Page 17

17

NATHANIEL

F ire reflects off my eyes. The flames are fifty feet away, but I can feel the warmth against my body. Embers are floating in the air, and if it were anyone else, I would think this was beautiful, but this is absolutely heinous.

This was a home. A safe space for people to conduct consensual business, but dickhead Dalton with his merry men destroyed it all.

Memories built here are all gone within minutes.

A loud explosion from inside The Ranch caused the roof to collapse and the exterior walls to fold in on top of itself. The fire department only arrived a few minutes before I did. There was no saving it, only containing it so the fire didn’t spread to the forest surrounding the building or other rural homes in the area. Greta called me in a panic, breathless and almost speechless from being in disbelief to what she was witnessing. She was going to call Elijah next so I could focus on her granddaughter. I was at the house, in my office, and ran upstairs to grab Rylee, but only her new kitten was there, curled in a tiny ball on her bed sleeping.

There was no time to search for her, and there would be no reason for her to be at The Ranch, so I wasn’t worried. Getting into D’s Bugatti, I ripped out of the compound and headed straight to Greta, and now we are standing next to each other, witnessing the great destruction of her life's work and her family's home.

Shortly after arriving, Elijah sent a message saying he had Rylee and would be right over. I have no concept of how much time has passed since that correspondence was sent, everything seems to be moving in slow motion around me. Some of the girls and other employees stand alongside us in horror. Faintly I can hear their whimpers and gasps, but nothing seems real.

My phone goes off, which is still in my hand; my brain barely registers it, and my body doesn’t move. When it goes off again, slowly I bring it to my vision. It’s the two-minute later reminder. Time is moving, but I am standing still.

What I am reading doesn’t register initially, squinting with even my glasses on; I need to reread it several times.

Unknown

You took my head, now I will take yours.

A hand touches my arm, and I startle. Looking up, it’s a distraught Greta. Her face is red and swollen, tears stream down her cheeks, and worry from the unknown fills her eyes. Stealing Brad’s head was really fucking stupid. I haven’t had an opportunity to further dive into that with my son, but it doesn’t matter; it’s done. It would not have stopped this from happening. But we can stop whatever they have planned next.

“They’re here,” Greta states while wiping her eyes with a tissue.

Looking over my shoulder, I see Elijah and Thomas getting out of the Range Rover, but no Rylee. Spinning around, I walk toward them. Elijah must sense my concern because he points to the back with his bat. “She’s in there.” I nod and rush over. He and Thomas pass me and go to Greta.

Opening the back door, Rylee’s face is pale with wide eyes and a quivering bottom lip.

She’s in shock.

I notice her hands are trembling in her lap and her leg begins to bounce in place.

From what sounds like a million miles away, I can hear Elijah shouting. More fire and rescue workers disperse around us, I think I see red and blue flashing lights peeking in through the windshield, chaos has ensued, but my focus is on her.

Rylee’s beautiful, dark, long hair hangs over her shoulder, and a few pieces try to cover her face from me. My hand reaches forward and tucks them gently behind her ear. I then cup her face, my thumb rubbing her soft skin. “I’m going to fix this.” It’s a promise.

She doesn’t acknowledge me; I am unsure if she even heard what I said, so I repeat myself. “I’m going to fix this, Puppet.”

Her eyes shift to look at me. There she is.

“Where’s Greta?”

Stepping back, I let go of her face and hold my hand out to her. Lifting her own, which is trembling, she places hers into mine and hops out of the back seat.

Moving her head slowly as she takes in the scene before falling into herself, loud sobs follow, as she covers her face with her hands. I move quickly, wrapping my arms around her in an effort to comfort. I don’t speak, I just let us be in the moment, allowing us to both feel everything we need to.

This isn’t just a house to her. The Ranch is the last place she spent time with her mom, where memories were built and experiences were shared. This was Rylee’s safe place and it’s been stolen from her.

Neither of us moved; I could stand here for hours if she needed me to. But she breaks the silence with her soft voice. “How did he find out?”

I kiss the top of her head, my lips moving against her hair. “I don’t think he knows.” Blowing out a deep sigh, I squeeze my eyes as I continue. “I have reason to believe this has to do with the disappearance of Brad’s head. It definitely escalated things before when we had originally anticipated everything to kick off. I am so sorry, Puppet.”

Rylee sobs harder into my chest. Wearing just a white tee, I can feel her tears soaking through the fabric and my heart fucking hurts for my sweet girl.

Elijah always means well, but this time he has fucked up royally. And instead of him paying for it, Greta, Rylee, and all the others who relied on The Ranch are suffering.

Catching me off guard, Rylee’s hands brace on my chest and push me away. My feet stumble over one another from the sudden movement.

“Get away from me!” she shrieks. “And stay away from my family.”

I don’t get the opportunity to respond because she is already walking past me to get to her grandmother. I love my kid, but today I am really questioning why. He acts so impulsively sometimes and never deals with the consequences of his actions, I am always left cleaning up after him. And I know he can’t fucking help it, but dammit.

My phone buzzes again. Looking down at it, another message has come through, this time it’s Rain, and whenever I see her or we talk, I thank whoever I need to for bringing her to us. And as I read what she’s typed, all my reactionary resentment washes away.

Rain

I gotchu, Papa. Our boy will have to learn one day lol.

She has slowly started to call me Papa shortly after finding out they were pregnant, maybe to prepare me, but a part of me hopes it’s because she can trust me, and I protect and love her as if she were my own blood.

We are so similar, always on the same wavelength, and she can put Elijah in his place with the snap of her fingers, and it’s a pleasure to watch. He can also bring out her crazy, which I always get a kick out of. They truly balance each other. Soulmates and partners for life, without a doubt in my mind.

But before Rain gets to him, I need him to do something for us.

Turning around, the house is pretty much gone; the flames still roar and everything is burning with the exception of the wooden swing set in the yard.

A few people come up to me. Their mouths are moving, but I can’t hear anything they are saying. My mind is racing, planning and analyzing which move makes the most sense without risking more loss.

Dalton is reacting, he isn’t thinking. He is likely celebrating this victory. Father like son, both arrogant and narcissistic.

I shout, “ELIJAH!” Everyone around me freezes.

Casually, he walks up to me. “Yeah?”

“Handle it,” is all I have to say for him to understand.

He nods and calls out, “Thomas.”

Right, because he can’t go anywhere without his pet anymore.

Looking to Thomas, he says, “Involve the Antichrist.”

He very seriously responds, “Of course, Duke.”

They both take off to the waiting Range Rover and peel out of here in a hurry.

I give Greta and Rylee space to mourn and keep an eye on them from a distance.

Pulling my phone back out, I message D.

It’s go time, brother.

D

He responds with a thumbs-up.

Fabulous. His enthusiasm is always top fucking tier.

Hair has fallen over my forehead, my fingers push it back, with Rogers being next on my list of people to call. He answers after the first ring, eagerly, but I speak before he can. “We need to find a house for the others to work out of that’s safe. I don’t want them losing money or clients because of this shit.” I don’t wait for his response before hanging up, simply because I don’t have time to waste. I then send a quick message to Ryder, letting him know that shit is maybe going down. He is supportive and offers help if needed.

The parts are moving and the pieces are in play.

Things that would normally stress people out get my dick hard. This is my championship game, the final battle in the war, and we are going all fucking in.