Luke takes my hand again, and we walk away from the compound together. Away from the wreckage and the bodies and the evidence of everything we've done.
Turner took a lot from us, but standing in Luke’s arms as the sun rises over Iron Ridge, I realize Turner failed to take the one thing that matters.
Our future.
73
HARPER
The island is ridiculous.
I mean, I knew the Reyes family had money—you don't run a cartel empire without serious resources—but this is something else entirely. White sand beaches that stretch for miles. Crystal clear water in shades of turquoise I didn't know existed outside of travel magazines. Palm trees swaying in the warm breeze. Private bungalows scattered along the coastline, each one designed for maximum privacy and luxury.
Three weeks ago, I was standing in the wreckage of Turner's compound with my father's blood soaked into my clothes.
Now I'm barefoot on a private beach in the Caribbean, watching the sunset paint the sky in shades of pink and gold.
The contrast is almost obscene.
Gabriel Reyes arranged everything. He said it’s a "thank you" for our cooperation during the Turner situation. The Reyes family felt they owed us a debt for handling a problem they should have caught sooner.
Luke thinks Gabriel's motivations are more complicated than gratitude—that he's establishing a relationship with Blackthorn for future use. Jake agrees. Mason's reserving judgment.
I agree with Luke, but that’s not for today.
Right now, all I care about is the fact that Blackthorn Ranch is being restored, and we're all here on this island, healing from everything we survived.
Emma and Jake have the bungalow closest to the main house. Emma's pregnancy is showing now—a small, perfect bump that Jake can't stop touching. She's glowing, happy and safe.
Mason and Lily claimed the bungalow on the north side, tucked into the trees for privacy. Lily's been spending her days painting watercolors of the ocean. Mason spends his days watching her paint. They're disgustingly in love.
Luke and I took the bungalow on the south end, the one with direct beach access and zero neighbors. Privacy was nonnegotiable.
I walk down to the water's edge, letting the warm waves lap at my ankles. The sun is setting, turning everything golden. I close my eyes and breathe in salt air and freedom.
Three weeks since Gabriel took Turner.
Three weeks since my father died saving my life.
Three weeks since I walked away from everything I thought I knew about justice and law and right and wrong.
I should feel guilty. I should feel conflicted.
But standing here with the ocean at my feet and the sky on fire above me, all I feel is peace.
"There you are."
I turn to find Luke walking toward me across the sand. He's shirtless, wearing only board shorts that hang low on his hips. His skin is tanned from days in the sun, his hair lighter, his body relaxed in a way I've never seen before.
He looks happy.
He reaches me and slides his arms around my waist, pulling me against his chest. "You disappeared."
"I needed a minute."
"Thinking about your dad?"
I nod against his shoulder. "And everything else."