Page 111 of When the Smoke Clears

He knows exactly where to hit me. His fingers slam into my injured shoulder—right where metal tore through muscle and bone.

White-hot pain detonates. My knees buckle. A sound tears from my throat—raw, animal.

“Nathaniel—” I gasp.

But he doesn’t stop.

He grabs the nearest object—a heavy pistol from the open gun case—and brings it down in a brutal arc.

The butt of the weapon cracks against my temple.

Light erupts. The world fractures. My body collapses sideways, vision dissolving into a dark, pulsing haze.

Somewhere far away, through water and static, I hear a door slamming and my mother screaming my name.

I fight the darkness clawing at me. I try to rise. But the world keeps tilting, slipping, folding in on itself⁠—

And then everything goes black.

I awaken to the sound of a familiar voice. Scared. Feminine. It anchors me.

Savannah.

“Luke, can you hear me?”

My eyelids peel open, heavy as stone. She looms above me, eyes sharp with worry.

“Sav,” I croak, blood thick on my tongue. “We have to find him.”

Dalton’s grip clamps under my arm, hauling me upright. His strength steadies me even as pain detonates in my skull. “We’re on it.”

Behind him, Chase stands like a flame barely contained, fury blazing in his eyes.

My mother huddles against Eden, both trembling, their grief-stricken faces nearly undoing me.

“I called the sheriff’s station,” Mom whispers. “Then I called your brothers and sisters.”

I grit my teeth, sucking in air through the pain. “Good. Because Nathaniel’s not finished, he’s involved in something out of his control, and he’s scared. There’s no telling what he’s capable of.”

Tim barrels through the doorway with two deputies on his heels, eyes already raking the office like a crime scene. Papers litter the floor like confetti after a parade no one wanted to attend.

My gun glints from under the desk where it settled. The glass-front gun case hangs open, a jagged spiderweb where his fist—or my back—hit it.

Tim takes in the scene. “What the hell happened here?”

“Nathaniel,” I say, forcing the words through a throat lined with glass. “He’s responsible for Isla’s accident. And my shooting. He’s in deep with some horrible people. As soon as I started looking into it, they tried to have me killed.”

A collective inhale—sharp, disbelieving. Savannah’s hand flies to her mouth. Chase stiffens like he’s been struck. Dalton’s jaw squares into stone.

Tim’s gaze lifts to mine, flickering over the blood at my hairline. “You sure?”

“I’m sure.” The room tilts for a beat; I steady myself on the edge of the desk. Pain pulses behind my eyes in wicked, steady waves. “We’re not discussing this here. We need to move. He’s armed and desperate.”

Tim nods once, clipped and all business. “On it. BOLO goes out now.”

“Pull traffic cams, highway ramps,” I add. “Notify Cedar Hollow PD we need a K-9 if they can spare a unit. And pick up two people for questioning. Alan Gordon and Stacy Rivera.”

Savannah’s head snaps toward me. “Stacy?”