(Rook)
I drove back to the house with the window down.
Needed the air. Needed to think.
We had Harlow Dalton. Alive. Secured. Hand broken but that wasn't my problem. She was breathing and she was locked in and that was all that mattered right now.
The next part was the letter.
I'd been thinking about it for days. What to say. How to say it. How to make Ridge understand that this wasn't a bluff. That I wasn't some amateur who'd fold the second he pushed back.
Ridge Dalton didn't respond to half measures. I knew that much from everything Kane had told me and everything I'd learned watching his operation from a distance. He responded to certainty. To proof. To someone who meant exactly what they said.
So the letter had to be clear. No room for misunderstanding. No room for him to think
