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Chapter One
CALLISTA
Stay away from the Barkers.
Staring up at the vast wilderness spread across towering Barker Mountain above me, those haunting words of warning echo in my head the same way they have since I was a child.
They always came with a deep sense of foreboding. Though, at that age, I didn’t comprehend the true reason why Dad was so insistent. It became a part of the way I thought, anyway, and morphed how I acted whenever one of the Barkers would cross my path in Helena.
Move to the other side of the street.
Avoid eye contact.
Let Dad handle anything that needs to be said to them.
That was sage advice then and something I should be heeding now.
If I had a choice.
Now, I understand what I could never fully comprehend as a child—that “dangerous” isn’t a strong enough descriptor for the Barkers.
Hence, my entire body trembling.
My heart beating out of my chest.
Blood rushing in my ears.
Fear threatening to choke me before I even make it up the mountain.
Any sane person would feel the same in my position, turn the car around, and race right back home. Because all the warnings I received in my youth were sugarcoated and glossed over with one of Dad’s forced smiles, hiding the true nature of the family who needed to be avoided. And the passing years have only strengthened their stranglehold on Montana and ensured no one would rise against them.
As one of the founding families of the state, their deep embedment in politics and the running of almost every major business in Montana means they can wield their power ruthlessly, without anyone questioning why their rivals disappear. And their “fuck you” amounts of money and resources only continue to grow exponentially.
They’re willing to do anything to keep that control, to harness that power, to protect what’s theirs.
And everyone knows who is responsible for pulling all the strings—and triggers—Weston Barker.
More commonly known as The Beast of Barker Mountain…
The reclusive head of the Barker family hasn’t left the peak that bears his family name since I’ve been alive—except to “allegedly” unalive anyone who crosses them—nor has anyone even seen him in the last thirty years.
But he doesn’t need to be seen to be heard.
His reputation definitely precedes him…
Ghastly violence.
Utter brutality.
Unquenchable ruthlessness.
Unrelenting focus and fury.
All these add up to bad fucking news…yet I’m about to enter his domain in nothing more than a cocktail dress and pair of stilettos.
A shiver rolls through me that has nothing to do with the chillier air up at this elevation and everything to do with what and who awaits me on the top of the cursed mountain.
Goosebumps break out across my skin even though I’m securely locked in my car with the heat blasting.
