Page 63 of Meet Your Maker: Part One

Beside me, Ben goes still, his whole body coiled like a spring. “Louisiana.”

Tomas dips his chin once, confirmation settling like a stone.

“So, let me get this straight… if Texas marries, what’s her name—Sylvie?”

Tomas’ tone is grim. “DuFour. Queen of the Louisiana Territories.”

I try to wrap my mind around it, the implications coming in a sickening rush. “Okay, so if Texas marries Louisiana… that means the scumbag who enslaved Shadow could have authority over all of us?”

Tomas nods, his face etched with tension. “That’s exactly what it means.”

My stomach churns. Tomas scratches at his stubble, his eyes distant, like he’s weighing his next words.

“And it makes the email I got this morning even more disturbing.” He hesitates, just for a beat. “Louisiana has requested our presence in New Orleans within seventy-two hours.”

I grip my beer bottle, knuckles whitening around the cold glass. “Who is us?”

His gaze holds mine, steady and unflinching. “Right now, it’s just the five of us.”

“Not the girls? Or Daddy?” My voice shakes, the fear slipping through the cracks.

“Not yet.”

The tension hangs there, denser than the warm spring air, as we sit in silence, the reality of what’s coming settling over us.Daddy stands and crosses the porch, like sitting still is no longer an option—and he knows it.

I catch a shadow flickering beneath his usually easy expression.

It’s like the weight of all those years spent keeping us clear of supernatural politics has finally caught up with him. His children, his brother—everyone he’s protected for so long are suddenly in the crosshairs, and there’s no simple way through.

The green bottle tilts slightly in his grip as he stares out over the fields of Stony Patch, the lines in his face deepening like he’s runnin’ the numbers.Maybe he is. His jaw tightens just a fraction before he lets out a slow, resigned breath.

A sharp, gut-twisting wave of guilt rolls through me. Without thinking, I reach out with my gift, letting it brush across Daddy’s emotions—he’s an anchor, a steady, but with that ache of resignation running deep beneath. He stills, and his gaze sharpens, letting me know he felt my gentle probe.

“Sunshine,” he murmurs, his voice a quiet reminder. It’s not a reprimand, but a nudge that even now, he can bear his own weight.

“Oh, Daddy,” I whisper, my voice barely holding steady. “If it weren’t for me, if I hadn’t—”

He cuts me off with a firm shake of his head, his eyes hardening. “Don’t you go thinkin’ that for a second.” His hand covers mine, solid and warm. “We’re in this because of them, not because of anything you did. And I knew we couldn’t hide forever.”

Ben reaches for me, and I exhale as his arms encircle me. He’s steady and grounding, his certainty pulsing through our bond, calming the turbulence in my chest.

Through Ben, I feel Tomas—cool stone warmed by sunlight, his strength bracing me. Shadow’s presence presses at the edgesof my mind, teasing yet edged, like the playful flick of claws that sometimes leave a mark.

Finally, stretched taut by the tyrannical sun, is my link to Gray—faint, like he’s just brushing the edge of waking.

They’re all with me, lending just enough strength to keep me from sinking beneath the rising tide of bad news.

Daddy straightens, glancing at his watch and sighing. “Alright,” he says, slipping back into that calm determination that’s as much armor as anything else. “I’ve got to top off the tank and get back to pick up Sue, Cady, and the kids. We’ll head out to Colt’s place so we can be ready when they come through.”

He glances at the sun, already starting to dip. “Portal’s due to open just after dark, and I don’t want to cut it close. If we miss Colton steppin’ through, the girls will never forgive me.”

He turns to Tomas. “Judge is all fueled up in the barn. Best let Sunday drive—quickest way for her to exorcise all her demons.”

Tomas nods, already calculating our next steps, though he shoots me a faint smile. “We’ll head back to the townhouse, pick up Gray and X. Then we’ll meet you at the farm.”

Daddy takes a final swig of his beer and sets the bottle down on the porch railing. There’s a heaviness in his eyes he doesn’t bother to hide. He rests a hand on my shoulder, his voice steady, resolved.

“Let’s welcome your brother back,” he says. “Then we’ll talk about what’s comin’ next.”

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