Page 86 of Theirs to Rule

“You sure you want to do this alone?” she asked.

“I’m sure.”

Her eyes searched mine. “Have you told Camille the truth yet?”

I tensed, the mention of Camille hitting like a sucker punch. Rosa was the only one who knew about her—the one person I’d trusted with even the smallest details. I didn’t answer her question.

“I should go,” I said instead, brushing past her toward the gate.

“Ty!” she called, stopping me in my tracks.

I turned.

“When you’re ready, I’ll be here.” Her voice was steady, her smile genuine. Then she climbed back into her truck and drove away.

I watched her leave before turning back to the gates. The weight on my chest got heavier. There was no going back now. Whatever answers were waiting inside, I’d face them alone.

I shoved the gates open, the rusted hinges groaning like they hadn't been touched in years. The path to the house stretched out in front of me, cracked and overrun with weeds.

The garden hit me like a punch in the gut. It used to be my mom’s pride—pristine, bursting with flowers arranged just so. Now it was a wild mess. The shrubs and flowers were out of control, beautiful in a way that felt wrong, like the chaos was mocking the care she’d once poured into this place. I stopped for a second, memories rushing at me.

I used to help her out here when I was a kid, digging into the dirt with tiny hands, convinced I was some kind of gardening prodigy. She’d laugh, always patient, even when I planted things all wrong. That laugh—it was like sunshine, bright enough to make you forget every shitty thing in the world.

I pushed those thoughts down as I made my way to the front door. Every step was a reminder of what I'd lost, what had been ripped away. It hurt, yeah, but there were flashes of something else—moments of happiness that cut just as deep because they were gone.

Inside, the air was stale, like the house had been holding its breath all this time. I headed straight for my dad’s study, a place that always felt like it had a big “Keep Out” sign over the door. The desk was still there, dark wood that screamed authority. It was piled with papers and files. I went through them, my frustration building with every meaningless page. Shady business deals, sure—but that was nothing new. My dad had always played in the gray. But secrets? The kind I was looking for? Nothing.

By the time I was done, my patience was hanging by a thread. There was only one place left: his safe. It was tucked behind a painting in the master bedroom. I’d always known it was there, but this was the first time I’d had the nerve to crack it open.

CU hadn’t been a total waste—I’d learned some useful skills. In less than three minutes, the safe clicked open. I rifled through the contents, snapping pictures of anything that looked evenremotely important. Most of it was junk. But then I found it—a sheet of paper covered in symbols.

My heart stopped. It was the same symbols I’d seen in the photo of the banner in Silas’s dad’s house, but some of them were circled.

I stared at it, my knees giving out as I sank to the floor. My head spun with anger, confusion, and a sick kind of clarity. My family wasn’t squeaky clean—I’d known that forever. Thieves, liars, money launderers—that was their world, the world I was born into. But murder?

I wanted to tell myself it wasn’t true. Just because Silas was a killer didn’t mean every member of the cause my parents had been a part of was. But deep down, I knew I was kidding myself.

When I finally got it together, I took a picture of the paper and tucked it into my jacket. I glanced around the bedroom, once my parents’ sanctuary. Now, it felt cold and hollow, the warmth replaced with shadows I couldn’t shake.

Needing a break, I wandered into my sister’s old room. It was like stepping back in time—band posters on the walls, photos of us smiling on some vacation I barely remembered. I collapsed onto her bed, letting the memories wash over me.

For a second, I thought about staying here. Just disappearing into the mess my family left behind. But I couldn’t. Whatever my parents had been tangled up in had ties to CU, and those symbols were the key to something way bigger than I’d imagined. Running wasn’t an option. This was my legacy now, as fucked up as it was—a puzzle of blood and lies I had to figure out.

As I lay there, exhaustion finally catching up with me, my thoughts drifted to Camille. She deserved so much better than the mess I’d made, but I couldn’t stop thinking about her—the way she’d smiled, the way she made me feel like I wasn’t completely broken. I wondered if she’d ever forgive me for shutting her out, for choosing this toxic legacy over her.

Eventually, sleep claimed me. My dreams were a mix of symbols and shadows, secrets pulling me deeper into a mystery I wasn’t sure I could survive. But somewhere in all that chaos, there was hope. A flicker of it. Enough to make me think I might still find a way to fix this. To fix myself.

To fix us.

Chapter 39

Camille

Dante, Kage, and I walked into the coffee shop where I’d arranged to meet Bianca. It was a cute little place two towns away from Crimsonvale.

Kage seemed on edge, like he was expecting something to happen at any moment. He glanced around as soon as we stepped inside, scoping the place out. Dante’s hand rested on the small of my back protectively as Bianca lifted her hand to wave us over.

Kage and I sat down, while Dante went to order us some drinks.

---