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Sophie said yes. After all these years. Said she didn’t want Paradise Falls. Said she wanted me.

Hell, I almost dropped to my knees right then and there.

Instead, I kissed her stupid. Told her to be back in an hour, and here I am, gettin’ the horse ready like it’s just another ride through the woods.

The old barn creaks, wind whistlin’ like ghosts of the past don’t want me to go.

I cinch the saddle, whisper to the mare, and that’s when I hear him.

“You ain’t takin’ her nowhere.”

I turn fast.

James Montgomery. All of fourteen, puffed-up with his daddy’s anger and too much pride. Standing there with his arms crossed, tryin’ real damn hard to look like a man. He’s still got dirt on his chin from bein’ a boy.

“Go home, James,” I say, stepping toward him slow. “Ain’t your business.”

“It is when you’re stealing my sister. And my mama’s favorite horse. Plan on killin’ it like you did the last one.”

I halted, gritting my teeth. “You don’t know what the hell you’re talkin’ about.”

“I heard you,” he snaps, voice crackin’ just a little. “You’re gonna take her away. Run off like the criminal you are. You don’t belong here, Hudson.”

I’m about to let him have it, about to drag him out by the collar, when he bolts.

Damn near faster than the horse.

I curse under my breath, leap up to finish bridling the mare, but it’s too late.

By the time I walk her out of the barn, blue lights are already flickerin’ up the lane like vultures. But they’re silent.

Two cruisers block the road. Sheriff Milton and Deputy Dix. Local good ol’ boys. One’s a drunk, the other’s dumber than a stump.

I look to the left, thinkin’ of racin’ off, but I don’t wanna leave Sophie behind. Maybe I can talk my way out of this. We can sneak off later tonight.

I rein the mare in, heart poundin’ hard. I raise both hands.

“Evenin’, officers.”

“Hudson Welles,” Milton says, his voice already smug. “You’re under arrest.”

“For what?”

“Attempted theft of livestock. Montgomery boy says you were stealin’ his mama’s prize mare.”

I laugh. “That’s bullshit. Just saddled her up, takin’ her out to ride with Sophie.”

Milton laughs. “Now that’s some bullshit. We all know you’re not supposed to be on Montgomery property, and we all know why.”

“Sophie Montogomery knows I’m here. Just ask her.”

Dix shrugs, already moving toward me with cuffs. “Tell it to the judge.”

There won’t be a judge.

Not that night.

Not the next.

They throw me in the old holding cell behind the courthouse, the same jail my great-great-grandfather laid brick on. The place smells like mold and piss, the cot’s rusted through, and the metal toilet runs nonstop. No arraignment. No hearing. Just four walls and silence.

I wait.

A day turns to two. Then a week.

I pound the bars. Yell. Threaten.

Nothing.

I starve between trays with oats and crusts of bread. Drink water out of the toilet. Somethin’s not right. This ain’t what I hear the old folks complain about, their tax dollars, feeding and housing prisoners.

And then he shows up.

Reverend Ezekiel Crowley. Black suit, no tie, shirt open, gold cross glinting in the light, hair slicked back like a damn televangelist from hell.

He stands outside the bars, smilin’ like he already owns my soul.

“Hudson,” he says, voice sugarcoated. “Why did you abandon your family? Leave Pearly Gates. You were chosen.”

“You gonna bail me out or just preach at me?”

His smile drops.

“You tried to run. To forsake your destiny. This is the Lord’s way of correcting your path.”

I step up to the bars, grip them hard. “You had ‘em leave me in here. You told ‘em to.”

“You’ll thank me someday.”

He walks off before I can cuss him out properly.

I spend two more weeks in that cell.

Rotting.

Thinking about Sophie. About her waiting in that barn with a bag. About the look on her face when I didn’t show.

She probably thinks I left her.

Hell, if it ain’t startin’ to feel like I left myself.

Then one morning, the door opens and in walks the last person I expected.

Mike Welles. Legendary Mike, with a belt buckle that says so.

My fucking old man.

Longer hair, new tattoos, leather cut over a faded tee that says, “Ride Free or Die Tryin’.”

He lights a cigarette right there in the hallway, nods at the deputy like he’s in charge, and spits on the floor.

“What the hell?” I mutter.

He looks at me. “You ready to get outta here?”

“What about the charges?”

He grins. “What charges? Ain’t no judge in this county botherin’ with petty horse theft. Jail’s closin’ down, anyway.”

“What?”

“Town moved the courthouse last month. Over by the strip mall, next to the gun shop. New jail’s two counties over. This place? It’s just here for tradition and mold.”

Stepping out, I breathe in the air like it's the first time in ages. I make two tight fists. I'm as mad as a hornet.

“They kept me here for nothin’.”

He shrugs. “Not nothin’. They were makin’ a point.”

“Who?”

“Who else? Montgomery’s.” He spit again, this time with a burning rage.

My eyes burn. “Sophie…”

“Girl, turned you in, I heard.”

I nearly vomit. I should’ve known she wasn’t serious about me.

He tosses me a helmet. “C’mon. Put on this brain bucket. Got your ride out back.”

Outside sits a black and chrome chopper, loud and gleamin’.

“Where the hell you been all these years?” I ask, holding back all the pent-up anger. Him disappearing, me stuck with the town preacher, nut case.

He throws a weathered arm over my shoulder. “California. With a guy named Big Daddy. We’re startin’ somethin’ new. A chapter here. Hell needs kings, son. You ready to raise some fucking hell?”

I stare out at what used to be my town, Paradise, already half abandoned, signs fading, half of it turned into a revival tent.

And I know there’s no going back.

Sophie’s gone.

So is Hudson Welles.

I take the helmet.

“Let’s raise some fucking hell.” I flinch for a moment, for the blow that doesn’t land. Talkin’ like that in front of the Reverend would’ve earned me a sharp slap across my mouth.

Dad only laughs low and deep, pattin’ me on the back like I did good. “That’s my boy.”