Page 3 of Hero's Heart

Sloane’s nails dug into her palms beneath the table, but she forced a placid smile. They were baiting her hard tonight, butshe wasn’t going to fall for it. She knew what would happen if she did, and she never won. “I’ll do my best to meet your high standards.”

Dinner dragged on, the conversation shifting to the details of Marissa’s Paris wardrobe and Clarice’s social calendar. Sloane remained silent, forcing herself to eat despite her appetite being long gone.

When the dessert plates were cleared—an exquisite chocolate mousse she hadn’t been offered—she finally excused herself. William barely glanced at her as she slipped out of the room. He was once again growling at his phone.

She climbed the narrow staircase to the attic, the sounds of the family’s laughter echoing faintly behind her. Her room, tucked away near the servants’ quarters, was a stark contrast to the grandeur below. The furniture was mismatched, the wallpaper peeling, and the single window was so small it hardly let in any light.

But it was hers. If only because her family found coming up here distasteful.

Sloane sank onto the bed, pulling her knees to her chest. She reached for the worn photo of her mother tucked inside a book on the nightstand. The edges were frayed, and the colors had faded over time, but her mother’s warm smile was as vivid as ever.

“Mom,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “I miss you so much.”

She traced her mother’s face with her thumb, memories flooding her mind. Her mother’s laughter, the way she used to braid Sloane’s hair while humming a lullaby, the scent of her favorite lavender perfume.

She had no idea how her mother had gotten into the trouble she had before she died, the trouble Sloane was still paying the price for here, but that didn’t mean she loved her mom any less.

Tears pricked her eyes, but she blinked them away. Crying wouldn’t change anything.

The storm outside picked up, rain lashing against the windowpane. Lightning flashed in the distance, illuminating the small room for a brief moment.

Sloane clutched the photo to her chest, her jaw set. Someday, she vowed, she would find a way out of this life. Someday, she would be free.

For now, she would focus on the fact that she was getting to go to Paris. Even if it was only as a glorified servant, she would take it.

Chapter 2

Callum Webb was too damned old to be breaking up fistfights over girls.

Granted, he’d gotten out of federal law enforcement and taken the job as sheriff here in the tiny town of Oak Creek, Wyoming, seven years ago because he’d wanted to have problems like this, rather than hunting murderers and terrorists.

But right now, he would take a good old-fashioned criminal mastermind—hell, he’d take adozencriminal masterminds—over two teenage brothers clobbering each other about a girl.

When the call about a physical altercation on Clifton Road had come in, Callum had known before he’d even pulled up that it had to be kids that close to the high school. He just hadn’t known why.

He’d learned quickly enough, though. Apparently, Kyle Johnson had asked Macie Roberts on a date, not knowing his big brother, Aaron, was interested in Macie too.

And it had escalated straight to shit from there.

Things came to a head when the brothers went to a house party and Aaron had found Kyle hugging Macie. After that,eyewitness statements got blurry. Looking at the blood on the grass, Callum knew the onlookers had waited to call him in until the last possible second. There was no way the boys had only thrown one punch each.

After all, nothing was more exciting on a small-town Friday night than a jealous tussle between two brothers.

Neither of the Johnson boys was among the usual teenage suspects Callum had to keep an eye on. They stayed out of trouble, attended school regularly, and, tonight notwithstanding, weren’t even on his radar.

The boys were known around town as being close, especially since they were only a year apart in age. But judging by how Callum had to wrench them apart today, you’d never have guessed it.

Callum sighed, staring down at the scowling boys sitting on the curb. “Well, what do you have to say for yourselves?”

Aaron, the eldest, huffed, looking away. “He started it.”

Kyle glared at his brother. “How the fuck was I supposed to know you were into Macie?”

“Language.” Callum’s warning was ignored.

Aaron rounded on his little brother. “If you’d listened once, it would’ve been obvious. I talk about Macie all the time.”

Kyle crossed his arms over his chest. “Talking doesn’t mean shit. You never made a move. After all this time, everyone assumed you wouldn’t. If it hadn’t been me who hit on Macie, it would’ve been someone else.”

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