Chapter 1

The air was thick, Texas summer thick, even after the sun went down.

Ethan Vance drove, the windows down on his truck, the Vance ranchland stretching out on either side, dark and familiar.

Tomorrow was the party, his engagement party to Isabella "Izzy" Hayes.

Big money, big families, big everything. That was the Vance way.

His phone buzzed. Izzy.

"Hey, almost there?" she asked, her voice a little too bright.

"Yeah, five minutes out. You sure about this spot? It's pretty remote."

"Liam said it's perfect for a surprise, something just for us before the chaos tomorrow. He's already there, setting it up."

Liam. His supposed brother. Eleanor' s golden boy.

Ethan didn't trust Liam, never had. But Izzy, he wanted to trust Izzy.

He pulled up to the old, rusted pump house, a relic from his grandfather's early days on the ranch.

No lights, no Liam, no Izzy.

Just the crickets and the smell of dust.

"Izzy?" he called out, stepping from the truck.

Then he saw them, shadows detaching from the deeper darkness around the pump house.

Three, maybe four men. Big.

"Izzy, this isn't funny," he said, his hand instinctively going to his belt, where no gun was. This was Vance land, supposed to be safe.

They didn't answer, just moved, fanning out.

A cold feeling washed over him. This wasn't a prank.

He turned to get back to the truck, but one was already there, blocking his door.

"What do you want?" Ethan asked, his voice hard.

The first punch caught him in the gut, doubling him over.

He fought back, years of rough work on oil rigs giving him strength, but they were too many.

A sharp, searing pain shot through his eyes, then another.

Darkness. Complete, absolute darkness.

He screamed, a sound swallowed by the vast night.

Then came the sickening crunches at his ankles. His Achilles.

They dragged him, his useless legs scraping against the dry earth.

He heard the creak of the pump house door, the metallic clang as it shut, the click of a heavy lock.

Then, nothing but the ringing in his ears and the scorching pain that was his new world.

He lay there, blind, crippled, the Texas sun already beginning to heat the metal walls of his prison.

Izzy. Liam. His mother, Eleanor.

This was their doing. He knew it, a cold certainty settling in his gut alongside the agony.