Chapter 78

Chapter 78
Nathan had rehearsed the conversation a thousand times in his head, but when the moment came, no script could contain the storm boiling inside him.

The sheriff’s temporary home stood at the edge of Hollow Creek, a rented cabin half-swallowed by pine trees, its porch light sputtering against the dark. Nathan parked down the road, killing the headlights, and walked the last stretch on foot. His fists clenched and unclenched at his sides. He could almost hear his brother’s voice on the old tapes, broken, pleading.

He knocked once.

Sheriff Grady opened the door in his undershirt, a tumbler of whiskey in his hand. His eyes narrowed when he saw Nathan, but instead of surprise or fear, there was only weariness laced with disdain.

“You got a death wish, lawyer?” Grady muttered.

Nathan shoved past him into the cabin. The place reeked of stale liquor and smoke, papers scattered across the counter, half-burned logs spitting weak light in the fireplace.

“I’m done circling,” Nathan said, his voice low, controlled. “You’re going to tell me what happened to my brother.”

Grady took a slow sip from his glass, leaned against the counter, and smirked. “Your brother was sick. I told you before. Couldn’t handle the heat.”

“That’s a lie.” Nathan’s chest heaved. “I’ve seen the tapes. I’ve read the notes. He wasn’t sick—he was hunted.”

Grady’s smirk twisted into something darker. He set the glass down with a deliberate clink. “You think you’ve uncovered something new, don’t you? Some grand conspiracy.” He leaned closer, his breath heavy with whiskey. “Your brother begged me to save him.”

The words hit Nathan like a blow. He froze, pulse roaring in his ears.

Grady chuckled at his silence. “Yeah. He came to me. Said they were after him, said he had proof. Wanted me to protect him. But you know what I told him? I told him no. Because he was weak. And weak men don’t survive in Hollow Creek.”

Nathan’s hands curled into fists. His vision tunneled, every nerve in his body screaming to strike. But Grady wasn’t finished.

“You want the truth?” the sheriff growled. “Your brother wasn’t some hero. He was a coward. He begged, Nathan. Begged me like a dog. And when I didn’t bite, he broke. He put the fire to himself. Saved me the trouble.”

Nathan lunged. His fist crashed into Grady’s jaw with a crack that echoed off the cabin walls. The sheriff staggered back, clutching his face, then spat blood onto the floor.

“You son of a bitch,” Nathan hissed. “You let him die.”

Grady straightened, wiping his mouth, his expression shifting from mockery to cold fury. “You don’t get it, do you? This town has always belonged to the fire. Always. Men like your brother—men like you—you think you can fight it, but you’re nothing but fuel. That’s all you’ll ever be.”

Nathan grabbed him by the collar, slamming him against the wall hard enough to rattle the picture frames. “Tell me what they’re planning. Tell me what happens at the solstice.”

For the first time, Nathan saw a flicker of fear in Grady’s eyes. It was small, quickly smothered, but it was there.

“You think you’re scaring me?” Grady spat. “You’re already too late. The fire’s been burning longer than you’ve been alive. It’ll burn long after you’re gone.”

Nathan tightened his grip, rage searing his veins. “If you had any hand in my brother’s death, I swear to God—”

Grady shoved him off with surprising strength, staggering toward the counter where his service revolver sat. His hand closed around the grip.

Nathan froze, his own breath heavy in the charged silence. For a long moment, neither man moved. The flames in the hearth popped and hissed, filling the air with smoke.

Finally, Grady lowered the gun—not out of mercy, but out of disdain. He dropped back into his chair, nursing his bleeding jaw, and muttered, “Get out of my house before I change my mind.”

Nathan stood there a moment longer, chest heaving, fists trembling. He wanted to finish it, wanted to put Grady down then and there. But he forced himself to turn, to leave, the weight of his brother’s ghost pressing on his shoulders.

Outside, the night was colder than before. Nathan walked back to his car, every step heavier than the last. He had come for answers, and he’d gotten them—but they were poisoned, jagged, cutting deeper than he could stand.

His brother had begged for help. And Grady had turned his back.

Nathan gripped the steering wheel so tight his knuckles whitened. This wasn’t justice anymore. This was war.

And Hollow Creek had just chosen its enemy.