Page 41 of Property of Legend

God, I don’t even need to see him yet.That sound alone makes my spine straighten and my pulse flicker.And sure enough, he’s off the bike in a second, eyes locking onto mine like he felt the tension all the way from Hell.

“Trouble?”he asks, stepping up with that calm, dangerous energy he wears so well.

“Family,” I mutter.“Worse than any damn enemy.”

He chuckles, all rough and low.“Ain’t that the damn truth.”

I lean against the porch rail, arms crossed, trying not to let him see how much I needed him to show up.“James thinks I’m throwing away everything Dad built.”

Legend moves in closer, just enough to make me feel steady again.“You’re protectin’ it.The boy just don’t see the difference.”

I glance up at him, hating the ache in my throat.“You think he ever will?”

“Maybe,” he says, brushing his thumb against my cheek like he has every right to.“Maybe not.Either way, it don’t change what you are.”

“What am I?”I ask, voice smaller than I want it to be.

His eyes flare hot and serious, but he doesn’t answer me.“I’m not just here to protect you, Sophie.I’m here to stand with you.”

That last part… it lodges deep.Too deep.

I let out a breath, leaning into his touch because I can’t help myself.“Thank you.”

He doesn’t smile, not really, but his eyes soften, his jaw eases, and the tension in my chest loosens just a little.

“I won’t let anything touch you,” he says, voice rough with promise.“Not them.Not him.”

And for a minute, under the Kentucky stars, I let myself believe him.Let myself fall just a little more.

When I shouldn’t fall.

He’s not just my protector.

He’s my war.

One I wasn’t sure I wanted to keep fighting.

“There’s something I’ve kept hidden.If I’m going to survive this, you need to see it,” I say as I pull Legend toward the barn.

Chapter 22

Legend

Moonlight spills across Paradise Falls like a damn phantom, lighting up the fields and barns in silver and shadow.Everything out here feels like it’s watchin’ us, like the land remembers all the blood, sweat, and betrayal it’s soaked up over the years.

Sophie walks beside me, her fingers brushing mine every few steps.Feels like lightning every damn time.She’s quiet, but her mind’s workin’ overtime.I can see it in the way her stoic face and her eyes won’t meet mine.

“I found some old letters,” she says, voice soft, but tight.She pulls a heavy iron key from her pants pocket and unlocks the door to the oldest barn on the property.“Dad kept them hidden.They hint at some kind of secret.Something to do with the farm.”

The second we step inside, I’m hit with the smell, aged bourbon, dust, old hay, and secrets that’ve been sealed up too long.The place groans like it’s got somethin’ to say.Floor creaks under our boots as she leads me toward the back, where a rusted trunk sits like a damn tomb.

She drops to her knees and flips open the lid.Yellowed letters tied in faded ribbon, the kind of thing you don’t just forget about.I crouch beside her, watching her hands, small, steady, work through history.

She frowns, skimming the top page.“Looks like business dealings gone wrong.My father’s handwriting.Payments made secretly… something about a debt.”

“Debt?”I mutter, leaning in.My gut’s already churnin’.“To who?”

She meets my eyes, and there it is, fear, clear and sharp.“The Pearly Gates Community.Your adopted father… Reverend Crowley.”

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