Page 39 of Holiday Scars

“They work for Fallon’s father,” Trace says.

“Yeah, she and Rhys were heading to her dad’s house last night.” I shake my head. “What did Rhys do?”

“Her father kicked Rhys out of the house, and he’s holding Fallon against her will. I think my brother is about to take matters into his own hands and kill a lot of people along the way.”

My blood turns to ice. “Shit.”

“I’m sending you the coordinates,” Trace says. “Go now. Don’t call Rhys. He’s not picking up. Just find out what the hell is happening and report back to me.”

The line goes dead, but I’m already out of bed, yanking on jeans, my ass stinging.

Jett stares at me. “What’s going on?”

Pulling on my boots, I say, “Stay here, I have to—”

“Not a chance,” he says, reaching for his jacket. “I heard Trace on the other end. You’re not walking into a town full of contract killers by yourself.”

I stop for a second, just looking at him. The steadiness in his eyes shows the kind of loyalty I’ve missed so much these last weeks with him working for Shane.

Jett grabs his guns and nods toward the door. “Let’s go.”

And as we step out into the cold holiday morning with hints of more snow, families are opening presents, sipping coffee, and living ordinary lives. Jett and I are off to spy on killers.

I think about Rhys, how far he’s gone for the woman he loves. Someone he never saw coming.

My future was in front of me the whole time. And I would never have known or taken a chance if a text didn’t land in my inbox by mistake.