Chapter 7 - The Guardians of the Ridge
Grier stumbled back, his pistol flying from his hand as a bullet tore through his shoulder. He gasped, clutching his bleeding arm, his face contorting in agony.
From the dark woods surrounding the cabin, several figures emerged. They weren't police officers in uniform. They were local mountain men and women, dressed in worn hunting jackets and work clothes, carrying shotguns and hunting rifles.
At their head was a tall, burly man with a thick grey beard and eyes like flint.
"You should have stayed in Richmond, Grier," the man said, keeping his double-barreled shotgun aimed directly at Grier's head. "We don't like your kind up here on the ridge. We didn't forget what you did to the MacAlisters."
"Who... who are you?" Grier hissed, sweating profusely as he pressed his hand against his bleeding shoulder.
"I'm Caleb MacAlister," the bearded man said. "The nephew of the people you burned out of their home thirty years ago. And we’ve been keeping an eye on Evelyn ever since she came back to these hills. She’s one of us now. You don't touch her."
Two younger men stepped forward, quickly securing Grier’s hands behind his back with heavy zip-ties. They picked up his fallen pistol and pocketed it.
Ethan looked at his mother, stunned. "You... you weren't alone?"
"No, Ethan," Evelyn said, a gentle smile returning to her face. "The people of this mountain are poor, but they are decent. They took me in when I was starving and half-mad. They helped me heal. And they helped me watch your father's company, waiting for the day we could bring it all down."
Caleb MacAlister looked at Ethan, then at Vanessa, who was shrinking back against the cabin wall, her face white with terror.
"What do you want us to do with them, Evelyn?" Caleb asked. "We can make this trash disappear in the deep woods. Nobody would ever find them."
"No," Evelyn said firmly. "We are not like Richard Vance. We don't use the dark. We are going to bring everything into the light."
She looked at Ethan. "It’s time to make a choice, son. Are you a Vance? Or are you my boy?"
May you like
Ethan looked at his wife, who was staring at him with pleading, terrified eyes. Then he looked at his mother, who had suffered a lifetime of horror just to keep him safe.
"I am your boy," Ethan said, his voice ringing clear and strong. "Let’s call the feds."
