Mag-log inColt's face on the screen looked tired. Haunted. Like a man carrying unbearable weight."Jenna, if you are watching this, then my plan worked. I am gone. And you are safe." He smiled sadly. "I know you are probably angry. Confused. Feeling like I abandoned you. But I need you to understand something. Everything I did was to protect you."I could not breathe. Could not move."Six months ago, I was approached by a man named Marcus Bain. He claimed to be my half-brother. Had documentation. DNA evidence. Everything." Colt's expression darkened. "At first, I believed him. Wanted to build a relationship. But then I noticed things. Inconsistencies. Lies. So I investigated."Mouse paused the video. "Should we be recording this?""No. Let it play. I need to hear everything."The video resumed."Marcus Bain is not my brother. He is a con artist. A killer. And he came to Redemption Creek for one reason—to steal something my biological father gave me. Something Marcus thinks rightfully belongs to
"Find him!" I screamed. "Search every inch of this compound. He cannot have gone far."The club mobilized within minutes. Searching. Securing. Locking down.But James was gone. Like a ghost."How did he get past our guards?" Razor demanded."I do not know. But he planned this. Every step." I stared at the note. "He used us. Used me. To confirm Colt was really dead. To make sure his crime stayed hidden.""Why would he kill his own brother?""I do not know. But we are going to find out." I pulled up James's file. Everything he had told us. "Start here. Verify every single thing he said. His background. His story. All of it."Mouse worked through the night. By morning, he had answers."James Richardson is not his real name. It is an alias." Mouse pulled up records. "His real name is Marcus Bain. Born in Oregon. Criminal record. Assault. Fraud. Identity theft.""So he is a con artist.""More than that. He is a professional. He targets wealthy families. Insinuates himself. Gains trust. The
We brought James back to the compound. Under protection. Hidden from public view.If someone was targeting people who looked like Colt, we needed to keep James safe.Mae nearly fainted when she saw him. "Oh my God. You look exactly like him.""That is because I am his identical twin." James's voice was hard. "Did you really not know?""I swear. Colt's mother never told me. Never told anyone." Mae sank into a chair. "How is this possible?"While Mae processed, I gathered my core team. Razor. Hammer. Riley. Mouse."We have a problem. Colt's death might not have been what we thought." I laid out everything James discovered. The inconsistencies. The timeline problems. The suspicious disappearance of the investigator."Even if this is all true, what can we do?" Hammer asked. "Colt is dead. Exhuming the body would require legal authority we do not have.""Then we get that authority." I looked at Mouse. "Can you forge exhumation orders?""Probably. But that is a serious crime—""I do not car
I sat in the dingy motel room, gun on my lap, staring at the man who wore Colt's face."Start talking," I said. "All of it."James Richardson lit a cigarette, studying me with eyes that were both familiar and foreign."Colt and I were born thirty-seven years ago. Twins. But our mother could not handle two babies. So she gave me up. Kept Colt." His voice was bitter. "I grew up in foster care. Bouncing from home to home. While Colt had a family. A life. Everything I should have had.""Why did no one tell me about you?""Because no one knew. Our mother never told anyone. Not even Mae. She was ashamed. Kept it secret until she died." James exhaled smoke. "I only found out I had a brother three years ago. When I did a DNA ancestry test. Found Colt's profile. Realized we were twins.""Did Colt know about you?""Eventually. I reached out. We met. Had coffee. Talked." James smiled sadly. "He wanted to build a relationship. Wanted me to meet his family. His club. But I said no.""Why?""Becaus
Three months after Colt's memorial, Daniel moved into the compound.Not into my room. We were not there yet. But into his own space. Close enough to build something. Far enough to maintain boundaries.Things were good. Better than good.Until the photograph arrived.It came in a plain manila envelope. No return address. No note.Just a single photo.Colt. Alive. Standing outside a diner in Nevada.Dated two months ago.I stared at it for ten minutes. Trying to make sense of what I was seeing.It was impossible. Colt died eighteen months ago. I saw the autopsy report. The toxicology results. The death certificate.But the photo was clear. Recent. Undeniably him."Razor," I called. "Get in here. Now."He appeared within seconds. "What is wrong?"I handed him the photo without a word.His face went white. "Where did you get this?""Someone sent it. Anonymously." I looked at him. "Is there any possibility—any at all—that Colt survived?""No. We identified the body. DNA matched. It was him
Two weeks after the truth came out, I went to Colt's grave one last time.Not to mourn. But to say goodbye."I know the truth now," I said. "About your depression. Your plans. Your decision." I knelt beside the headstone. "And I am angry. Furious. Because you lied. You made me think you died saving me when really you were just trying to escape your pain."The wind picked up. Like he was listening."But I also understand. Because I know what it is like to be so broken you cannot see a way forward. I know what it is like to think death is easier than living." I touched the stone. "So I forgive you. For lying. For leaving. For choosing death over fighting beside me."Tears streamed down my face."But I also want you to know something. You were wrong. Love was not not enough to save you. But that does not mean you were not worth saving." I smiled through the tears. "You were worth everything. And I am going to spend the rest of my life making sure your death meant something. That your sac







