Amanda stepped out of Jake’s Jeep onto the gravel drive, the lake air cool and pine-scented against her bare legs. The house rose ahead of them—dark cedar and wide glass windows reflecting the last gold of sunset, sprawling across the slope like it owned the water. She’d seen pictures, heard Jake brag about “the family compound,” but standing in front of it felt different. Intimate. Expensive. Dangerous in a way she couldn’t name yet.
Jake was already three beers deep from the cooler in the back seat. He slung an arm around her shoulders too hard, kissed her temple sloppily, and shouted toward the house, “We’re here, losers!”
Inside, the weekend unfolded like every other visit she’d endured: loud laughter, clinking bottles, Jake holding court. By dinner he was flushed and loud, leaning a
