It was an alert from the security system I had installed at the mountain cabin the week before.

A motion sensor on the perimeter of the detached tool shed had been tripped.

My hands tightened on the steering wheel as I stared at the blinking red notification.

I knew exactly who was up there.

Dorian thought he could destroy whatever evidence remained in that cabin before I could get to it.

He thought he could burn my father’s legacy to the ground.

What he didn’t know was that I had already secured the perimeter, and every move he made was being recorded.

I started the engine, shifted into drive, and pressed down on the accelerator.

The SUV surged forward, leaving the quiet cul-de-sac behind as I headed toward the mountains.

The sky above the highway was a bruised purple, the dark peaks of the range rising up in the distance like jagged teeth.

My phone buzzed again on the passenger seat, the screen lighting up the dark interior of the cab.

I reached over and swiped the screen to open the live feed from the cabin cameras.