Page 100 of Branded Betrayal

He got them involved with a criminal, took advantage of them.

Anything for a price. I mean, he fucking sold out his own son for money.

He’s as much to blame as everyone else.

The pieces of the puzzle I refused to acknowledge back at Red Rock fall together. Nash and I moved in with Aunt Marg after the explosion. I never asked why we didn’t build something new, but if our ranch was in trouble, forcing my parents to work with that criminal group, there probably wouldn’t have been enough insurance left over after all the debts were paid off.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” I cry out. “Why didn’t you tell me our ranch was in trouble and that we needed money?”

I’ve never felt more alone than I do in this second. It makes me think I really don’t have anyone, that leaving for Denver might have been the best move for me. Now more than ever, I believe staying here in Whiskey Creek was the worst decision I could have made.

And six years later, I signed on to protect our family legacy, but a legacy of what? Of smuggling, death, and illegal activity? For all I know, Aunt Marg was working with that group too. If anyone tells me different, I won’t believe them because they’re all a bunch of dirty liars.

“How could you do this to me?” I scream, slamming my hands against the wheel, my vision so blurred that I almost miss the possum that scurries across the road. It stops right in the middle of the pavement, staring back at me, and I yelp, swerving out of its way. My car off-roads into the thick grasses, bouncing over the rough ground until I skid to a stop.

I can’t sit here forever. But I sure as hell can’t go home. If I see Nash or Blaze . . .

I grit my teeth and steer my car back onto the road.

Fuck them for leaving me in the dark. Fuck them for not being honest with me.

And my parents . . . why would they ever think it’d be a good idea to get involved with a criminal? They raised us both to be smarter than that. How could they have bought into whatever bullshit Harlon fed them? How desperate were they for money that they’d jeopardize their livelihood?

Obviously desperate enough. But it doesn’t excuse their actions. And their decision took them away from us, which is such a damn jagged pill to swallow.

The betrayal and the secrets and the lies . . . we all failed that night.

I absently drive toward town, slowing down as I reach the hospital.

I pull into the parking lot. Wyatt must still be here, and I never made it back to see him after his accident.

I should visit him now.

Based on the conversation we had the day we went to Dolly’s for lunch, I don’t think he knows about this sordid mess. He’d mentioned that nobody ever told him about family business dealings, that he only picked up a few things here and there by eavesdropping.

Colt, on the other hand . . .

I shake my head and pull into a spot. I bet he knows everything. He’s always been such a power-hungry prick. He’d sell his soul for it.

A few minutes later, I stab the Up button next to the elevator after getting my visitor pass. Wyatt’s always been a friend, and right now, I need one of those. I need a distraction from the hellfire I unknowingly stumbled into after grocery shopping in town.

“Hey, Savvie,” Wyatt exclaims from where he sits on the bed. “Great timing. I just finished my physical therapy session for today.” He points a thumb at the pretty nurse ogling him. “This one’s a worse tyrant than the rest.”

The nurse giggles, dots of pink popping into her cheeks. “You’re a patient patient,” she says with a wink at him. “See you later.”

But I can’t return Wyatt’s smile. My eyes refuse to stray from Harlon. He sits in a chair in the corner, his dark eyes crinkling at the corners when he sees me.

“How are you doin’, Savvie?” he asks in a pleasant voice.

I move slowly into the room, toward him, my spine stiff.

He turned Blaze into a criminal. He sold his son into servitude, for Pete’s sake. He mismanaged his finances, his life, his family. And he used Blaze to save his own ass.

My lips pull into a straight line, wrath pounding through my temples.

“Savannah, what’s wrong?” Wyatt asks.

I point at Harlon. “You. You did this. You turned your son into a criminal. When you couldn’t handle yourself and the results of your bad decisions, you sold his freedom.”