Page 63 of Property of Legend

“No,” I snap, eyes burning.“Legend wouldn’t… not him.Not like this.”

The Reverend touches my shoulder, fatherly, manipulative.“You don’t have to decide now.Rest.When you're ready, we’ll help you reclaim your land.Your name.Notify the Derby officials.You’ll need to make appearances, let people see you’re alive and back in control.”

I turn my face away.The sight of the church makes me sick.Like old hymnals and judgment.

Somewhere deep in my gut, I know Legend didn’t set me up.But the Kings?The club?I’ve heard the rumors.I’ve seen the looks.If they really are tangled up in something darker than I imagined… then maybe I never knew who I was dealing with in the first place.

I thought I saw a monster in the woods.

But maybe the real monsters hide behind loyalty.Behind leather and laughter and the illusion of safety.

I close my eyes and let the fear sink in.

Because right now, I don’t know who to trust.

Chapter 37

Legend

I’m tearing up Central Kentucky like the devil’s behind me, and maybe he is.Maybe I invited him in the second I kissed her.

Every backroad, every holler, every strip of gravel I’ve ever burned through, I hit ‘em again like they’ll give up a clue.Bullet’s out near the county line.Derby’s sniffing around the old rail yard.Oaks is checking barns in Casey where the Depraved Sinners were last seen.I’m not sleeping.Not stopping.Not until I find her.

And all the while, her voice is in my damn head.

That last fight.The hurt in her eyes.The way I walked away like it would keep her safe.Like pushing her outta my world would keep the monsters at bay.I thought I was doin’ the right thing.Hell, IknewI was wrong the second I said it, but I told myself the lie anyway.

Now she’s gone.

And it’s on me.

I think about every man who wants me dead.Every scumbag I’ve beat down or locked in a shed or crossed in a deal.I gave them a target when I let Sophie in.

I made her vulnerable.

And then I left her alone.

I’m in some no-name bar outside Lawrenceburg, where high rollers mix with low lives, my fists wrapped in the bartender’s collar, slamming him against the wood wall ‘cause heknows something, or at least, he better.He’s gasping and babbling when the flat screen behind the bar changes from weather to breaking news.

And I hear her name.

I freeze.

“This just in.Sophie Montgomery, the missing heiress of Paradise Falls Farm, has been found alive.Local reports say she was discovered at Pearly Gates Church, the isolated religious compound north of Hell, KY.”

The whole bar goes quiet.The man I was choking slides to the floor, forgotten.

I turn to the screen.

“The Reverend Ezekiel Crowley, longtime spiritual leader of Pearly Gates, claims his congregation rescued Montgomery after spotting her running from what she described as… a creature.”

The anchor snorts.“Yes, folks, another Kentucky cryptid sighting.Move over, Pope Lick Monster, and make room for what social media’s already calling… the Paradise Falls Demon.”

Laughter.Some jackass two stools down shouts, “Somebody check if she’s been drinkin’ that green apple moonshine!”

I grip the edge of the bar so hard it groans under my hand.I see red.Not because they’re mocking her.Because shesaw it.Whatever the hell I saw that night, she saw it too.

And nobody’s listenin’.

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