Chapter 5

Before Jude could slide the brass bolt open for his mother, heavy boots thundered up the stairs.

Jude pressed himself flat behind the massive wooden wardrobe, his hand clamped tight inside his pocket.

Garrett strode into the room, flanked by Orson and four armed men.

Tabitha followed close behind, breathless, one hand gripping the banister.

"The house monitors picked up a Voss signal coming straight from Mrs. Whitmore's room, Don Whitmore," Captain Lyle announced, sliding open the dressing room bolt.

Naomi walked out, her spine straight.

Lyle walked straight to her trunk, unzipping the side pocket to pull out the phone and the northern route ledger.

Orson picked up the signed divorce petition from the nightstand.

Orson opened the leather folder, his face grave. "These are our northern routes."

Lyle placed the divorce petition beside it. "She signed this three days ago. She was preparing to leave before dawn."

Orson looked at Garrett. "If these routes reached Voss, the council will call it treason."

Garrett looked at the phone, then at the divorce papers.

In his eyes, her demand to leave wasn't independence anymore—it was an escape plan.

"Is this why you wanted out, Naomi?" Garrett asked, stripped of all warmth. "You were selling us out?"

Naomi met his eyes. "I have never touched that phone. Your new captain planted it."

"I took an oath to protect this family!" Lyle snapped. "Why would I frame you?"

Garrett looked at her—the quiet wife he thought he knew—and saw a stranger who had tried to throw his ring away.

"Take her to the holding cell downstairs," Garrett commanded. "No one speaks to her until I figure out what else she gave them."

Two guards stepped forward, grabbing Naomi's arms.

"Garrett, no!" Mrs. Gable cried from the doorway, but Orson blocked her path.

Naomi didn't scream or fight. She kept her chin up, her eyes pinned on Garrett.

"You are locking away the only person who ever bled for you," she said softly. "And you will live to regret every second of this."

As they dragged her down toward the basement, Tabitha stepped beside Jude, resting her hands lightly on the boy's shoulders.

"Don't be scared, sweetie," Tabitha whispered. "Your mother made a bad choice. I'll look after you now."

Jude didn't cry. He didn't pull away.

He stood completely still, staring at the dark staircase where his mother had disappeared.

Slowly, inside his flannel pocket, his small hand squeezed around the dropped cufflink.

Tabitha's sweet smile faltered as her eyes dropped to the black stone peeking between his fingers. Captain Lyle's crest caught the light.

For one second, her breath hitched.

The boy had seen everything.