Chapter 9
Chapter 9 - THE RECKONINGThe chase led them to the edge of the ridge, where the old ranger cabin sat overlooking the deep valley below. The snow was falling heavily now, covering the ground in a thick white blanket.Arthur, now entirely alone after Miller had been lured away and neutralized by Jaxson in the thicket, stumbled toward the cabin. He saw a faint light flickering through the wooden window.
"Iris," Arthur whispered, a sick smile spreading across his face.
He kicked the wooden door open, his silver revolver raised.
Sitting in the corner of the cabin, huddled under a wool blanket near a small lanterns, was Wren. She looked up at him, her face pale in the dim light, but her eyes were entirely calm.
"You really thought you could run from me, Iris?" Arthur sneered, stepping into the cabin, his boots dripping melting snow onto the wooden floor. "You thought you could live in a dirt cabin with a mountain hick? Look at you. You look like a peasant."
"My name is Wren," she said, her voice steady and clear over the sound of the wind. "And I am no longer afraid of you, Arthur."
"You should be!" Arthur roared, raising the gun. "I made you! I own you! You are going to come back to Chicago with me, and you are going to spend the rest of your life locked in that penthouse, paying for what you did to me!"
"She’s not going anywhere with you, Montgomery," a deep voice boomed from the doorway.
Arthur spun around, raising his gun toward Jaxson, who stood in the frame, his rifle aimed directly at Arthur’s chest.
"Put the gun down, city boy," Jaxson said, his voice like ice. "The sheriff’s deputies are already at the bottom of the ridge. Your men are captured. It’s over."
"Never!" Arthur screamed, his finger tightening on the trigger.
Before he could fire, Wren lunged from the corner. She didn't use the tire iron. She threw the three sharp, golden Kintsugi shards she had kept in her pocket directly at Arthur’s face.
The sharp ceramic shards sliced across Arthur’s cheek, the gold lacquer cutting into his skin. Arthur screamed in pain and distraction, his gun firing harmlessly into the wooden ceiling.
Jaxson closed the distance instantly. He tackled Arthur to the floor, pinning him down and twisting his arm until the silver revolver clattered away. Jaxson clicked a pair of heavy zip-ties around Arthur's wrists, securing him tightly.
Arthur lay on the floor, his face bleeding, staring up at Wren in utter defeat and disbelief. The golden scars on his cheek matched the ones of the bowl he had shattered in Chicago.
"You... you broke me..." Arthur whispered, his voice trembling with a sudden, deep-seated terror.
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Wren stood over him, looking down at her former abuser. She felt no anger, no hatred. She only felt a deep, profound pity for a man who could only find worth in controlling others.
"No, Arthur," Wren said softly, her hand reaching out to find Jaxson’s warm, solid grip. "I didn't break you. I just repaired myself. And I used gold."
