Page 39 of Drowning Her

“Only one of you will beat the others,” Forrest said, his voice booming over the speaker system. Both of us went still. “If you want to take over the family business, then you must do what needs to be done. Show me how much you want to win.”

I crept along the wall until I hit a corner. I slid down tothe ground and started grabbing at the cement. There had to be something here.

“There are weapons,” Forrest added, his voice scratchy. “Find them.”

I could picture my father smiling as he observed me on the surveillance footage. But I had never done training in the Dairy Barn with anyone in here before. It was always just me. Had the other person been through this before? Or did I have the advantage?

I inched my way on the ground, my fingers spread, until my thumb knocked into a gun. I pulled back the hammer, listening for where to aim it. I needed to find the key to get the metal mask off of my eyes. There was always a key. Where was it?

Metal dinged against one of the troughs.The key.I scrambled to get there first, knowing that there was likely only one key for us to share. A gasp drifted to me. I knew that sound, but I couldn’t place it. I reached forward, grabbing the key, then dashed back to the corner. I unlocked it, then pried the metal mask off of me.

Finally, the weight lifted, my eyes coming into focus. I pulled out the gag, letting it hang around my neck. The barn was dark. And there were two shadows in the corner. A woman and a boy.

“Wolves in sheep’s clothing are everywhere,” Forrest said. “Do not let me down.”

I couldn’t tell what he meant. Was he warning me, or was he talkingaboutme? It must have been a warningforme because I would never pretend to be something I wasn’t. My father had taught me that.Let them fear you,he had said,and you will never lose.

“Only one can live,” my father said over the speaker.

I aimed the gun at the figures, stepping closer to them.The boy still had the contraption on his eyes, his face completely covered, but the woman stared at me. She must have dropped the key trying to help the boy when I took it. She held the boy close to her side, tears streaming down her cheeks, blood vessels throbbing in her face.

I did know her.

Mom.

I dropped my arms but clutched my gun at my side. Her body trembled, her lips moving. She raised her gun at me, then closed her eyes, holding the little boy close to her chest.

“Don’t forget our arrangement,” Forrest said.

Who was he talking to?

“I got you, baby,” my mother whispered, her eyes still closed. “Close your eyes,” she told Sawyer.

But his eyes were already covered by the mask.

Was she talking to me?

I came toward them. “Mom?—”

The bullet hit me, an immense pressure filling my arm, full of dead weight. Spiked energy surging through my limbs. The unstoppable ringing. The scent of hay was strong, like a humid summer day. The dust in the air. The metal equipment. I fell back, tripping over my own feet. Stubbed my toe. Couldn’t feel it. Sawyer whimpered. My mother’s hoarse breathing. My head hit the cement.

And then it all stopped.

The hospital door creaked open. Sawyer. I didn’t understand why they were keeping me here.

“Where’s Mom?” I asked. The kid was four years old and lucky that he hadn’t seen anything—at least as far as Icould remember. But he had come to see me every day, usually with a different rancher. My father had come the first time, but had been too busy since then. I understood that. It was work. But I hadn’t seen my mother yet.

Sawyer looked away. “Don’t know,” he said.

I reached over to fluff his hair, but I winced at the pain. A scared expression streamed through his eyes.

“It’s okay,” I said. “Just sore.”

“When are you coming home?” he asked.

“Don’t know.” All I knew was that I had to stay here, at the doctor’s, until our father said I could come back.

When the day came, Forrest escorted me out with Sawyer by his side. Sawyer kept his eyes on the ground. It must have bothered him, being stuck with Forrest and me, especially without Mom. But I knew she was alive, and he did too. He was a mama’s boy, the youngest.

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