90"the only option?"

The house had gone quiet. They press camped outside for a long time. This is day three. The house wasn't peaceful quiet. It was The heavy kind.The kind that settled after too much shouting, too much fear, too many people trying to pretend everything wasn't falling apart. Outside, the reporters were still there.Even through the walls I could hear the faint murmur of generators, the occasional shout, the hum of news vans outside like vultures.I stood alone in the laundry room folding towels when my phone buzzed in my pocket.

Unknown number. Normally I wouldn't answer. Something in my gut told me to. "Hello?"

A pause.

Then—

"Willie." My stomach dropped.

Jamie.

I glanced toward the door instinctively before stepping deeper into the room and pulling the door shut behind me. My voice came out cautious. "How did you get this number?"

"You really think I can't find your number?"I closed my eyes briefly. "What do you want?"His tone softened. "I'm trying to help you."That almost made me laugh. "You don't help people unless it helps you."

"Maybe," he admitted. "But in this case, it can help both of us." I gripped the phone tighter."I'm hanging up."

"If you hang up," he said quickly, "you're going to prison." My breath caught. Silence.Then— He had me. He knew it too. His voice lowered. "They're building a serious case against you, Willie." I swallowed hard."You don't know that."

"I do know that," he said flatly. "And I know who they hired." A chill crept through me."What do you mean?"

"They retained counsel this morning. Special prosecutor."

My stomach twisted. "Who?"

He paused. Like he knew saying the name would mean nothing—but the weight behind it would. "Naomi Redbird."

I frowned. "I don't know who that is."

"You should." His tone sharpened. "She's Native. Nationally recognized. Built her entire career prosecuting hate crimes and racially motivated violence. She hasn't lost a case."The room suddenly felt too warm. Too small.I sank slowly onto the edge of the washer."She's media gold," Jamie continued. "Smart. Polished. Attractive. Indigenous. And her father helped prosecute Nazis after World War Two."

My throat went dry. "What?"

"You heard me. Her family name carries serious legal prestige. The media is already eating it up."

My hand trembled against the phone.

"She's very, very good, Willie."

My voice cracked. "No..."

"She will bury you."

Tears stung instantly.

"She will stand in front of twelve people and paint you as a privileged white ranch girl who beat a Native man to death in the street."

"That's not what happened—"

"It doesn't matter what happened!" Jamie snapped. His voice made me flinch."It matters what they can convince a jury happened."Silence. Then quieter— "And right now? You're losing."

I stared at the floor. Couldn't breathe right.Couldn't think. "I can help you," he said.My eyes squeezed shut. Of course there it was.The hook. "How?"

He answered immediately. "I can get you out of this."

I laughed bitterly through tears. "No one can."

"I can."

My voice turned small. "How?"

He inhaled slowly. "Because I know how the state works. I know the courts. I know the prosecutors. I know how to tear apart their case before it ever gets near a jury."

Hope flared in my chest— Ugly and desperate.Dangerous. And he knew it. "I can save you from prison, Willie."

My hand shook harder.

"I can keep you with your daughter." My chest caved. He had picked exactly the right words.Exactly the right fear.

"What do you want?" I whispered. He didn't hesitate. "You work with me."

Cold swept through me. "What?"

"You help me take down John."

I stood so fast the washer rattled. "No."

"Listen to me—"

"No—"

"He hit you," Jamie snapped.

I froze. Silence.

Then quieter— "He hit you your entire childhood. He hates your guys for fucking years willie."

My breathing stopped. "That's the past.."

"Bullshit."

I swallowed.

Jamie pressed on. "He let Beth torture you your whole life."

I said nothing. "He let you believe you killed our mother."

My hand began trembling violently. "He watched Beth scar your face and did nothing."

"Stop—"

"He let you suffer—"

"STOP!" My voice cracked so loudly it echoed in the small room. Silence followed.My chest heaved.

Jamie spoke again, softer now. "Why are you protecting him?"

Tears spilled down my cheeks. "He's still my father."

"No," Jamie said coldly. "He's the man who made you think pain was love."That hit hard enough I had to brace myself on the counter. I hated him for saying it.Because part of me knew he wasn't entirely wrong.

Jamie's voice turned clinical. "All I need is your cooperation."

I swallowed. "What kind of cooperation?"

He paused. Then said it like it was simple."You tell the authorities what John's done."

Ice flooded my veins."No."

"You tell them where the bodies are dumped."

My knees nearly gave out. "No—"

"You know where."

"I don't—"

"Yes, you do."

His voice hardened. "Everyone knows enough."

My whole body went cold. "No."

"You testify. You give statements. You hand over everything he's done."

"I can't—"

"You can if you want to raise your daughter outside a prison cell."

My breath hitched sharply. There it was.The real threat. The one that mattered most.Patsy. He knew. He knew exactly where to sink the knife.

"You help me destroy him," Jamie said, "and I will make sure you walk free."

Tears poured harder now. I couldn't think. Couldn't process. My mind ran in frantic circles— John would kill me. Beth would kill me.

Rip— Walker— The ranch— Everything would burn. But prison? Losing Patsy?Watching my little girl grow up without me?My voice came out broken."You're asking me to betray my family."

Jamie laughed softly. "Willie... they betrayed you first." The words lodged like glass in my chest. He kept going. "You think John would choose you over the ranch?" Silence. "You think Beth would save you?"

Silence. "You think any of them would sacrifice their empire so you can stay free?"More silence. Because deep down— I didn't know. And that terrified me. Jamie's voice softened one last time. "Think about your daughter." My knees finally gave. I sank to the floor. Crying quietly into the empty room."You don't have long," he said.

Then—

Click.

The line went dead.

And I sat there on the laundry room floor staring at nothing.

Phone limp in my hand.

Heart hammering.

Mind spinning.

Jamie wasn't trying to save me.He was trying to use me.But that didn't make his offer any less tempting.Because prison was real.Because fear was real. Because for all the love I had finally found— For all the strength I had fought to build— There was still one thing in this world powerful enough to make me betray everything.

The thought of losing my child.

And when the laundry room door creaked openWalker found me curled on the floor, sobbing so hard I couldn't breathe.

He rushed to me instantly. "Blondie girl..—what happened?"I looked up at him through tears. And whispered the truth that tasted like poison—

"Jamie says he can save me."

Walker went still. His face changed instantly.And I knew— Nothing about this was going to get easier.

"Will... no.. you can't.."

"I.. I know I can't.."

"You'll end up dead" he said. I understood that. I would be better off in prison where I could at least hear from my child... I can't hear from my child if I'm murdered. "I don't know what to do..."

...