Trapped in an Iron Cage by His Outlaw Brother, an Ex-Con Tracker and His Wife Risk $2.5 Million in Underworld Gold and Their Lives through Explosive Hidden Traps and Paternity Betrayals
A long time later, I live alone. The desert is a distant, sun-baked memory. Here, high up in the Northern Rockies, the air is crisp, biting, and smells of pine and snow. My cabin is a tiny, timber-built affair, barely more than a shack, nestled against a backdrop of ancient, snow-dusted peaks.
The fire in the hearth crackles, throwing dancing shadows across the rough-hewn walls. Outside, the wind howls, a lonely song that has become familiar company.
I hunt for my food, fishing the icy streams, butchering wild game with practiced ease. My hands, once calloused from prison labor and the rigging of explosives, are now hardened by axe work and the harsh realities of survival in this unforgiving landscape.
Sometimes, I trace the rough lines of a faded photograph I keep hidden, tucked away deep in a worn leather pouch. It’s Maeve, smiling, her eyes bright, from a time that feels like another lifetime. I look at it, then quickly put it away. It’s a painful luxury I rarely allow myself.
I have no name here. No past. Only the present, a quiet, solitary existence. The nearest town is a two-day hike, a place I visit only for supplies, never lingering, never speaking more than necessary. I am a ghost, a myth, a man who ceased to exist for the world that once knew him.
I watch the cold horizon, the endless expanse of mountains and sky. I know Maeve is safe, living her new life, building the future we once dreamed of together. She is free of the syndicate, free of the shadow of Eli, free of me. That was the price. And it was a price I paid willingly.
She is forever lost to me. That is the cost of her freedom.
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