cut off Clara Mae’s next word.

Adam was already moving toward the door.

He opened it to find nothing.

Just the wind.

But on the railing sat something new. Something that hadn’t been there earlier.

Peter’s bracelet.

Worse — tied to the half-moon band were red, crinkled strands of yarn. The tattered threads fluttered in the breeze, making them look like… blood.

They’d wondered. They’d hoped.

Now they knew the truth.

Peter hadn’t just taken off.

Adam stared at the band, then dropped to his knees. He bent over the deck and expelled everything in his stomach.

They had him.

* * *

Adam snatched the bracelet off the railing, gazing down at the… warning . He held the wooden bracelet in his palm, thumb brushing over the inscription carved into the wood. When he’d asked Peter about it, his brother had just waved him off, saying he’d found it.

Claire stepped beside him. “Is that…”

“It’s Peter’s.” Adam’s voice was low and certain. “He hasn’t taken it off since he found it a few years ago. Not once.”

“That’s because he didn’t find it. Juanita gave it to him,” Claire said. “I asked Peter about it. He said the word she inscribed means my heart .”

“They were close?”

Claire offered him a slow shake of her head. “Adam, you were so blind. You couldn’t see my affection for you, let alone a girl who loved Peter. That’s why he’s been so upset. He’s wondering who’s picking on Juanita if he’s not there to protect her.”

Clara Mae stood behind them now, holding her revolver like it was an extension of her arm. “Doesn’t matter where he got it now. This is a message.”

Adam ran a hand over his head. “Yeah. They want me to know they’ve got him.”

“Yes,” Clara Mae said.

Claire covered her mouth. “So, what’s next?”

“We find him,” Adam said. “And we don’t wait.”

* * *

By morning, a plan had formed.

Adam drove to the edge of the property where the old trapper’s cabin stood near the tree line. The building had been abandoned since long before Clara Mae bought the land. Rusty used to joke it was haunted.

Now Adam wasn’t laughing.

The door hung half-open. He stepped inside cautiously.

Nothing.

Just cobwebs and dust — and the unmistakable smell of cigarettes and sweat. Recent.

They’d been here.

A scuffed boot print marked the soft dirt floor. Size eleven, maybe twelve. Not Peter’s. Too big. And not fresh. Adam circled slowly, every nerve on edge.

Then he saw it — a strand of red thread, wedged in the splintered window frame.

Peter had been here. And someone had dragged him out.

Back at the ranch, Claire sat at the kitchen table, spreading out the old map of the valley Clara Mae had given them.

“If they were here, and they went east,” she murmured, “they could be in any one of these old mining shacks or hunting cabins.”

Clara Mae poured more coffee. “We used to have a forest ranger up here who mapped every back trail. I’ll see if I can find one of his old logbooks.”

Claire nodded, grateful. “Thank you.”

Before the older woman could leave the room, the phone rang.

Adam reached it first. “Hello?”

A pause.

Then static.

Finally a voice. “Wrong brother.”

Click.

The line went dead.

Adam slowly lowered the receiver.

Claire looked up, eyes wide. “What did they say?”

His jaw tightened. “They wanted Thomas… Rather, me .”

A silence dropped over the room like an avalanche.

Claire finally spoke. “So they took Peter to get to you.”

“Or because they thought he was me,” Adam said. “I’m hard to sneak up on. Peter made it easy for them.”

* * *

Adam sat on the porch steps, still clutching Peter’s bracelet. The wood dug into his palm like a silent rebuke.

Wrong brother .

He hadn’t realized how much power those words could hold. How much guilt could wrap itself around a heart and squeeze.

Claire stepped outside with a mug of coffee. She handed it to him, but he didn’t drink.

“He’s still alive,” she said softly. “Like me, they want something, which means he’s still alive.”

Adam nodded, but it felt like someone else’s head was moving. Someone outside himself, calmer. Less furious. The rage boiling under his skin needed a leash. Peter wouldn’t survive if Adam lost control.

“I need to go to Anchorage. I heard Thomas talking to one of his late-night clients once, about a truck stop. He told the guy he needed to meet someone off Muldoon Road, asked him to come with him.”

Claire stood, too. “Then I’m going with you.”

“No,” Adam said without hesitation. “You stay here. If they call again, we need someone on this end. And…” His voice dropped. “I don’t trust leaving Clara Mae alone, either. What if they come back? You, Clara Mae, and Rusty are safer together.”

Claire’s brow furrowed, but she nodded. “Okay. Just… please be careful.”

He gave her a quick kiss — too fast, too tight — and was already moving.

Anchorage felt bigger than usual, like the buildings themselves were watching him. He stopped at the largest truck stop off Muldoon Road. It had changed hands since their dad used to pass through with them, but the manager boasted that he’d been running the place since statehood.

“Big black Ford? Yeah. Always came in threes. Hard to miss ’em. Like a convoy. Been here several times in the last year. Used to park way in the back, near the old generator shed. Your brother always tipped decent, so I didn’t ask questions.”

“Anyone ever meet him inside? Talk to him?”

The man rubbed his chin. “Yeah. Stood out. Tall guy. Slick looking. Like one of those fluffballs in that GQ or somethin’. Didn’t say much. Had a strong accent.”

“You remember what kind of accent?”

“Damned if I know. If it ain’t English, it’s foreign to me.”

Adam made a mental note about the accent . “You remember when?”

“March or April, maybe.”

That would’ve been right before everything went south. Before Thomas sent Adam and Peter away.

He tried the connected diner next. The waitress wasn’t as old as the manager, but she had a few years on Clara Mae. Adam guessed her to be fifty-something.

She squinted when he showed her Thomas’s Coast Guard ID. “He looks like you.”

“He’s my brother, but this was taken a couple of years ago. His hair would have been longer when he stopped in a few months ago.”

“Cute. I remember him. Must’ve been a good tipper.”

“That’s what I’ve heard,” Adam said. “Do you remember who he was with?”

She leaned on the counter. “Not his face so much, but I remember one thing. The guy he met had a tattoo. Big rattlesnake coiling down his forearm.”

Adam froze.

“Rattlesnake?”

She nodded. “Clear as day. He was wearing a fancy stiff shirt and tie, unusual for ’round here, but his sleeves were rolled up.”

He slid a few dollars onto the counter. “Thanks.”

As he stepped back outside, Adam’s stomach turned.

A rattlesnake.

That was the symbol Thomas had absently drawn once on a napkin, about a year ago. “Cut off the head,” he’d muttered, “or it grows another.”

Adam had thought it was a joke. After all, snakes’ heads don’t grow back.

But… maybe it was a warning.

Boyd had said The snake .

If the guy with the rattlesnake tattoo was the one who wanted the stash, and they thought Peter had it…

Peter might not have much time.

Adam headed back to the truck, gripping the wheel with white knuckles.

They’d taken the wrong brother.

But Adam would find him.