Page 22

Moonlight spills across Paradise Falls like a damn phantom, lighting up the fields and barns in silver and shadow. Everything out here feels like it’s watchin’ us, like the land remembers all the blood, sweat, and betrayal it’s soaked up over the years.

Sophie walks beside me, her fingers brushing mine every few steps. Feels like lightning every damn time. She’s quiet, but her mind’s workin’ overtime. I can see it in the way her stoic face and her eyes won’t meet mine.

“I found some old letters,” she says, voice soft, but tight. She pulls a heavy iron key from her pants pocket and unlocks the door to the oldest barn on the property. “Dad kept them hidden. They hint at some kind of secret. Something to do with the farm.”

The second we step inside, I’m hit with the smell, aged bourbon, dust, old hay, and secrets that’ve been sealed up too long. The place groans like it’s got somethin’ to say. Floor creaks under our boots as she leads me toward the back, where a rusted trunk sits like a damn tomb.

She drops to her knees and flips open the lid. Yellowed letters tied in faded ribbon, the kind of thing you don’t just forget about. I crouch beside her, watching her hands, small, steady, work through history.

She frowns, skimming the top page. “Looks like business dealings gone wrong. My father’s handwriting. Payments made secretly… something about a debt.”

“Debt?” I mutter, leaning in. My gut’s already churnin’. “To who?”

She meets my eyes, and there it is, fear, clear and sharp. “The Pearly Gates Community. Your adopted father… Reverend Crowley.”

I’m fumin’. “Figures. Ezekiel always had his fingers in somebody else’s pockets. That bastard’s deeper in this than I thought.”

Before she can say a damn word, the whole barn shudders. I look up and there’s a faint glint on the beam overhead… like a wire. A sick crack echoes through the air, sharp and violent.

Sophie gasps, grabbing my arm. “What the hell…”

The barn groans again, louder this time. I hear the snap of support beams giving way.

“We gotta go. Now!” I bark, hauling her to her feet.

We make a break for the door just as the roof behind us caves in with a thunderous crash. Dust explodes into the air. Through the cloud, I catch a flicker of movement, figures sprinting off into the fields. A laugh follows, echoing in the darkness, cold, taunting.

“Who the hell was that?” she pants, eyes wide and wild.

“Trouble,” I growl, fingers locking around hers. “Come on.”

My blood’s pumpin’ now, adrenaline in my veins like jet fuel. We take off, boots pounding the ground. Behind us, I hear them, footsteps, fast, chasing.

Sophie stumbles, nearly eats it, but I’m already catching her, scooping her up without missing a beat.

She wraps around me like she belongs there, breath hot on my neck.

Then. C rack crack crack.

Gunfire.

Bullets slice through the dark, too close for comfort. Dirt kicks up near my boots. I grit my teeth and push harder, heart slammin’ in my chest. I’m not stoppin’. Not with her in my arms.

We hit the porch. I shoulder the door open so hard it rattles off the frame, kick it shut behind us, then throw the bolt.

Breath ragged, I press her tighter to my chest, heart still thunderin’, but the fight’s not over. Not yet. Her breath shakes against my neck, but her eyes… they’re hard now. Not broken. Just more fire.

Whoever came for us tonight? They just signed their own damn death sentence.