Page 163 of Westin

It takes a moment to get adjusted. I’m not used to riding a horse with such long strides. Godspeed eats up distance, her body soaring cleanly over the ground, hooves tearing up grass in her wake.

We fly through the dark, our bodies just a shadow beneath the blue moon.

CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO

DIANE

I stand in the kitchen. Keira is by the stove, her arms wrapped around her body. The tea kettle whistles in a thin shriek.

“He’s killing David,” I say, my voice cracking, “isn’t he?”

She nods, her eyes big. “That doesn’t mean he’s bad. I killed your husband, but he deserved it.”

I swallow. “He did deserve it.”

The kettle gets louder until Keira reaches over and turns it off. She pours two cups, and I sink down opposite her at the table. The scent of chamomile and lemon wafts up in curls of steam. My throat is lumpy, and a heavy weight crushes my chest.

“I want them to come home safe,” I whisper.

“They will,” Keira says. “Sovereign promised.”

We’re both quiet, staring down at the table. She reaches out and takes my hand. Outside, the wind picks up, wailing like a banshee swooping over the ranch.

This isn’t how I dreamed my wedding night would be.

CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

WESTIN

Hooves skid to a halt. My boots hit the ground.

In the distance, lights glimmer.

The valley is laid out at my feet. Far to my left, I see the cliffs where Sovereign killed Clint. Down below, the road is a coal gray snake through the mountains. I sling the rifle from my back and hang Godspeed’s reins around her saddle horn.

At the edge, I set up my rifle. The sky is clear, and it’s light enough I see the truck from a mile away. I sink down onto my belly and fit my eye to the scope.

The road curves. The truck eases closer.

Sweat etches down my forehead. I blink it away. My body is soaked with sweat from riding hard.

I take a breath and release slowly. An owl screeches, and the wind picks up in the trees. Lifting my head, I assess it. Fuck, there’s more breeze than I anticipated up here. Sweat stings my eyes, and I wipe it away with my palm and look through the scope.

I have less than a minute.

The river glitters. Everything is so silent now.

This time, as I lay in wait, I don’t feel my father looking over my shoulder. I don’t see the stern line of his mouth in my mind’s eye. My head is just blank, and I’m fully honed in on my target.

Sweat slips down through my hair, and I flick it back, repositioning my eye.

Thirty seconds.

I breathe in, my finger hovering over the trigger. The truck is close enough that I can make out the windshield. Then, it hits the curve before the bridge, and I see that the side window is open.

That’s a harder shot to take, but it’s cleaner.

I blink hard. My eyes sting, but I barely feel them. The world is gone around me, nothing but the tiny space inside my scope. The truck moves closer, on the bridge now.

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