Page 2 of Property of Mako (Kings of Anarchy MC: Louisiana #1)

Quiet Things That Break

Lyra

The stallion shifted under my hand, tense and restless beneath the morning mist. Muscles rippled along his flanks as if his skin could feel the storm coming before the sky knew it. He likely could—animals sensed more than we gave them credit for.

I didn’t flinch. I held my palm steady against the chestnut horse’s neck, grounding him with nothing more than a steady breath and the kind of silence that told him, “I’m still here. You’re safe.”

I knew how to speak without speaking. Most things with four legs preferred it that way. It wasn’t something I told most people about because they’d never believe me.

The sun hadn’t quite risen over Talon Ridge, the rundown equine rescue I managed just outside of Red Hollow.

At one time, Red Hollow had been a massive plantation—nearly self-sufficient to the point that after the original owners had been killed in the Civil War, it had remained as a small thriving town.

We were only to the west of New Orleans—minutes away, really—but far enough away that it seemed we were in the middle of nowhere. As if we were in our own little world.

I knew the rest of the plantation was nothing more than a tax write-off for the owner. But to me, this little part of it I’d kept was my sanity—my safe place.

My home.

The barn creaked around me, followed by a chorus of hoofbeats, breath, and a wind chime of halters. The scent of pine shavings and hay clung to my worn denim jacket and skin, earthy and clean—the only perfume I’d ever need.

I preferred horses to people. Always had.

People lied—said they’d always be there for you. Horses never betrayed you like that.

That morning was supposed to be ordinary: feed, muck, train, repeat. But my phone buzzed in my back pocket—a rarity, since only one person ever really called, and she was in her bed sleeping.

With a sigh, I held the lead rope in one hand and dug it out with the other.

The sheriff’s department? I had them saved to my phone as I’d called it before for stray animals and once for a poacher. Also, with two women living alone in a fairly remote area, I always thought it was smart.

Except, I certainly didn’t expect the words that followed.

“Hey, is this Lyra Callahan?” the deep but raspy voice asked.

“Yes. Who’s this?” My brow pinched.

“This is Deputy Fallon. You’re the legal guardian of Lily Callahan?” he asked.

“…Yes. Is something wrong?” My heart skipped a beat before it began to pound.

“We found her phone in a ditch off the highway this morning not far from the Browns’ place. We stopped by there cuz Deputy Jasper knew she hangs out with their middle daughter. They said she got a ride home from a friend,” he drawled.

“Yes, she was there, and she did get a ride home from a classmate.” At least that’s what she’d told me. “She was home by ten.”

“Ma’am… I’m sorry to tell you this, but she was seen with a young man at the Chevron on Bloom Street. She willingly got in his car. We think she ran away.”

Ran away?

No. Not Lily. Not the girl who carried pepper spray in her bra and triple-locked the door on the rare occasion when I wasn’t home. That was impossible.

“Why would you possibly think that? I believe you’re mistaken. Maybe she accidentally lost her phone, but she’s here. Are you sure you’re talking about my Lily?” I was getting pissed off at his attitude. “What did you say your name was?”

“Deputy Fallon,” he slowly repeated as if I was stupid.

“I’ve never heard of you. Are you sure this isn’t some kind of joke?”

“This is no joke.”

While I still had him on the phone, I put the stallion in his stall and marched to the house. I slammed the wooden screen door open, and it banged off the peeling, wooden siding.

“Lily!” I called out. “Lily!” I shouted louder as I stormed toward her room. When I got in there to find her with her earbuds in, I was going to rip this asshole a new one.

Three quick raps on the door and I swung it wide.

“Lily?” But she wasn’t there.

Her backpack sat open by her scarred-up desk that we’d found on the side of the road last year. Her jacket hung crooked on the back of the chair. My eyes went to the single-pane window.

Locked. No signs of a struggle—but the house felt wrong.

Still. Empty.

As if something had reached in through the shadows and taken something vital without leaving a single mark.

* * *

I sat in the beat-up pickup truck, knuckles white on the wheel, heart a furnace of disbelief and dread. A car honked and I jumped. A glance up showed the light was green. I hit the gas.

They had already filed the report under “voluntary absence.” I wasn’t stupid. I knew what that meant: teen girl, troubled home, probably ran off with a boy or a bag of pills.

Except Lily wasn’t like that. Not anymore.

Not after what happened.

I’d demanded to speak with this Deputy Fallon. I’d been told he was off duty. The deputy I spoke with was familiar to me, but he acted like he barely knew me. He blankly handed me Lily’s phone and said, “I’m sorry your sister ran off.”

When I tried to question him, he gave me a small smile. “I have a call I need to make,” he cut in and then turned and walked away.

With no other recourse, I’d picked up the plastic bag her phone had been placed in and left.

I slammed the brakes harder than necessary as I turned off the gravel road, dust choking out the view behind me. I didn’t cry. Not yet. Crying was for when things broke—really broke. Right now, I had a job to do.

Find my sister.

After parking the old truck that had belonged to our father, I took a deep breath and went inside our small home. It had been the old caretaker’s cabin, which meant it was historical but drafty and constantly needing repairs.

I started my search at Lily’s bedroom. As I stood in the doorway, I stared at the mussed bedding. I was forever after Lily to make the dang bed. Tears threatened.

Sniffling, I shook my head and got to work.

The first thing I noticed was that her sketchbook peeking from her open backpack.

Why would she have left her sketchbook and her bag?

She was especially protective and careful with her drawings.

She rarely showed them to anyone, though she was supremely talented.

Her phone had been in the ditch, so I’m assuming she had taken it with her. Yet she was a teenager, they were connected to their phones like umbilical cords. So why was it in the ditch? My chest clenched because I knew that was bad. So bad.

Other than that, there was nothing remarkable. In fact, I couldn’t see that any of her clothing was missing. Then again, I didn’t know everything that girl had.

None of it made any sense.

Running a shaking hand through my tangled curls that had fallen over my head, I fought those damn tears again. Instead, I redid my messy bun and left the house. Lily rarely went anywhere anymore, but I needed to talk to her few friends to see if she’d said anything to them.

As I turned to the door, I paused. A glint caught my eye. Slowly, I approached Lily’s nightstand. Sitting on the worn wood was the necklace I had given her.

She never took it off.

I swallowed the lump in my throat and picked hers up. The cool metal chain slid through my fingers like liquid. Why would she leave this behind?

* * *

In what was left of the day, I asked questions. Knocked on doors. Called every friend, ex, classmate, and teacher Lily had ever mentioned. They all said the same thing.

“I don’t know. She was quiet lately.”

“Said she felt watched.”

“Wouldn’t let me give her a ride home anymore.”

Then came the rumors I would hear whispered as I entered the diner for a late lunch.

Lily ran away.

Lily was doing those things again.

Lily met a guy online and ran off with him .

I was exhausted and the day was barely half over.

When the sun began to go down, I had to admit defeat for the day. I still had horses to feed and water. Stalls to clean. I hadn’t worked a single one of them.

Shoulders sagging, I headed home, and in a daze, I did my chores.

It was full dark before I shuffled inside.

The house was eerily silent as I stood at the window staring out into the dark.

A shiver skated down my spine like cold fingers.

My gaze narrowed as it swept over the yard and out into the shadows that led to the swamps.

When the overwhelming, sinister feeling of being watched hit me, I jerked the curtains closed. It stirred the scent of dust and time.

I found myself wandering quickly through the house, closing curtains I wasn’t sure I’d ever closed since moving in. Something was happening. Something bad.

And if no one was going to help me figure it out, I’d damn well do it myself.

When I literally could not keep my eyes open, I got ready for bed. Before climbing between the crisp sheets, I peeked outside once more.

That night, the stars were clear. Still. Brightly watching. Like they were waiting for something to happen.

Or someone to wake up.