Chapter 15

"Nate? Nathan? Hello?" Trevor said into his phone, his voice growing more urgent with each unanswered call.

All he could hear was the faint sound of horses neighing in the background, and then nothing. The line was still connected, but Nathan wasn't responding. Sure, Trevor had wanted Nathan to say those words back, "I love you", but not like this. Not whispered in a voice that sounded broken and distant, like a goodbye.

Every instinct Trevor had developed over years of combat screamed that something horrible had just happened.

Trevor bolted upright in his motel bed and immediately started shaking his roommates awake.

"Can y'all try calling Lloyd and Colby?" Trevor demanded, his voice carrying an edge of panic that cut through their sleep-induced confusion.

Jimmy, Ryan, and Teeter groggily reached for their phones, still trying to process what was happening. The calls went straight to voicemail. All of them.

"They must be sleeping," Teeter said, rubbing her eyes. "What's happening?"

Trevor didn't answer. He was already pulling on his jeans and heading for the door, leaving his roommates to follow or not. He ran down the motel hallway to Rip's room, his bare feet slapping against the cold concrete as he pounded on the door.

Rip opened the door looking like he was ready to murder whoever had woken him up at this hour. "What?!"

"Can you please call Beth?" Trevor said, the desperation clear in his voice. "Make sure Nathan is okay?"

Rip frowned, taking in Trevor's panicked state, the way his hands were shaking slightly. Something about Trevor's urgency cut through Rip's irritation. He grabbed his phone from the nightstand.

Beth answered on the third ring, her voice sharp with annoyance. "What the fuck, Rip?! It's 3 AM. You better be horny or–"

"Can you check the bunkhouse? Make sure Nathan is there?"

"Why?"

"Trevor thinks something happened."

There was a pause, and when Beth spoke again, her tone had shifted from annoyed to alert. "Fine. But you owe me."

The line went dead.

"Go back to your room," Rip told Trevor, his voice gentler now. "I'll tell you if anything comes up."

Trevor reluctantly nodded and walked back down the hallway, his mind racing with worst-case scenarios. Every second felt like an hour as he waited for news that he desperately hoped would prove his fears wrong.

—

"Fucking stray..." Beth muttered under her breath as she pulled on her jacket and stepped out of the main house into the cold Montana night.

The walk to the bunkhouse felt longer than usual, her boots crunching on gravel as she tried to shake off the feeling that Trevor's panic might actually be justified. She'd learned to trust the instincts of the men who worked this ranch – they'd kept her family alive more than once.

Beth pushed open the bunkhouse door and scanned the interior. Lloyd and Colby were sleeping peacefully in their bunks, the steady sound of their breathing filling the quiet space. But Nathan's bunk was empty, the covers thrown back like he'd gotten up in a hurry.

Beth frowned and stepped back outside, her eyes adjusting to the darkness as she looked around the ranch yard. That's when she noticed the stable lights were still on – unusual for this time of night. And there was a car parked near the building that she didn't recognize, a sedan that looked completely out of place among the ranch vehicles.

The sight sent a chill down her spine that had nothing to do with the Montana air.

Beth ran toward the stable, her heart rate climbing with each step. She approached the entrance cautiously, every survival instinct she'd inherited from years of living as a Dutton telling her to be careful.

What she found inside the stable made her stomach drop.

There was blood everywhere, pooled on the hay-covered floor, splattered on the wooden walls, more blood than any living person should be able to lose. Beth's eyes found Nathan first, lying motionless near one of the stalls, his face pale and his clothes soaked crimson. Then she saw the other body. A man she didn't recognize, clearly dead, lying in his own pool of blood with what looked like multiple stab wounds.

"Jesus Christ." Beth whispered, but she forced herself to move closer.

Nathan's chest was still rising and falling, barely perceptible but enough to tell her he was alive. Beth dropped to her knees beside him, her hands immediately going to the obvious wound on his side where blood was still seeping out.

She grabbed a nearby rag from the tack room and pressed it firmly against the wound, trying to slow the bleeding. "Don't you fucking die on me, Nate," she said, her voice fierce despite the fear clawing at her throat. "I'll be right back, okay?"

As she prepared to leave, Beth's eyes fell on the dead man's face. Something about his features was familiar: the angular jaw, the cold eyes even in death. Then it hit her. She'd seen him before, in a framed photograph that had been sitting on Nathan's desk at the clinic in Los Angeles over a year ago. The husband Nathan had never talked about, never explained, but whose presence in that picture had radiated the kind of possessive control that Beth recognized all too well.

Beth sprinted back toward the bunkhouse, bursting through the door with enough force to wake the dead.

"Lloyd! Colby! Get up, NOW!" she shouted, not caring about subtlety anymore.

Both men jolted awake, immediately alert at the urgency in her voice.

"Nathan's been hurt," Beth said quickly. "Bad. We need to get him to the hospital right fucking now. There's no time to wait for an ambulance."

—

Beth, Lloyd, and Colby reached the stable together, their boots pounding against the wooden floor as they took in the horrific scene. The amount of blood was staggering, and Nathan looked so pale and still that for a moment Colby thought they were too late.

"Jesus Christ, what the fuck happened?" Colby breathed, his voice barely above a whisper.

Lloyd's weathered face was grim as he looked from Nathan to the dead man lying nearby. Something about the scene told a story that made his chest tight with regret.

"Who's that?" Lloyd asked, nodding toward the corpse.

"Nathan's worst fucking nightmare." Beth replied, her voice carrying a cold fury that promised retribution.

Lloyd felt a pang of guilt hit him like a physical blow. Nathan had told him about being married to a bad man, had trusted him with pieces of his story. Lloyd had thought being on the ranch would be enough to protect him, that distance and the Dutton name would keep the past at bay. Apparently, he'd been wrong.

Beth pulled her car keys from her pocket and threw them to Colby. "Go get my car. We're taking Nate to the hospital. Quick!"

Colby nodded and sprinted out of the stable without another word. Beth turned to Lloyd, her expression deadly serious.

"Take care of it, will you?"

Lloyd nodded grimly. He understood exactly what she meant, and why it couldn't be handled any other way. He knelt beside Peter's body and began going through his pockets, finding a rental car key among other things. Lloyd pressed the button and the sedan outside beeped in response.

Perfect. A rental meant fewer connections to trace, fewer complications to worry about later.

Lloyd grabbed Peter's body under the arms and began dragging it toward the stable entrance. The man was heavy, but Lloyd had handled worse in his time. He loaded the corpse into the rental car's trunk, wiping down anything he might have touched with a rag from his pocket.

Colby returned with Beth's SUV, jumping out to help her carefully lift Nathan into the backseat. Nathan remained unconscious throughout the transfer, his breathing shallow but steady.

"You drive, Colby." Beth ordered, climbing into the back seat to stay with Nathan.

Lloyd approached the driver's side window. "Come pick me up after you get them to the hospital."

Colby nodded, knowing exactly where he would have to pick up Lloyd. Every ranch hand knew about The Train Station, even if they'd never been there themselves.

The two cars pulled away from the stable in different directions. Beth's SUV heading toward town and the hospital, while Lloyd drove the rental car toward a destination where Peter Burton would disappear forever, leaving behind no trace that he'd ever found the ranch or the man he'd spent a year hunting.

—

Beth kept one hand pressed firmly against Nathan's wound, feeling the warm blood seeping through the makeshift bandage despite her efforts. Nathan was muttering something incoherent, still responding but getting paler by the minute. With her free hand, she pulled out her phone and called Rip.

He answered immediately.

"It's bad, Rip," Beth said, her voice tight with controlled panic. "His husband was at the ranch, Nathan killed him... Trevor should be here."

There was a long pause before Rip's voice came back, heavy with understanding. "...Got it."

He hung up without another word.

"Don't you fucking die on me, Nate. Not after everything." Beth whispered, pressing harder against the wound.

Nathan's eyes fluttered open slowly, unfocused and glassy as he looked up at her. His voice was barely a whisper, and when he spoke, it was clear he wasn't seeing Beth at all. He was somewhere between life and death, memories flooding back as his mind began to slip away.

"... Mom?"

Then his eyes rolled back and he went unconscious again.

"Shit! Faster, Colby, faster!" Beth shouted, panic finally breaking through her controlled facade.

Colby pressed the accelerator to the floor, the SUV racing through the Montana darkness toward the hospital.

—

In Texas, Rip emerged from his motel room and ran toward the ranch hands' quarters, not bothering to knock before entering. Everyone was awake, Trevor pacing back and forth like a caged animal, while Jimmy, Ryan, and Teeter sat on their beds watching him with concern.

Rip immediately grabbed Trevor by the face, forcing him to stop pacing and make eye contact.

"W-what happened?" Trevor stammered, his eyes wild with fear.

"I don't want you to ask me questions," Rip said, his voice carrying absolute authority. "I need you to listen to me and do exactly as I say. Understand?!"

Trevor's eyes darted around, his whole body fidgeting with nervous energy.

"Say it!" Rip demanded.

Trevor finally focused on Rip's face, nodding shakily. "... Understood."

"You're gonna go to the airport and take the very next flight to Montana. Beth will text you where to go."

Trevor nodded again, his mind already racing ahead to what he needed to do.

"Now go!"

Trevor grabbed his duffel bag in a rush, shoving random clothes into it without any organization. Within seconds, he was bolting out the door, leaving his teammates to wonder what the hell had just happened and whether they'd ever see Nathan alive again.

After Trevor bolted from the room, the remaining ranch hands sat in stunned silence for a moment, trying to process what had just happened. Ryan was the first to speak.

"What the hell happened?"

Rip sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair. "Nathan's husband got him."

"Husband?" Ryan's voice pitched higher with confusion. "What husband?"

"... Fuck." Teeter whispered, her face going pale.

Teeter and Jimmy exchanged a meaningful look that didn't go unnoticed by Ryan.

"What do you mean 'fuck,' Teeter?" Ryan demanded, frowning at her. "Talk."

Teeter looked around at the three men, clearly wrestling with whether she should reveal Nathan's secrets. "It ain't my story to tell..." she said slowly, then seemed to make a decision. "But the reason why Nathan never showered with y'all is because he has initials carved on his left chest. If his husband did that, God help us all what else he could do to him."

"Jesus Christ," Jimmy breathed, pieces clicking together in his mind. "Trevor slipped out one time, saying he was being compared to Nathan's husband. That's why they fought back then."

Ryan shrugged, feeling a bit left out for being the last to know, but he pushed down his wounded pride. This wasn't about him right now.

"The husband's dead," Rip said quietly. "Nathan killed him."

The weight of that statement hit all three of them simultaneously. Teeter, Jimmy, and Ryan realized just how serious the situation was. Not just Nathan's physical injuries, but what he must have endured to reach the point where killing his abuser was the only way out.

"Poor boy," Teeter whispered, her voice breaking slightly. "Poor boy, I hope Nathan makes it."

"Me too," Rip replied grimly. "'Cause if we lose him, we'll lose Trevor too. That man is his light."

Ryan looked between Teeter and Jimmy, his expression serious. "From now on, we gotta tell each other shit, because this... this is fucked up. We're supposed to be family, and family doesn't keep secrets that could get each other killed."

The room fell silent again, all of them thinking about Nathan fighting for his life thousands of miles away, and Trevor racing through the night to get to him.

—

The SUV screeched to a halt in front of the emergency room entrance at Bozeman General Hospital. Beth was out of the car before it had fully stopped, her blood-stained hands visible as she ran toward the automatic doors.

"I need help! NOW!" she shouted, her voice carrying the kind of authority that made hospital staff move immediately.

Within seconds, medical personnel were rushing out with a stretcher. Nathan looked even paler under the harsh fluorescent lights of the hospital entrance, his breathing shallow and labored as they transferred him from the backseat.

"Just take my car, go pick up Lloyd," Beth ordered Colby without looking back, already following the medical team as they wheeled Nathan through the doors.

Colby nodded and drove off into the night, heading toward a destination where Lloyd would be finishing business that could never be discussed.

Inside the hospital, Beth's presence commanded immediate attention from the nursing staff, but she wasn't interested in their standard procedures.

"I need Dr. Stafford," she demanded, her tone brooking no argument. "Now."

The Duttons had a relationship with Dr. Stafford that went back years. He was competent, discreet, and most importantly, he didn't ask questions about how patients ended up in certain conditions. Nathan definitely wasn't the first person who'd been brought to this hospital from the ranch in similar circumstances, and Dr. Stafford understood that some situations required medical care without police reports.

"Dr. Stafford is on duty tonight," a nurse confirmed, already paging him. "He'll be right down."

Within minutes, Dr. Stafford appeared, took one look at Nathan's condition, and immediately started barking orders to his team. They wheeled Nathan toward the trauma bay, leaving Beth standing in the hallway watching them disappear behind double doors.

Beth made her way to the waiting room, finally allowing herself to sit down. She looked down at her dress, now stained with Nathan's blood, and sighed deeply. The metallic smell lingered on her hands despite her attempts to wash it off in the bathroom.

All she could do now was wait and hope that Nathan was strong enough to fight his way back from whatever dark place his mind had taken him. She pulled out her phone to text Trevor the hospital information, knowing he was probably already at the airport, desperate for any news about the man who'd become his whole world.

—

Lloyd drove the rental car through the winding mountain roads until he reached the place that existed on no official map. A remote canyon area past the Montana border into Wyoming. No people, no law enforcement, no judge and jury, and no one living within a hundred miles in any direction. It was a place where problems disappeared permanently, where the Duttons' enemies found their final resting place.

This was exactly where Peter Burton belonged.

Lloyd parked near the edge of the cliff and got out, the morning air crisp and clean in his lungs. He opened the back door and dragged Peter's lifeless body around to the driver's seat, propping him up behind the wheel with the efficiency of someone who'd done this before. Too many times before.

He put the car in neutral, then positioned himself behind the vehicle. With a grunt of effort, Lloyd began pushing the rental car toward the precipice. The vehicle gained momentum as it approached the edge, then sailed over the cliff into the canyon below.

Lloyd watched as the car tumbled down the rocky face, metal scraping against stone, until it finally crashed at the bottom in an explosion of twisted steel and flame. The sound echoed through the canyon for a moment before fading into the eternal silence of the wilderness.

"I'm sorry, kid." Lloyd said quietly, his words carried away by the mountain wind.

He didn't know if Nathan would make it through his injuries, didn't know if he'd ever get the chance to apologize to the young man's face for failing to protect him. This was the least Lloyd could do, cleaning up the aftermath of what Nathan had been forced to do to save his own life.

Out of all the bodies Lloyd had brought to this place over the years, this one stung a little more. Not because Peter Burton didn't deserve his fate, but because Nathan had been forced to become a killer to survive. The kid had come to the ranch broken and afraid, and they'd promised him safety. Lloyd had failed in that promise.

The sun was beginning to rise over the canyon rim, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink, when Colby's headlights appeared on the distant road. Lloyd took one last look at the burning wreckage below, then walked toward Beth's SUV, ready to return to the hospital and wait for news about whether Nathan would live to see another Montana sunrise.

—

The plane touched down at Bozeman Yellowstone International Airport after what felt like the longest flight of Trevor's life. He'd sat rigid in his seat for hours, his mind racing through every possible scenario of what could have happened to Nathan. Each possibility was worse than the last.

The moment the seatbelt sign turned off, Trevor was up and moving, pushing past other passengers with single-minded determination. In his haste, he left his duffel bag in the overhead compartment, but material possessions were the least of his concerns right now.

Trevor pulled out his phone as he hurried through the terminal, seeing a text from Beth that had come through two hours ago while he was still in the air: Bozeman General Hospital. Emergency room.

That was it. No explanation, no reassurance, just an address that made Trevor's blood run cold. His imagination filled in the gaps with images that made his hands shake as he frantically looked for ground transportation.

"Hospital," Trevor told the taxi driver, climbing into the backseat. "Bozeman General. Fast as you can."

The drive through the Montana countryside that Trevor usually found peaceful now felt like torture. Every red light, every slow turn, every second that ticked by was another moment Nathan might be slipping away. Trevor stared out the window, his leg bouncing with nervous energy, watching the familiar landscape blur past while his mind conjured increasingly horrific scenarios.

When they finally pulled up to the hospital, Trevor threw money at the driver and bolted from the taxi before it had fully stopped. He stood outside the automatic doors for a moment, taking a shaky breath that did nothing to calm his nerves.

Whatever waited for him inside those doors, whatever had happened to Nathan, Trevor knew his world was about to change forever. He just prayed there would still be something left to save.

With that thought driving him forward, Trevor stepped through the entrance and into the harsh fluorescent lighting of the emergency room, his heart hammering against his ribs as he prepared to face the worst night of his life.