Page 311 of Heart So Hollow

A few seconds later, Dallas sighs and spins on her heel, heading back across the barn toward us. I thought we might startle her, but she looks completely unbothered that anyone is still here. She flashes us a smile and waltzes back into the fresh air, breaking into a jog to join Brett, Sergei, and Ray.

When I look back at Alex, he glances at me with a slight smile and steps past me with a shake of his head.

I don’t know what the hell Dallas was doing, but this just goes to show that Lutzes don’t forgive, and they don’t forget a goddamn thing. I don’t know what became of Bowen’s mortal remains, but I do know that his blood spilled in the ruins of this barn is about to go up in flames. It’s just as I promised him; this doesn’t end until he turns himself in or he’s dead. And frankly, I think it turned out the best of both worlds.

Some might feel cheated by the fact that a trial by jury would never happen. Some might also feel cheated that Bowen’s reign of terror ended so abruptly. One year ago, I would’ve felt the same.

But things change—plans change.

Before, my plan for retribution was much more involved. Yes, Brett would always be the one to leave Bowen of her own accord. But I was to be the executioner, delivering a long, agonizing death that would only be a drop in the bucket compared to the pain Evie and Emily endured. It’s pain I don’t fully comprehend because no one else was there and if Bowen was ever going to divulge, he sure as hell can’t now.

The truth is, I never could’ve done this if I were still the bad-tempered, impulsive kid I used to be. Fine, I’m still bad-tempered, but definitely not as impulsive. But when Bowen lost his shit and threw a hissy fit that night one year ago, I amended the plan.

It didn’t happen overnight. There were more pressing matters at hand, like making sure Brett was safe and then bringing her here and letting her recover whatever shreds of her life Bowen didn’t completely destroy. She wrote another book after he stole the first one and focused on healing the deep wounds he left. And she made me do the same. Granted, everyone has a different idea of what healing means. Ultimately, I was still out for blood.

Brett indulges me a lot, but when she first told me about her idea to lure Bowen out here, to end this on her terms, I told her absolutely not. After that, she didn’t speak to me for a week. Fortunately, that’s all she didn’t do for a week. I love talking to her, but there are other ways to communicate that don’t involve words, and sometimes those are even better. But the more I thought about it, the more sense it made.

Bowen would never stop, and we all knew it. Whatever fixation he had when we were kids only intensified and just extended like thorny vines to the rest of us. He needed gone, and he needed to be exposed in the process, whether in a court of law or not made no difference. Fortunately, the others had the same idea and their plans were already set in motion before I said one word to Brett in that parking lot at Wolfsson.

Brett’s book got Bowen’s attention, just like she thought it would. Dallas’s internet activity lit a fire under his ass and drew him out. And as soon as we knew he was here, I went hunting. That part wasn’t a lie. I did go hunting—for Bowen. And during that time, there were only three scenarios.

Plan A was me taking the shot as soon as Bowen physically opened a door or window to our house. There are no guarantees when shooting someone in the back. That is, unless they’re actively entering your home without permission.

Plan B was Brett taking the shot if Bowen did get inside the house. This should’ve been the end of it, but a jammed gun is the definition of a wild card.

Enter Plan C. If you act like you’re unarmed even when you are, you’ll look for the next escape plan and be ready. Three people running through the forest shooting at each other is a recipe for disaster, so the barn was always the last resort.

In the end, the only outcome is that Bowen is dead and everyone knows what he did. Because why else would you follow your ex-girlfriend across the country to murder her after she writes a book exposing your secrets and lies? The fact that it took Tammy Moreau the same amount of time to build a case against him was just icing on the cake.

There was only ever one of us who was going to make it out of Brett’s story alive. Only one of us who was going to make it to the last page in one piece. Only one voice left to say how it ends…or begins. Because now that I have her, I’ll set this entire world on fire before I ever leave her again.

You could’ve taken the shot, they’ll say, just like Sergei did. But, no, I couldn’t. That wasn’t part of the plan. I was backup, and that’s it. Because the final shot was supposed to be hers.

Sure, it wasn’t a bullet that took Bowen out, but it’s probably better that way. Brett’s never been a fan of guns.

She’s more of a knife girl anyway…

CHAPTER EIGHTY-SEVEN

Brett

Two Weeks Later

Three years to think about you, Bowen said that night around the campfire.

Colson did have three years, and I wish it was less, even if he did scare the hell out of me. I wish I’d stopped and listened to him a day later rather than years later in the middle of a parking lot. But we can’t go back to single moments in time and roll the dice for a different outcome. Bad things happen, and there’s no reason for any of it. We are a chaotic blend of joys and tragedies woven together by sticky webs that fuse to our flesh when we get too close to one another.

The spiders know, for as long as they’ve been living in the crevices and joists of the ramshackle barn on the mountain. Unfortunately, they too will have to move on because we’re about to ruin their day. Ray Marcum promised the guys beer as soon as the barn is reduced to a smoldering pile of ash. And in the meantime, the nine of us have the privilege of watching them ignite it multiple times and practice putting each fire out before finally digging into Sergei’s bag of tricks.

Dallas, Sydney, Tyler, and I sit far back, perched on the quads a safe distance from the inferno. It feels like I’m at one of the bonfires we used to have on the beach back in high school. I’d walk through my backyard with my friends and splash through the waves until the sun dipped low enough to bring a chill to the air. Then we would stay on the sand late into the night, breathing in the sweet wood smoke mixed with summer air.

Sometimes I still don’t know how I ended up here, but I finally feel like I’m home, sitting on this mountain, burning down a barn with my family and 10 volunteer firefighters. Under my trees, on my dirt…

“Throw it!” a blonde kid who looks like he’s fresh out of high school yells.

I catch Sergei’s silhouette against the orange glow as he lobs something into the middle of the flames. There’s a thunderous boom and a flash of green, followed by whoops and hollers near the tree line. When I glance over at Dallas, her mouth is affixed in a broad grin, her eyes wide with excitement. Colson, Mason, Aiden, and Alex stand behind Sergei, all laughing like I’ve never seen them before.

I give Dallas’s arm a nudge and motion to them across the clearing, “Is that what they all used to be like before?”

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