Grayson pulled his truck back up to the gravel drive of Betty’s cabin. He hadn't intended to move this fast, but the encounter with the rogues had left a restless. He needed a different kind of distraction, one that didn't involve the threat of violence or the scent of treason.
He didn’t knock. He never did. But as his hand turned the heavy iron latch, he stopped.
Muffled voices drifted from the living room. Or rather, one voice, sharp, trembling, and laced with a desperate kind of fury he hadn’t heard from Betty before.
"I told you to stay away from me," she was saying. The words were clipped, forced through grit teeth. "Stop calling. Stop looking for ways into my life. It’s over."
Grayson stepped into the entryway, his boots silent on the rug. He saw her through the archway, pacing a
