Page 82 of Beautiful Exile

It was only then that Arden’s shoulders began to shake. She made no noise as the sobs broke free, but the force of them racked her whole body.

And I wanted to kill whoever had done this.

“Linc,” Trace growled.

“She wants to stay with the horses,” I said quietly.

“Of course, she does,” Trace muttered as a door slammed, then sirens flared to life. “Don’t leave her.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” The call disconnected, and I followed Arden into the pasture. But I didn’t move into her huddle. I knew the creatures she was with now gave her something I couldn’t. Theonly thing I could do was stand guard, making sure no harm came to any of them.

I scanned the forest and the buildings in an irregular pattern, over and over until Arden finally broke away from her horses. She was facing away from me, but I still saw her putting the armor back on. Her spine straightened, her shoulders squared, and she breathed deeply. Then, she turned.

Arden’s eyes were red and a little glassy, but those were the only signs of her tears as sirens sounded in the distance. She crossed to me, a hardness settling into those gray-violet eyes, the gray taking over now. “If you tell anyone I cried, I’ll put ex-lax in your coffee.”

I wanted to smile but couldn’t quite get there. “Noted. Now, come here.”

Arden shook her head, wisps of deep brown hair falling free of her haphazard bun.

“Vicious,” I warned.

She came then, stopping when we were toe-to-toe. I stared at her for one beat, two. Then I pulled her to me. She nuzzled in, letting me hold her, giving me what I needed: to know she was okay. Or at least that she would be.

The sirens grew louder, and a parade of sheriff’s department vehicles kicked up dust. The horses whinnied and shied away from the sound, put on edge by the intrusion. I kept hold of Arden as most stopped at the workshop and guesthouse. One squad car and an SUV came toward the barn.

Trace was out of the vehicle in a flash, striding toward us with a fury I’d never seen before on his face. “Is she okay?” he barked.

Arden pulled back. “I’m fine, but my horses won’t be if your deputies don’t cut their sirens.”

Trace sent something over the radio. Slowly but surely, all the sirens silenced.

Arden let out a long breath. “Thank you.”

Trace ducked between the fence rails and moved to his sister, giving her a quick hug. “You sure you’re all right?”

“Better now. Finding my mad.”

One corner of Trace’s mouth kicked up. “You always did do better when you found your mad.”

Her lips twitched. “I find out who did this; they’re likely to lose a ball.”

“Just one?” I asked, a hint of humor finally bleeding into my voice.

“I’m not a monster,” Arden said, brushing hair from her face.

Someone in uniform jogged toward us from the workshop. Trace’s gaze tracked them instantly. The deputy, who looked a few years younger than Trace, slowed, his tan complexion a little sallow as unease slid over his features. “It’s bad, boss.”

“Talk to me,” Trace ordered.

The deputy’s gaze flicked to Arden and then back to Trace. “Never seen anyone that mad. It’s like he was slaughtering her studio.”

So, what did that say about what he wanted to do to Arden?

30

ARDEN

There were people everywhere.And my house wasn’t exactly equipped for lots of company. I was starting to realize that maybe I’d done that by design.

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