Page 100 of Westin

WESTIN

I’m eaten alive by guilt.

She was never safe there. I should never have listened to her. I should have paid attention instead and acted, regardless of what she wanted. But I was so consumed by what I wanted—her—that I didn’t realize how much she was willing to endure to save her land.

I’ll regret that until I die.

And I’m going to do everything I can to fix it.

I take Rocky, and we retrieve Thomas’ body. It’s frozen solid, which makes it easier to pull behind as I ride back out to his house. Avery still sits at the table, his body bound. Before I left, I took a second to turn off the heat. He’s frozen too.

My breath rises in white puffs as I drag Thomas’ body into the kitchen and drop it on the floor. Then, I move to the bedroom, a thick bandana over my face, to where Diane slept.

Hanging from the ceiling is a rope, looped through a metal hook. It’s tied to the door, and there’s a knotted end laying on the bed. It takes me a second, but I realize it’s an alarm system.

I pull back the pillow. Underneath is Jensen’s gun.

It’s no wonder she slept for days. She lived in a prison of fear, never knowing when the Garrisons would turn on her. Guilt, nowfamiliar, floods my chest. If I had known it was this bad, I would have shot them all and taken her home, to hell with what she or Sovereign wanted.

I’d have dragged her kicking and screaming out of here.

Her things are ice cold in the dresser drawer. I gather them up, but she barely has anything of worth. Her toiletries consist of a bar of soap, a plastic razor, and two pads in a plastic bag.

In the end, I take only her copy ofCanterbury Talesand the gun. Then, I retrieve a container of gas from the barn and douse the lower floor of the house. With another jug of gas, I soak the second level until it’s dripping through the floorboards.

At the front door, I light a match. I want this house and the bodies in it burnt to ash.

I move to the barn, which still has electricity, and refill the horse’s food and water. They all have access to a round hay bale, so they’re not starving, and their water has a heating unit.

Someone from South Platte will see the smoke before sundown. Animal control will be out here to gather the horses before they run out of food.

I’m almost out the door when I hear a low whine. From the corner of my eye, I see a white and gray shape crouched in the dark, far corner.

It’s Billie.

Crouching, I click my fingers. “Come here, Billie.”

At the sound of her name, she crawls out on her belly and slinks to me. I rub behind her ears, her long hair matted with ice and dirt. I know she’s starving, probably not in any fit shape to run back to Sovereign Mountain.

Rising, I find some rope and call Billie out to the yard. Rocky stands while I hoist her up and swing into the saddle behind her. Surprisingly, Billie lets me secure her with crisscrossed ropes to my torso. She probably would have held still on her own, but I don’t want to risk hurting her. She means a lot to Diane.

We head back up to Sovereign Mountain. The sun is higher, and it’s almost noon when I get back to the gatehouse. Normally, I’d goto Sovereign and let him know that the house is burning, but he’s inside with Keira, and I don’t want to disturb them.

After Rocky is dried and put away in his warm stall, I walk the plowed path to the gatehouse. Billie follows me without prompting. When we get to the door, she pushes her nose in the crack while I’m unlocking it and inhales. Her tail swishes.

“She’s inside,” I say.

Billie whines.

I unlock the door, and Billie cranes her neck around the corner, clearly hesitant. My eyes roam over the room and fall on a sight I wasn’t expecting.

Diane is out of bed. Her golden hair is braided over her shoulder. Her body is engulfed in one of my red flannels that falls to her knees. The house smells of coffee, and something crackles on the stove.

I pause. This is it—my home, right here.

“Diane,” I say.

She looks up, and Billie lets out a yelp before she propels through the door. Their bodies collide so hard, Diane lands on her ass. Billie whines and whips back and forth so hard, I fear she’s going to crack in half.

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