I pulled out my phone and dialed Mr. Voss’s number on speaker.

It rang once, twice, then connected.

“Maren,” Voss’s voice came through, tense and urgent.

“I’m on my way,” Voss said. “I’ve got the certified trust documents and the county sheriff with me.”

“They’re already digging, Mr. Voss,” I said, keeping my eyes locked on Dorian.

“We are passing the lower gate right now,” Voss said. “Hold them off. Do not let them move that marker.”

I ended the call and stood directly in front of the excavator’s metal bucket.

“You’ll have to dig through me,” I said.

Dorian took a step toward me, his face contorting with rage.

“You think you’re a soldier,” Dorian sneered. “You’re just a girl playing with her father’s toys.”

“My father built this family,” I said. “And you’re tearing it apart.”

“Your father was a shadow,” Dorian said. “He left nothing but debts and secrets.”

“That’s a lie,” I said.

In the distance, the faint sound of a siren began to echo through the mountain pass.

Headlights cut through the deepening twilight down the road, winding toward the cabin.