Page 51 of Drowning Her

Before he could pull the trigger, I charged forward, forcing the gun from his grip. A bullet hit the roof. I rammed my fist into his face, barreling into his nose and eye sockets. He threw me off, but I grabbed his shoulders, shoving him to the ground, letting my fists fly into him, seeing red.

“Yes!” Forrest shouted, each clap of his hands thundering through the barn. Ringing vibrated in my ears. “This is good.Be brothers.It’s our family’s way.” Punch after punch. His nose was bloody and my hands were numb. Sawyer spit blood in my face, then kicked me off. Forrest’s laughter grew. “Finish him!”

Sawyer’s fist landed on my eye, pain swirling inside of me. I ignored it, evading his next attack, then glided pasthim and pulled him into a headlock. He swung a fist back, punching my stomach, but I held his neck, choking him. He tapped my arm. I straightened, readying my stance, meeting my brother’s eyes. He threw a hook into my side; I let it land, then used that moment to hammer into him. A punch landed on my cheek. Blood filled my mouth as Maisie blinked up at me, her eyes wide and for once,scared.But not for herself, but for me. In my distraction, Sawyer knocked me to the ground, then kneeled on my chest.

“You need to face your fucking problems,” he said. “Figure it out. You’ve got to see it through.”

I tried to read past his shield. Did he mean I needed to kill Maisie? Or was he saying that I needed to killhiminstead, to get the Trial over with? Sawyer’s eyes flicked over to Forrest, and our father nodded with glee.

Was I his last kill in the Trial too?

I kept my voice low so that only Sawyer would hear: “Who is your last kill?”

Sawyer laughed, the sound hearty and raw. It wasn’t me, then. He would have attacked me before this. Would have shot me in the head right now. But he hadn’t. No—it was Maisie. Like I suspected. Because my father knew I wouldn’t do it. Because as long as Maisie was dead, there would be one less loose end to worry about. By killing Maisie, Sawyer could show our father that his loyalty to the farm came before his loyalty to me. His ultimate challenge proving that our family’s business was the only thing that mattered to him.

The farm could erode under the sea for all I cared.

And yet, I couldn’t kill my brother. Not yet.

I shoved him off of me, and we both got up, glaring at each other, huffing. Locking eyes with him, I threw myweapons on the ground, and Sawyer did the same. We both turned to our father. Forrest’s jaw hung low.

“You could both end this right now if you wanted. You know that,” he said. He motioned to Sawyer. “Go on,” he instructed. “Hurry now.”

Sawyer glanced at me, then grabbed his weapons and left. Forrest and I walked to the edge of the barn, but at the entrance, I stopped, waiting for Forrest to leave. He glimpsed over my shoulder at my wife, still kneeling on the ground, completely bound. I stood in front of him, blocking his view.

“She’s making you weak, son,” he said. He narrowed his eyes. “This isn’t who I raised you to be.”

I clenched my jaw, but my face showed no expression.Thatwas what he had taught me. To let nothing slip by.

And still, he saw through it.

“You know what happened when I made that mistake,” Forrest said.

I remembered that day. The rancid scent of the pond water. The ache in my arm. The blue engravings in my father’s gun. The day my father gave me the choice to kill my mother.

But this time, I knew I had a choice. I would protect Maisie, even if I died in the process.

I gestured toward the main house. “You have a business to run,” I said. “And a better son to lead.”

Forrest shook his head, the disappointment weighing on his shoulders. “How did Sawyer become more ruthless than you?”

I slid the door to the barn close behind him. Turning toward the pen, I wrapped my fingers into fists. I could kill almost anyone. I could take a life without question.

Except for two people. I couldn’t explain it.

I grabbed my knife and cut the ropes from Maisie’s wrists and ankles and pulled the gag from her mouth. She rubbed the indentations, her wrists red and raw. A cough raked through her body. I found a water bottle, shoving it in her direction.

“The hell was that?” she asked.

“Family,” I said.

“Family?” She forced a laugh. “That’s not family. That’s attempted murder. In like, three directions.”

But that was normal in my family. She knew that.

Her lips pressed into a thin line. “I need to know something,” she said, stubbornness flaring in her eyes. “I need to know that you’re here. Withme,Wilder.”

“You knew from the beginning that we were fucked up.”

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