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Somewhere upstairs in this house is Grace.

And none of this—not Ray, not my job, not even twenty years with Levi—matters if she’s not okay.

Levi studies my face for a long moment. I think he sees it. The line I’m willing to cross.

He moves first. His gun swings up. The bullet rips past my ear and buries itself in the wall behind me.

I fire twice.

Both rounds slam into his left shoulder. The impact spins him backward and he crashes onto the bottom of the stairs with a heavy thud. Blood blooms fast and dark across his shirt.

For one frozen heartbeat, I stare at him sprawled there on the foyer floor, one hand clamped over his ruined shoulder while blood pours between his fingers.

“Told you that gun was fucked,” I mutter.

Levi lets out a short, pained breath that might’ve been a laugh. Then his hand twitches toward the pistol lying nearby.

I kick it across the floor before he can reach it.

Then I step over him and head upstairs.

Because Grace is all that matters now.

Maverick is sitting on Grace’s bed, turning one of her old stuffed animals over in his hands. When he looks up and sees me in the doorway with the gun raised, his expression twists into pure disgust.

“I was hoping those shots were you,” he says, far too calm for a man staring down a barrel.

“Where is she?” I demand.

“Gone.” He shrugs, cold and indifferent. “Thanks to you, she’s out there with nothing. Just the shame she’s brought on this family.”

“You can fuck right off with that bullshit,” I snap. “Where did she go?”

Maverick gives a small, dismissive shrug. “How should I know?” His eyes narrow with contempt. “Tell me it was drugs, at least. That’s how you got to her, isn’t it?”

For a second I just stare at him. Then I laugh.

“Drugs?” I shake my head. “I didn’t need drugs. She came onto me. I tried to do the right thing. Your daughter made that very difficult. But honestly…I didn’t fight it as hard as I could have.” I smirk, unable to stop myself. “For a girl raised to behave, Grace was surprisingly enthusiastic⁠—”

“I’ll kill you,” he hisses. Maverick’s face twists with disgust and rage.

“You tried that,” I gesture toward the stairs. “Also, probably not the smartest thing to say to the man holding the gun.”

To his credit, the gun doesn’t seem to frighten him. The old man’s either brave or completely insane.

One squeeze and this smug, heartless piece of shit would never hurt her again.

But Levi is still downstairs. If he’s alive, I’m already a dead man walking. And even if Maverick deserves it, I’m not sure Grace would forgive me for putting a bullet in her father’s head.

More importantly, I don’t have time to clean this up properly. A body in the Whitmores’ house wouldn’t stay quiet for long. It would hit the news within hours.

Too much hassle.

I force my finger off the trigger and lower the gun.

“You know,” I say quietly, “you never actually took the time to know her.”

Maverick says nothing.