Page 73 of Man of Honor

“The bayou.”

Nothing good ever happened in the bayou; I’d known that all my life.

“You don’t think…” I lifted my head, forcing myself to meet Gideon’s gaze. “You don’t think Dominic?—”

“Would interfere?” he asked gravely, and for the first time tonight, his calm façade cracked. It was the same expression he always wore when Dominic was around these days. “If you’re asking me if it’s possible? Yeah. Dom’s capable of more than you know. But if you’re asking if he’d hurt Wyatt because of you…I can’t answer that.”

A heavy silence followed, broken only by the steady tick of rain and the chime of the grandfather clock in the hallway. The cheery lamplight and buttery yellow walls should have been comforting, but all I saw were shadows stretching from the corners, dark reminders of all the ways the world could destroy a man.

All I knew was that Wyatt wasn’t home. He wasn’t safe. He and Dominic had always hated each other, and they’d left Eden around the same time.

“Fuck this.” I grabbed my phone and jabbed at the screen with shaking fingers. After three rings, the call went straight toDominic’s voicemail. Then the next…and the next. I clenched my teeth and dialed Marcel. It connected on the first ring.

“Landry,” Marcel answered, clipped and impersonal, but sounding angrier than I’d ever heard. The reception was shit, tinny and distant, with static cutting in and out like a bad radio signal. Just like it had with Wyatt.

“Landry,” Marcel said, clipped and impersonal, his voice edged with an unfamiliar anger. The line crackled faintly, static cutting in and out like a bad radio signal. Just like it had with Wyatt.

My mouth went dry. “Where the hell are you? And don’t give me any bullshit. I know you’re with Dominic.”

“I’m always with Dominic,” Marcel replied, and for the first time since high school, he didn’t sound happy about it. “What’s this about, Gage?”

“I’m looking for Wyatt,” I said, barely holding back my anger. “I know you’re out in the bayou, Marcel. Dominic didn’t drag you out there for a fucking fishing trip. Where is he? What’s he doing?”

He hesitated, and alarms started blaring in my head. He’d always been my brother’s cheerful, impulsive shadow—a cross between bodyguard and conscience, but one thing he never did was second guess Dominic. When he finally spoke, his tone was guarded. “You’re jumping to conclusions.”

“Am I?” My voice rose, and I started pacing again, eating up the tile floor on each turn. “Wyatt’s not home, and y’all left Eden around the same time. Dom’s not answering his phone, but you and Wyatt both sound up to your knees in swamp. So, tell me, what conclusion should I make, Marcel? Because right now, I’mthinking Dom dragged Wyatt out there to settle some fucked-up score, and if that’s true?—”

“Whoa, slow down,” Marcel interrupted. I could almost picture him pinching the bridge of his nose, the way he did whenever he thought someone was acting crazy. “Look, Gage. You don’t got all the facts. You don’t know what he’s dealing with.”

“I don’t care!” I bit out furiously. “If he lays a hand on Wyatt, he’s gonna regret it.”

Static flared, followed by a long silence. Just as I thought the call had dropped, Marcel’s heavy sigh crackled down the line. “He was hoping it would never get back to you. Just make the problem disappear, comprené? But it’s gone too far. This isn’t what he needs.”

“Tell me where they are,” I demanded.

Another pause. When he finally spoke, it was with heavy reluctance. “An old cabin in the bayou, a jon boat ride south of the Devil’s Hand. You know the one.”

It was like someone had ripped my worst nightmare directly from my brain. My blood ran cold. “You don’t have to do this,” I whispered hoarsely. “You can still stop him.”

Marcel’s tone hardened. “That’s not my call to make. I’ve already done what I can. The rest is up to you.”

The line went dead.

The phone slipped from my fingers and hit the counter, spinning once before it settled. I stared at it blankly, frozen in shock. “Why there?” I rasped. “Why thehellwould he take him there?”

The place where my life had nearly ended so many times. The place where Wyatt might lose his now.

A hand gripped my shoulder, and I flinched. Turning, I locked eyes with Gideon.

“You’re not going alone.” His face was set in the kind of hard, implacable lines that didn’t invite argument.

“I don’t need you holding my hand,” I shot back reflexively, but even as the words hit the air, I hated them. Felt ashamed of them. This was exactly what Wyatt had been trying to get through to me.

You’ve got people who care about you. People who’d do anything for you.

I couldn’t keep carrying everything alone. It was killing me.

Gideon didn’t blink, calm and rooted in the chaos. “You’re not going alone,” he repeated, slower this time. “Dominic’s not someone you can talk down when he’s like this. If you go in there playing hero, he’ll double down out of spite and end up hurting you and himself.”

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