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by Ellis Carrington
The last face Marshal expected to see shackled to the interview-room table in Red Hollow’s sheriff station was hers. Five years, one catastrophic op, and a guilt he’d never outrun—and now Locked sits across from him under a stuttering fluorescent, furious, guarded, and holding the testimony that could bring the Hollow syndicate to its knees.
She doesn’t want his protection. She wants an apology he doesn’t know how to give. And she won’t say a word on record until he proves he’ll choose her life over his orders—the one thing he failed to do the night that shattered them both.
But the storm has closed the ridge road. The transport is dead. And the ancient backup generator is already coughing toward darkness, taking the cameras and the locks with it. Somewhere beyond the interview-room door, boots move through the hallway that shouldn’t be there. The Hollow syndicate isn’t waiting for dawn.
Did this story work for you?
Did this story work for you?
Inspired by Red Hollow
Choose the trope, heat, characters and ending. No creation experience needed.