by Kyla Stone
“I know that.”
“You’re no good for her. You don’t deserve her.”
“I know that, too,” Logan said quietly.
He wasn’t worthy of her. That was a cold, hard fact.
But she’d seen something in him. Something he had a hard time seeing in himself. Instead of despising him like he deserved, she’d called him to be someone better than he was.
And he would be. Not just for her—but for himself.
Because if Dakota saw goodness in him, it must exist.
But the shame and the anxiety twisting his gut said otherwise. It didn’t matter how hard he tried to push out the words—the old man was getting under his skin.
By the triumphant flash in his eyes, Ezra knew it.
“I’ll do my best by her for as long as she’ll have me,” Logan said haltingly, feeling like an idiot and hating it.
Ezra glared at him, staring with distaste at the tattoos sleeving his bare arms. “Losers like you don’t change.”
“I will.” But the words sounded hollow in his own ears.
“There’s darkness in you. Violence. You’re the kind of man who destroys everything he touches. I heard what you did. You murdered that refugee woman, nearly killed that mother and her little girl.”
Logan went rigid. He wondered who had told Ezra—was it Julio or Park? Did they judge him as mercilessly as Ezra did, as mercilessly as he’d judged himself?
Logan’s throat thickened. He didn’t speak. He wasn’t sure if he could.
Ezra tossed the spade he was using to remove the grassy topsoil aside and wobbled to his knees. Carefully, he reached in and placed the cartridge contraption into the bottom of the hole, set it, then rose heavily to his feet.
He brushed the dirt from his pant legs, wincing as he straightened. He moved slowly, stiffly, like his joints were aching, his splinted left hand cradled close to his body.
He examined the injury for a moment, his jaw clenched like he despised the sight of his own weakness. He turned away from Logan and stared off toward the swamp. A white ibis flew low over the water, its white reflection mirrored almost perfectly.
“You should leave,” Ezra said. “You can take whatever you want. I have an extra backpack. Fill it with as many supplies as you can carry. Take one of the rifles. Find yourself a life somewhere far away from here.”
Logan stood, too. He stared at the old man’s stooped back for what felt like an eternity. “Are you…bribing me?”
“I’m giving you an out. If you truly care about her like you say, then leave before you break her heart—which you will. It’s in your nature.”
Logan didn’t say anything. What could he say in his own defense? Absolutely nothing.
“You know her past, don’t you? What she’s been through. What they did to her. If she deserves anything in this world, it’s a little bit of happiness.” Ezra popped his knuckles one by one. “And you sure as hell aren’t the one to give it to her.”
Logan stood there, swaying and dizzy from the heat, from the tumult of emotions roiling through him—remorse, shame, and hot, bitter anger at himself.
As much as he desperately wanted to believe he could be different, that he could somehow erase his past, be good enough, deserve a life and a good woman who loved him—in the deepest, darkest part of himself, he feared every word Ezra spoke was true.
50
Dakota
“Thanks for having us,” Dakota said to Haasi.
Dakota and Logan stood on Haasi’s front porch, waiting for the rest of the Collier brothers to arrive. Zane was out patrolling US 41. Tessa and Eden were feeding the rabbits while Peter and Park helped Maki finish preparing dinner.
They’d been here in the Glades for six days. Nearly a week. It almost felt like it used to, like home.
Except for the looming threat of Maddox and the Shepherds.
Dakota checked her radio one more time. Leaving the compound was a risk, but they needed allies, regardless of what Ezra thought. She hoped it would be worth it.
Julio and Ezra were on watch back at the cabin. Julio would message them the second anything went wrong. They’d brought the F-150 so they could get back fast if they needed to.
“The kids missed Eden,” Haasi said. “They love having her back. Eden seems to love it, too.”
Dakota swallowed a lump in her throat. Haasi was right. Eden was blossoming here. How Dakota wished this was simply a social visit, an evening of companionship with friends. Maybe that future was possible, but not right now.
Right now, they were just trying to figure out how to survive the next few days.
Dakota shifted and shielded her eyes with her hand as she looked out over the wild, weed-infested yard to the road. She heard the sound of the engines before she saw them.
Several motorcycles roared up the gravel driveway. Dakota counted six—and several carried two people. She recognized Archer’s massive form as he hopped off and helped the smaller person clinging to him—a little girl.
Behind him, a woman climbed off her Yamaha, took off her helmet, and shook out her short brunette hair. She smiled and waved at Dakota.
Several kids ranging from around seven to twelve took off while Jake hollered at them to not get dirty. Boyd strode up the porch steps, holding hands with a short Asian woman with a pleasant, friendly face and a belly swollen with pregnancy.
“Meet the Colliers,” Haasi murmured.
“There’s…so many of them.”
Haasi chuckled. “You have no idea. This isn’t even all of them. A couple of the older kids stayed back at the homestead, and Zane’s wife and four rambunctious boys aren’t here.”
The adults jogged up to the house, already sweating. Archer offered Haasi a grocery bag and winked. “We brought extra fried sweet potatoes, as promised.”
She rolled her eyes as she bent to pick up the crossbow leaning against the doorframe and bring it inside. “Come on in—but you better wipe those dirty boots on the mat first.”
Logan and Dakota went inside, followed by a half-dozen kids, the dog Nokosi, and the shaggy spotted goat, Dot, which Maki quickly shooed out the door. The kids were covered in dirt, all boisterous noise and gleeful smiles, including Eden.
After everyone had cleaned up, they crowded around a long wooden table that took up almost the entire length of the kitchen. An assortment of metal folding chairs, stools, and benches provided seating.
“Sit, sit. You are our guests,” Maki said stiffly when Dakota stood to help.
The brothers, though, insisted on helping. Boyd and Jake helped serve the food to the kids, while Archer poured everyone lemonade. In Archer’s massive paws, the mugs looked like toys.
Everyone dug into the delicious home-cooked meal of fried alligator gar featuring sides of crookneck squash, swamp cabbage, and roasted potatoes spiced with the dog fennel herbs the kids had harvested that afternoon.
Logan took a plate and stood by the screen door, his AR-15 slung conspicuously over his shoulder. Dakota shot him a look—do you need help?—but he waved her off.
He wanted to keep watch. It was her job to do the convincing.
Haasi introduced everyone, but Dakota couldn’t hope to remember all the names and faces. The kids all had wildly unruly chestnut-brown hair like their fathers. They were giggly and restless, but good-natured. Archer and Boyd’s wives—Olivia and Tamayo—were kind and friendly, peppering them with questions about themselves and what they’d endured in Miami.
They seemed like good people, which made Dakota’s reason for coming even more distasteful. She didn’t resent them for their happiness. They deserved to be happy. They deserved to be safe.
After they’d cleaned up the table, the kids hurried outside to fish from the dock in the backyard before it got dark. Eden went with them, the big dog, Nokosi, pressed against her legs, one hand buried in the scruff of its neck, the other avidly signing something to Tessa, who had her arm wrapped around Eden’s waist.
Anxiet
y tugged at Dakota as Eden disappeared out the door, but she pushed it away. She had her whistle and the walkie talkie in case of emergency. And Nokosi was right by her side, protecting her. She was surrounded by allies.
After a few minutes of small talk about the state of Maki’s beehives, the reproductive habits of Archer and Olivia’s rabbit warren, and praise for Zander’s latest batch of moonshine, things turned serious.
Haasi leaned back in her seat and folded her arms over her bosom. “You came here for a reason. Time to spit it out.”
Dakota inhaled a sharp breath. “We’re here to ask for…for help.” The words were bitter on her tongue. She hated asking for help almost as much as Ezra did. Almost. But she was here, not him, and she was willing to beg if that’s what it came down to. “Help defending ourselves from the Shepherds.”
“How do you know they’re still coming?” Olivia asked. “It’s been days. You beat them. Maybe they gave up.”
“They didn’t give up,” Dakota said. “Maddox plays games. His brother, Jacob, did the same thing. Maddox hated him for it, but he does it, too. It’s psychological torture—the waiting, the unknown. He’s wearing us down.”
“For how long?” Zander asked.
Logan snorted.
“That’s the question, isn’t it?” Park’s face was pale. Dark circles rimmed his eyes. He looked sick with worry.
Dakota felt it, too. With each passing hour, they all felt the tension strung tighter and tighter. Their sleep was restless and pocked with nightmares. The stress of waiting was exhausting. And that’s exactly why Maddox did it.
“Maybe it’ll be tomorrow, maybe in a week,” she said. “But make no mistake—they will come.”
51
Dakota
The table fell silent for several long, protracted moments. Everyone stared at each other, worry and tension in their faces.
“Ezra might be an ornery old fool,” Archer said grimly, “but an attack on one of us is an attack on all of us. I think we should help them.”
“No way,” Jake said.
Zander shrugged. “He’s lived here for almost thirty years. Doesn’t that make him one of us?”
“Ezra made it clear he wants no part of this community,” Boyd said. “Fine, we’ve left him to his own devices. Now suddenly you want us to put our lives and families on the line for him? Where was he when Ford was killed? Nowhere. He didn’t bother to lift a finger.”
“He’s liable to shoot us if we even step on his property,” Zander said.
“He wouldn’t shoot you,” Park said.
Logan snorted again.
Boyd curled his lip. “How would you know? You’ve only been here a few days. You don’t know the man like we do.”
Dakota used to, but she wasn’t sure anymore.
“Those paramilitary religious freaks think they’re such a big deal,” Zander shook his head. “We could take them, just like we took care of the looters and thieves. We’ve been handling our business here for three generations, long before they ever set up shop.”
“I’m sorry, but no,” Jake said adamantly. “The Shepherds have never bothered us before. I’m sorry they messed with Ezra, but that’s your business. Those guys are crazy. They’ve got more guns per person than you’ve got fingers and toes, man.” He glanced at his wife. “I’m not getting my family killed over whatever spat’s between y’all. This isn’t our fight.”
“You know the things that go on in that compound,” Haasi said, her voice quiet but firm. “We’ve all heard the rumors.”
Dakota’s cheeks reddened, her scars itching. Embarrassment roiled in her gut.
She glanced up to see Maki studying her. The woman leaned against the counter in front of the sink, her strong arms crossed over her chest, a line between her thick black brows. When Dakota caught her gaze, the woman gave her a slight nod.
“We’ve heard those rumors for twenty years!” Boyd said. “You didn’t feel compelled to do anything then. Suddenly everything’s changed? Now? When we most need to defend ourselves from all the desperate refugees flooding in from Miami?”
“We helped you.” Park leaned forward in his seat, his dark eyes flashing. “Logan and Dakota helped you drive off those looters. I heard how it went sideways. They were there to defend you.”
The Colliers exchanged heavy glances. Olivia put her hand on her husband’s arm. He wrapped his huge arm around her slight shoulders.
“They did save your lives,” Olivia said, glancing between Boyd and Jake across the table.
“Logan joined you on patrols,” Park said, the frustration clear in his voice. “We all helped cut down those trees to block the road.”
Logan said nothing. He stared out at the front yard, his back rigid.
“And we appreciate it!” Jake said. “But that’s not the same as asking us to fight a small army. This is different. This is a huge ask.”
“I know,” Dakota said, almost choking on the words. It had been stupid to come. A mistake.
“I’m so sorry,” said Boyd’s pregnant wife, Tamayo. “I really am.”
Park slumped back in his seat with a defeated sigh.
Boyd glanced at Haasi, and his sharp gaze softened. “Look, I know you care about Ezra. He used to be a decent guy before he went all crazy hermit on us. But I have a family. We all have families. Things are about to get real for all of us. They already have.”
“I’m not losing another brother,” Jake said fiercely as he looked around the table. “I won’t.”
“You know we’re right, Archer,” Boyd said. “I’m sorry, but this is the way it has to be.”
“You’re exactly right.” Logan turned from the screen door, glowering at them all. Everyone stared at him in surprise. “You have your own needs to tend to. We’ll tend to ours.”
Logan banged the screen door open and stalked out of the house.
52
Dakota
Dakota pushed back her seat and hurried after Logan. By the time she reached the porch, he was already past their truck and striding down the driveway, the stiffness of his back and the set of his shoulders telegraphing his foul mood.
He didn’t want company. She knew how he felt. She and Logan were cut from the same cloth—the type of people who valued their independence and solitude.
Much as she wanted to go to him, she remained on the porch. She’d talk to him later, when he was ready.
She didn’t want to go back inside. Not yet. She needed air. Her chest was too tight. She hated asking for help, hated begging anyone else to put themselves on the line for her.
But this time, she was afraid they were in over their heads.
The screen door opened and closed behind her. The scent of lemon and honey wafted in the still, muggy air. Haasi moved to stand next to her.
She pressed a small glass jar into Dakota’s hands. “Here’s some more poultice to take with you for Ezra’s hand. If you need more, just let me know.”
“Thank you,” Dakota forced out, her throat thick. “Ezra thanks you, too.”
Haasi laughed—a deep, hearty chuckle. “Somehow, I doubt it.”
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Haasi swatted away a swarm of tiny bugs. “That’s not how I wanted things to go.”
Dakota heaved a sigh. “I know.”
“I’ll keep trying, but I can’t promise anything.”
“Boyd and Jake are right. It’s not your fight. But they’re still coming.”
Dakota turned from the road and stared out over the marshland. In the distance, a great blue heron took flight and winged gracefully across a sky burnished gold by the setting sun. It was so beautiful it made her heart hurt.
Her gut tightened. For a moment, she’d allowed herself to hope they could be a part of something greater than themselves. But when it came down to it, you could only depend on yourself.
No. That wasn’t true. Not anymore. She could count the number of people she trusted on one hand, but that was more t
han she’d ever had before. Eden and Ezra. Julio, whose steady, reliable nature she’d come to depend on more and more.
And Logan.
She pressed her lips together, remembering the feel of his mouth on hers, his hands tangled in her hair, her whole body tingling. When he’d embraced her yesterday, they’d fit together like two lost puzzle pieces.
It was strange. She should be terrified to let her guard down, to let him in. Dakota Sloane, the tough-as-nails foster kid, falling for an ex-convict murderer. It was a match made in hell. But maybe it took seeing hell to long for something better.
Her whole life, she’d kept her heart closed like a fist. She’d had to, in order to survive. But maybe survival was something different than she’d first thought. Maybe to truly live, you had to open that fist and let things in—even if it hurt. Especially if it hurt.
Peering into the gathering gloom, she glanced toward the road again. Logan stood at the end of the weed-choked drive, his hands shoved in his pockets, anxiously kicking rocks into the brush hugging the shoulder of the road.
“He’s waitin’ for you,” Haasi said.
Dakota’s cheeks went hot.
“He sure looks tough, but he’s a good one.” Haasi winked. “Trust me. I can sense these things.”
“Yeah,” Dakota said, blushing furiously. It felt weird to talk like this, but also good and strangely comforting. The faintest smile tugged at her lips. “I think so, too.”
Logan glanced back at her for a moment, hesitated, then waved.
Despite everything—the fear, the anxiety, the dread building inside her chest like an immense pressure—her heart still lifted.
The future was a giant question mark. Violence and death stalked her every move.
But she wasn’t alone.
53