Edge of Defiance (Edge of Collapse, #5)

by Kyla Stone

Liam clenched his jaw. Anger pulsed through him in waves. Revulsion churned in his gut. He felt dirty just being near these animals.

“Put the gun down, Sutter,” Noah said. “You have no quarrel with Liam Coleman.” “Like hell,” Sutter growled. “You have no idea what you’re talking about. I’ve got two missing soldiers. This joker has something to do with that.” “We’re on the same side!” Noah said. Sutter snorted. “I’m still chief of police. It’s your duty to obey me.” Sutter’s eyes flashed with hostility, but he hesitated. He wasn’t the type of man to allow an insult to go unavenged, but he wasn’t an idiot.

“Lower your weapons. Now,” Noah said. “I speak for Rosamond.” Sutter sneered, but he obeyed. His men followed suit. “Don’t be so sure about that.”

Bishop whirled on Noah, brows lowered, visibly upset. “You just let him kill three people. What’s wrong with you?” Noah bristled. “They were enemy combatants. They attacked us. They deserved it.” “Are you sure? Do you know who they are or why they came?” “It doesn’t matter.” “Of course it does! Who’s in charge, you or Sutter?” Noah’s expression clouded. “We’re done here.” “What’s the price of a good cop these days?”

There was something empty in his eyes. Something that chilled Liam to his core. What did it cost a man to go against his principles, everything he’d sworn an oath to, to serve and protect?

maybe the seeds were always present, planted deep, waiting to sprout into something poisonous.

But Noah was beyond reach. His hard gaze shifted to Liam. Something sparked there. Something dark and ugly. “You don’t know me. You don’t know anything.”

Rosamond was a careful, precise woman. Nothing was ever said or done carelessly. Every gesture and mood was calibrated, every detail deliberately chosen.

She’d avoided mirrors for days. She didn’t want to see the new wrinkles lining her face. She didn’t want to see her hollowed cheeks or the shadows marring her bloodshot eyes. The grief threatened to well up again—great sweeping waves that pulled her under, sucking her into a despair that she feared would destroy her.

He’d always been moody. Gavin was the smart one, the one who understood her. Her boys had been blessed. They hadn’t been raised like she had. She’d made sure of it.

Her father had been a brutal, domineering man.

She’d cut him out of her life, no longer acknowledging him or having anything to do with him—though she’d kept the gifts he’d continued to send.

Rosamond had escaped him at eighteen, falling into the arms of Calvin Pike, Gavin Pike’s father. Handsome and charming, jealous and cruel. Life with Cal served as a lesson in pain. He used more than his fists. After Gavin was born, it only intensified.

One day, she looked in the mirror at another bruised throat she’d needed to hide with makeup and scarves, and she made a choice. That night, she fought back with a knife. After his death, she’d vowed never to allow anyone to control her again. Rosamond would do the controlling.

Killing was easier than most people thought. People disappeared all the time. Only fifty percent of murderers were ever apprehended. If you were smart about it, if you didn’t lose your head, if you were judicious, prudent, and meticulous in how and who you killed…you could get away with it.

She was smart and clever and cunning. She used people’s emotions to manipulate them, just as her father had once done to her.

Love was a weapon. Wielded properly, it could get you almost anything you wanted.

Her opponents and enemies could be blackmailed or threatened out of the way, compliments of her sons.

It was all gone now. Burned to ashes. Stabbed and shot to death with Gavin. Drowned with Julian. Murdered, both of them. Her future murdered with them.

“Why the hell are we wasting so many men and resources on that damn town? Fall Creek means nothing. The people mean nothing. They’re expendable. It’s time to expend them.”

Rosamond didn’t let go of anything, not once it was in her grasp.

“I’m in charge of this town and its well-being. It is my job. I’m like a parent. I know what’s best for them, even when they don’t know it themselves. And like a parent, I care about them.”

“You know that most of them hate you, right?”

Sutter should not underestimate her. He had no idea what she was capable of, what she’d done, and what she was willing to do. “Don’t disappoint me,” she said. “You do not want to disappoint me.”

Milo grinned as he tugged on Charlotte’s little knit gray and green hat, pulling it gently over her ears. He was so careful with her. It warmed Hannah’s heart to watch them together.

Milo had become more interested in his new sister. He relished the role of protective big brother. He trusted easily, loved easily.

She appreciated his zeal—and his unerring belief that she could do whatever she put her mind to, deformed hand or not.

“Maybe you deserve it!” Milo chimed in.

“We’re taking a walk. We’re going to keep walking now. We’d appreciate it if you mind your own business.” “Everyone’s business is our business.”

“Don’t you dare hurt my dog!” Milo shouted. “Don’t you dare!”

“That thing’s a menace! I’m putting it down!” A door slammed. An old man in his seventies shuffled down his front steps. Further down the road, a couple opened their door and peered out. The mothers on the porch rose to their feet, their children all watching the altercation in the street, mouths gaping. “Hey!” the old man yelled. “What’s going on?” “Leave that dog alone!” a mother shouted. The little kids in the yard started crying. The loud voices drew two of the militiamen on the corner—one a tall man, the other a short, squat woman.

Like, sir, why did you decide to pick a fight for no reason?! Just ignant.

Ghost balked, reluctant to flee from a threat.

Should've bit a chunk out of him. Maybe that'd knocked him down a peg.

Vik was a bully who liked to throw his weight around, who enjoyed wielding power over anyone he deemed weaker, smaller, or “less” than himself.

No more walks in Winter Haven. Noah insisted this was the safest place for them. It wasn’t.

The militia were a poison. They were destroying Fall Creek. They had to be dealt with. Not just dealt with—ended.

“Dad says that Nana Sinclair is like my grandma.” Milo chewed his lower lip. “It doesn’t feel that way anymore. When we baked cookies, I didn’t like it. My stomach hurt. It felt…weird.”

“If Mrs. Sinclair invites you to her house again or anything else, what should you say?” “I’ll yell ‘No way!’ and come running to you.” She smiled tightly. “Good answer.”

As long as she could take everyone she loved with her, she would leave this place in a heartbeat.

Sutter had told him they were just a group of hungry folks from nearby towns who’d banded together. Noah had believed him. A tendril of doubt snaked through his mind. The room was too warm; beads of sweat broke out on his forehead.

His hands clenched into fists at his sides, trembling with anger. Beneath the anger lay a vast and bottomless pit of fear. “Of course not! I had nothing to do with it!”

He glared at Noah like he wanted to take a significant bite out of him. No doubt the dog would tear out his Adam’s Apple if given the chance.

He hated the solid wall between them; it felt impenetrable. He’d do anything to break it down. But he was helpless against her anger and doubt—and just as helpless against his own.

“I’ll confront Sutter and Rosamond. I’ll find out the truth.”

“We already know th...

“I’ll fix it,” he said. “I can fix this.” He meant more than the militia and Rosamond—he meant him and Hannah. He meant all of Fall Creek.

“I think it’s too late for that.”

Sure is. No one trusts you Noah.

Sutter retreated to stand beside Rosamond’s desk. The move wasn’t subtle. He was demonstrating his influence and dominance over Noah. He was attempting to rile him, to provoke him. It was working.

You knew. Of course you knew, a voice whispered inside his head. A voice he hated.

How much easier it had been to not ask. To accept the bounty without questioning where it came from, without examining the evidence in front of his eyes. Until now.

Noah raised his eyes to Rosamond. He wanted to believe that she was innocent in this, that she would never condone it. Sutter was running the deal; she had been forced to fall into line, just like Noah. They were both submitting against their will. They had no choice.

Still stupid.