Page 72 of Montana Justice

Her eyes opened as my shadow fell across her, and I watched the sequence of emotions play out—relief at seeing me, then confusion at my expression, then naked fear as understanding dawned.

“Lachlan.” My name came out as barely a whisper.

“Get up.”

She struggled to stand, using the wall for support. The washcloth fell forgotten to the ground. Up close, I could see she was shaking—fine tremors that ran through her whole body.

“I can explain?—”

“Can you? Can you explain how you’ve been reporting every word I say to your father? How you’ve been helping him sell drugs that have gotten people killed?” My voice rose with each question. “How many weapons are on the street because you warned your father and his cronies about our raids?”

She flinched at each accusation, arms wrapping around herself like armor. Behind us, I heard Lark approaching again.

“Lachlan, you need to calm down,” Lark said firmly. “Whatever’s going on?—”

“She betrayed us all.” I didn’t take my eyes off Piper. “Every single person trying to protect this town, trying to keep drugs away from kids, trying to stop weapons trafficking—she sold us out. Everything Pawsitive Connections stands against, she was trying to help.”

“There’s something you don’t know,” Piper said, her voice stronger now but still thread-thin. “Please, if you’d just listen?—”

“Listen? Like I listened when you cried in my arms about being scared? Like I listened when you said you were trying to build a better life for our son?” The wordourtasted bitter now. “Every word out of your mouth has been a lie.”

“Not everything.” Tears streamed down her face, but she held my gaze. “Not how I feel about?—”

“Don’t.” The word cracked like a whip. “Don’t you dare stand there and pretend anything between us was real.”

Piper wisely didn’t try to dispute me.

I turned to Lark. “I’m taking her home. We need to talk. I won’t hurt her. But this ends today.”

She looked between us, clearly torn. Finally, she nodded. “Piper, do you feel safe going with him?”

The question sent fresh rage through me. As if I was the threat here. As if I was the one who’d lied and manipulated and?—

“Yes,” Piper whispered. “It’s okay.”

I grabbed Caleb in his car carrier, and we walked to my truck in tense silence. I held the passenger door open, not out of courtesy but because I didn’t trust her not to run. She climbed in slowly, movements careful like everything hurt.

I started the engine and pulled out of the parking lot, gravel crunching under the tires.

“Want to see what I’m not wearing?” I held up my bare wrist, then tossed the printed pages into her lap. “Travis found out it was a transmitter. Didn’t take long for me to put the pieces together from there.”

Fresh tears tracked down her cheeks as she stared down at her hands, but she didn’t speak.

I didn’t speak either. Didn’t trust myself to. The rage was too close to the surface, mixed with a betrayal so deep it felt like drowning. Every instinct screamed at me to pull over, to demand answers, to make her explain how she could have done this to me. To us. To our son.

But I kept driving.

Ten minutes stretched like hours. Piper’s breathing grew more ragged, hitching on suppressed sobs. Her hands clutched the papers like a lifeline, knuckles white with tension.

When we finally pulled into my driveway, I cut the engine and sat there for a moment. Home. The place where she’d cooked dinner every night, where we’d bathed Caleb together, where we’d made love in the shower just this morning. All of it tainted now.

“Inside,” I said, the first word I’d spoken since leaving Pawsitive.

She grabbed Caleb’s carrier, and I took it from her and carried him inside. The familiar scent of home—coffee and baby powder and something that was uniquely Piper—hit me like a slap.

I took him out of the carrier and laid him carefully in his crib, shutting the door behind me as I left. I found Piper in the living room. She stood in the middle of the space, looking lost, like she didn’t belong here anymore.

“Were you ever going to tell me?” My voice came out rough, barely controlled. “Or was the plan to just keep bleeding intelligence until we were all compromised? Until someone got killed?”

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