Chapter Thirteen - Grim
1143 Words
I had seen my father bury brothers.
I had seen him walk away from gunfights with blood running down his face.
I had watched him sit in silence after my mother died, staring out the clubhouse
window for three straight days.
But I had never seen him look at anyone the way he looked at Eve while she read
Thomas Cross's journal.
Like he was carrying twenty years of guilt on his back.
Nobody spoke.
The entire clubhouse seemed to shrink around us, every brother pretending not to
watch while watching anyway.
Eve stood by the old oak table, one hand gripping the leather journal, the other
covering her mouth. Tears rolled silently down her cheeks as she stared at the first
page.
If you're reading this, then I failed to keep my promise... and Eve is no longer safe.
She traced the words with her fingertips.
"He wrote this for me."
Mara nodded.
"He wrote every page for you."
Eve looked up.
"You've had this all this time?"
"I have."
"Why didn't you give it to me?"
Mara didn't look away.
"Because Thomas asked me not to."
The answer only seemed to make things worse.
Eve closed the journal with more force than she intended.
"So everyone made promises." Her voice cracked. "My father. Silas. You." She looked
around the room. "Did anyone ever think to ask what I wanted?"
No one answered.
Because the truth was ugly.
She'd never had a choice.
I leaned against the wall near the fireplace, arms crossed over her chest, trying to
make sense of the mess we'd all been dropped into.
The old farmhouse had burned down.
Armed men had shown up at our gates.
Someone inside Iron Crown had opened the back service entrance.
And now there was a journal that apparently held the answers to a twenty year old
secret.
I looked at Mara.
She stood perfectly still, calm as ever, but I noticed something I hadn't before.
She kept glancing towards the front windows.
Like she expected someone to come through them.
"You think they'll come back tonight?" I asked.
Her eyes met mine.
"Yes."
The certainty in her voice made the room feel colder.
"Why?"
"Because they know she's here."
I looked towards Eve.
She was carefully opening the journal again, wiping at her eyes with the sleeve of her
sweater.
Dani had moved beside her, reading over her shoulder.
"What does it say?" Dani asked quietly.
Eve swallowed.
"It's... it's about me."
Silas shifted in his chair.
"Read it."
Eve hesitated.
"I don't think I should."
The old man gave her a sad smile.
"Thomas wrote those words so you'd never have to face this alone."
She took a deep breath and began reading aloud.
"October 14th.
Eve asked me today why we never leave Ash Creek. I told her I was too old to start over
somewhere else. The truth is, I don't dare take her too far from the places I know. It's
easier to protect a child when you know every road in and out of town.
She laughed today while helping me fix old Mr. Cooper's truck. She got grease all over
her face and looked so much like her mother that it nearly broke me.
If anyone ever reads this besides my little girl, know one thing: Eve has never been the
danger. She has always been the one in danger.
And if they ever find her... God help the people who stand between them and my
daughter."
The room fell silent again.
I looked at my father.
His eyes were closed.
Cal had turned away completely.
Even the older brothers who claimed nothing ever got to them looked
uncomfortable.
Eve lowered the journal.
"He knew."
Mara nodded.
"Yes."
"He knew they were looking for me."
"Yes."
A tiny, heartbreaking smile crossed Eve's face.
"And he still let me have a normal life."
I thought she'd be angry.
I thought she'd scream.
Instead, she looked proud.
Like she finally understood why Thomas had hidden so much from her.
I had known the man for all of five minutes through stories and old letters, but
somehow I knew one thing for certain.
He had loved that girl with everything he had.
A prospect came running through the front doors before anyone could speak again.
"Grim!"
Every head turned.
The kid was breathing hard, his face pale.
"What is it?" I asked.
"We found tire tracks by the east fence line."
Hawk stood up immediately.
"How many vehicles?"
"Three... maybe four."
"They came back?" Dani whispered.
The prospect nodded.
"And there's something else."
He reached into his pocket and held out a small folded piece of paper.
"I found this caught on the fence."
I took it from him and unfolded it.
There was no signature.
No message.
Just a single photograph.
The second I looked at it, my blood ran cold.
It was Eve.
She couldn't have been more than twelve years old.
She was standing outside the old farmhouse holding a birthday cake while Thomas
laughed beside her.
The picture had been taken from a distance.
From the tree line.
Without either of them knowing.
Someone had been watching that house.
Watching her.
For years.
I looked up slowly.
"When was this taken?"
The prospect shook his head.
"I don't know."
Eve had stepped closer, her eyes fixed on the photograph in my hand.
Her face went completely white.
"I remember that day."
I looked at her.
"It was my twelfth birthday," she whispered.
The room fell into a stunned silence.
Dani moved to her side.
"Eve..."
She never looked away from the picture.
"My dad made that cake himself." A tiny laugh escaped her. "It tasted terrible."
Nobody laughed with her.
Because all I could think about was the person behind the camera.
A stranger standing in the woods.
Watching a little girl celebrate her birthday.
Waiting.
Mara stepped forward and took the photograph from my hand.
The moment she saw it, her calm expression disappeared.
For the first time since she'd arrived, she looked afraid.
"What is it?" I demanded.
She turned the photograph over.
On the back, written in faded black ink, were five words.
She has her father's eyes.
A heavy silence settled over the room.
I looked at Eve.
Then at my father.
Then back at the picture.
A question I'd been trying not to ask finally forced its way into my mind.
I looked straight at Silas Mercer.
And I asked the one thing no one else seemed brave enough to say.
"Who exactly was her father?"
Silas didn't answer.
He just stared at the words on the back of the photograph.
Then, very slowly, he looked at me.
The grief in his eyes told me the answer before he ever opened his mouth.
"He was one of us."
- Writer
