Kings of Decay (The Winston Brothers Duet #1)

26. Willow

Chapter twenty-six

Willow

T he next day, I went straight to Rose's house.

It was a small A-frame cabin on the other side of town. She had tall flowerbeds that were probably pretty in the short summer but now were nothing but dirt and dead leaves. A clothesline hung outside with half-frozen bedsheets fluttering in the wind. The house had a rustic charm, evident by the worn wooden porch and window sills decorated with a variety of flowers and herbs where they had the warmth to grow.

I knocked on the door, waiting patiently for an answer.

There was no response.

I noticed a thin swirl of smoke rising from the chimney. She had to be home. No one would leave their fire going.

Rose appeared, walking around to the porch with an armful of firewood.

I let out a tiny gasp and startled her.

"Ah!" The wood fell out of her arms with a crash. "Oh, it's you, Willow."

"I'm so sorry!" I bent down to help her with the firewood.

"Let me help you with that. I didn't mean to startle you."

She smiled, accepting my assistance. "It's quite alright. These old ears don't hear as well as they used to." Once the wood was stacked, she gestured for me to follow her inside.

The cabin was cozy and warm, filled with an array of trinkets and souvenirs, each story revealed in its soft glow. As she poured hot water into a waiting teapot, I glanced around curiously, drinking in the details of her life.

Her three-legged basset hound, Scout, lay sprawled on the cold floor, sleepily flipping his ears back at me as I entered. Buddy's missing leg hadn't seemed to slow him down much, but he was still lazy.

"Rose, I don't mean to intrude. I just need information."

Rose held up a hand to silence me. She didn't say a word until she'd made the tea. She set everything out on the table and motioned for me to sit.

Not knowing what else to do, I obeyed. Her wooden chairs had quilted covers. Almost every soft surface in this place was quilted or knitted.

Rose poured the tea. "I know what you came to ask," she said. "But I want to warn you that poking around will just lead to problems." Rose's voice was sharp, but there was genuine concern in her tone, her piercing blue eyes momentarily locking onto mine.

"What kind of problems?" I asked, taking a tentative sip of the tea Rose had just poured me, the hot liquid soothing my throat.

Rose sighed, her shoulders slumping. "Don't play dumb. I'm sure you know exactly what sort of problems come with that family."

"The Winstons."

Rose nodded. "They, well, their father, rules this town, the mines, and everyone in it."

I looked down at my reflection in the teacup.

"You've gotten tangled with them, haven't you?" Rose's voice was barely a whisper.

A lump grew in my throat, and hot tears prickled my eyes. "I," I let out a shuddering gasp. "I... yes." My voice cracked as I continued, "I don't even know why they spared me."

Rose leaned across the table, her eyes wide with concern. "Willow, honey, you must be careful. Those brothers are dangerous and unpredictable. They've hurt a lot of people and buried their secrets deep." She took a moment, studying me carefully before continuing. "I know more than I should, but I can't tell you everything, not now."

I leaned forward, my anxiety growing. "Rose, please. I need to know," I said, feeling desperation grip me like cold chains.

Rose looked at me with a grave expression. "I can only tell you what I've heard. But I swear on my grandmother's grave, all of it points to a dark secret surrounding the Winstons."

I leaned forward, my fingers gripped tightly around my teacup as I waited for her to continue.

"The Winstons are hiding something big," Rose continued. "Their father has his hands in all the pots. The politicians, the mine, the investors, everything."

"Your typical psychotic old rich white man," I said bitterly.

"Yes, but... his sons do his bidding. They kill for him, and they kill for pleasure," she paused. "And sometimes they kill for us when the law forgets about this little town."

I looked at her. "So people keep quiet because otherwise, they'll lose their own enforcers too?"

"Among other things," Rose sipped her tea. "Fear is a powerful motivator. And people know better than to shit where they eat," she added.

I blinked. She didn't seem like the sort of old lady to talk like that, but she had a point. People were afraid, but they weren't stupid.

"Their father was the Mayor for as long as most of us can remember," Rose continued. "He's not ready to give up that power. He's the puppet master of Grayling Pass. He'll never give in."

I forced down another sip of tea. It was already getting cold.

"If you want to survive the storm, just keep to yourself and pray they get bored with you. Tell your father the same. Both of you need to keep your heads down and stay out of trouble."

"The storm?" I ask.

"By December, all of the roads will be closed. No one will be able to get in or out until Spring," Rose said, an edge to her voice. "Supplies will come by air, but it's always unpredictable. That's when people get on edge. That's when the Winston Brothers will really show their teeth, and the snow will be stained red with death."