Page 32 of Not This Place

Ethan nodded, pulling out his phone with one hand while he kept his gun trained on Joseph with the other. His voice was low as he relayed the situation to dispatch.

Rachel slowly approached Joseph, her own weapon still drawn but no longer aimed at him.

"You had a choice," she said, her tone flat, though inwardly she felt a pang of grief. "You both did."

Joseph didn't respond, his body shaking with grief. She looked over at Ethan, who hung up his phone and gave her a curt nod. The cavalry was coming.

These men had likely been the ones who’d shot at Aunt Sarah.

But who had tried to shoot Alice Danvers, then? These men? It seemed unlikely.

They weren't connected to Danvers Corp as far as Rachel knew. No. Joseph and John had come hunting for her because she'd disturbed their hidey-hole in the off-grid community.

She’d gone looking for answers, and answers had come calling.

She released a slow, pent-up breath.

She'd hoped to find answers, but now all she had were more questions. How was Alice Danvers involved in her daughter's death? Where was Jake Shields, the missing boyfriend?

Other questions followed these. Questions involving the death of her mother… Now, the two most likely suspects lay on the roof. One of them dead, the other one blaming Rachel for his brother’s demise.

If she wanted answers to any of it, she couldn’t afford any more mistakes.

Time was not on her side.

CHAPTER TEN

The dust billowed in the wake of Lazarus's truck, a choking cloud that hung over the rutted dirt road. Each jostle of the vehicle sent a spike of agony through his side, a vicious reminder of the bullet wound just below his ribs. His jaw clenched tight, a growl slipping from between gritted teeth.

"Damn you, Alice," he spat, pressing one hand against the sticky warmth that seeped through his makeshift bandage. The pain was a live thing, an animal clawing at his insides.

The truck's headlights cut a swath through the darkness of the Texas night, illuminating the path that twisted ahead like a serpent through the scrubland. With each passing mile, Lazarus's grip on the steering wheel tightened, knuckles whitening as he steered closer to retribution.

Eventually, the engine's rumble fell silent as Lazarus brought the truck to a halt. No grace in his movements, he swung the door open, his boots hitting the ground with a dull thud. He stood for a moment, the world around him still save for the spinning of his head.

It had all been going so well.

He’d tracked her to the gas station. Pulled up alongside…

But she had a sixth sense. She’d moved.

And now he was the one suffering.

One breath. Two. Then he forced himself forward. Each step was a battle, his body protesting, demanding surrender. But surrender was not a word that existed in Lazarus’s lexicon. He stumbled, caught himself, and lumbered on. There was no room for weakness now, not when he was so close.

Legacy was a powerful word.

Family. Lineage.

Things that felt as if they were from a bygone era.

He went further, pushed harder. Because he knew what was coming. He could see the writing on the wall.

"Keep moving," he grunted, the words barely audible above the crunch of gravel beneath his feet. His shadow stretched out before him, a dark omen on the path to what needed to be done. There could be no stopping. Not yet.

Lazarus approached the gate. The metal was cold, unyielding beneath his touch. He didn't bother with stealth; his mission left no room for subtlety. With one swift motion, he lifted the latch and pushed through, the gate groaning in protest as it swung open. The path beyond was narrow, hemmed in on both sides by wild brush that clawed at his clothes, snagging fabric and flesh alike.

His boots scuffed the dirt, a steady thrum against the earth as he ascended. Pain flared with each step, a constant companion he had long since learned to endure. Darkness clung to the edges of the road, but Lazarus's eyes remained fixed ahead, where the outline of the farmhouse materialized against the night sky. It stood solitary, an island in a sea of shadow.

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