Chapter 1: A Grudge Born in Whiskey

The young man from the Louisiana bayou was known for his skills in hoodoo and poison—hoodoo, the kind of magic folks only whisper about—and my big brother always told me to steer clear of him.

Folks down in Pine Hollow have a whole mess of stories about the bayou and the people who come from there—tales that’ll make your skin crawl and your hair stand on end. No joke. Big brother used to say, “You tangle with those folks, you’re asking for trouble.” But honestly, I always figured trouble had my address anyway.

But in my very first year off the mountain, I blew up Carter Vance’s strange little critters—his hoodoo bugs—and washed them down with my whiskey.

I’ll never forget the way those bugs exploded—like fireworks made for nightmares. The whole bar reeked of burnt sugar and something rotten. Seriously, I almost lost my lunch. I thought it was just another Saturday night, honestly.

I was digging in, drinking up, not a care in the world at that roadside bar, when I noticed a young man with a face like he’d been carved from a freezer staring right at me.

He had that look—like he’d already measured my coffin. Gave me the creeps, but hey, the whiskey kept me brave. The place was half-empty, ceiling fans spinning slow, and his eyes never left me. Made my skin itch.

With the whiskey buzzing in my brain, I raised my glass and toasted him from across the room.

I probably grinned a little too wide, sloshing my drink. “Cheers, stranger!” My nerves were jangling, but I figured if I acted bold, maybe I could fool myself too.

“Hey, buddy, want to grab a bite?” I called out, trying to sound casual, like I did this all the time.

I probably sounded way too friendly. Didn’t care, though. Bar lights flickered, music low, and I figured—what’s the worst that could happen?

And that, my friend, is how I ended up being chased halfway across the country.

Not the best decision I’ve ever made. But honestly, it wasn’t the worst either—at least it made for a hell of a story.

A deep grudge was born right then and there.

You ever see a man’s eyes go flat and cold, like a gator’s before it snaps? That’s how it started. Once a bayou boy’s got a grudge, you better run. It sticks like swamp mud.

I went through all sorts of trouble, fleeing back to Pine Hollow Mountain in a panic, and I burst in and blurted out the whole mess to my big brother.

I busted through the front door. Boots caked in red clay. Heart pounding so loud I could hear it in my ears. Big brother looked up from his chores, eyes wide as dinner plates.

Noah Bishop was pouring bourbon when he saw me return, dusty and covered in blood. His jaw dropped, bourbon halfway to his lips.

The whiskey barrel tipped over and crashed to the ground, spilling amber liquid that soaked into the dirt. The smell hit me—rich, sharp, familiar. I took a deep breath.

The smell of bourbon always made me feel safe—like Dad was still around, watching over us. But seeing Noah’s face, I knew I’d brought something bad home. Real bad.

Noah rubbed his temples and groaned. “I never should’ve let you go out in the first place.”

His voice cracked, and for a second, I saw the scared kid he used to be. He looked at me like I’d dragged the devil up the mountain. Maybe I had.

He barked, “Don’t!” before I could say a word.

I picked up the barrel. Shook it. Less than half left.

A waste of good bourbon.

I poured myself a big mug. Gulped it all down. Then sat to catch my breath.

The whiskey burned all the way down, but it settled my nerves. I wiped my mouth and tried to act casual, but my hands wouldn’t stop shaking.

“How was I supposed to know those bugs were his? Not like ignorance is a crime.”

I grumbled, still feeling wronged.

I tried to sound innocent, but my voice wobbled. Noah just stared at me, jaw clenched. Like he was waiting for the sky to fall.

“Jolene, do you even know who Carter Vance is?” The way he said the name made my stomach clench.

I shrugged, like it was no big deal, trying to play it off.

“Somebody from Blackwater Lodge. Big deal.”

I was getting ready to go back to my room and sleep for three days straight. My legs felt like jelly, and I just wanted to collapse.

The thought of my lumpy mattress and a locked door sounded like paradise. I let out a long, tired sigh. I could almost taste the sleep, heavy and dreamless.

“Big brother was right, you really shouldn’t provoke boys from the bayou—they’re petty and hold grudges. Hearts smaller than a sewing needle.”

He shook his head, muttering like he was talking to himself. I rolled my eyes, but deep down, I knew he was right.

“He’s the heir to Blackwater Lodge.”

Noah sighed, like he’d had enough.

His shoulders slumped. He poured himself a drink, hands trembling so bad the bourbon almost sloshed out.

“Oh. Oh, hell.”

The mug in my hand clanged onto the stone table. The sound echoed. My heart dropped.

“So… if I managed to escape from him, doesn’t that mean my skills aren’t too bad?” I looked at my big brother, forcing a smile.

I tried to be brave, but my voice was thin. I wanted him to say I did good, that I was safe now. But the words hung in the air, unanswered.

But Noah’s mouth twisted like he’d bitten a lemon. He looked at me the way a preacher looks at a lost soul.

“Jolene, there are only two of us left on Pine Hollow Mountain.” He paused, letting it sink in.

“Huh? I didn’t get it.” I blinked, waiting for the punchline.

“If Blackwater Lodge ever comes up here, Dad’s legacy will be wiped out. Gone, just like that.”

I stared at him, eyes wide. The weight of his words settled on my shoulders.

The weight of his words settled on my shoulders, heavy as a thunderstorm. I felt small, suddenly—like a kid again.

“For heaven’s sake, please, just go! Give Pine Hollow Mountain a chance to survive!” His voice cracked with desperation.

“Otherwise, Dad won’t rest in peace!”

Noah’s voice broke at the end. The words stung more than I expected. I pouted.

Tsk, I really didn’t expect that on my first day back to Pine Hollow after escaping, my timid big brother would be trying to kick me out. Life’s just full of surprises, huh?

Can’t really blame him; he was kidnapped by traffickers as a kid. Nearly sold to a brothel. Dad saved him. Since then, he’s been terrified of the outside world. Never leaves unless he has to. Like a hermit in his shell.

He never talked about it, but sometimes I’d catch him staring out the window, eyes distant, fingers drumming a nervous rhythm on the table. I always felt for him—he was more comfortable with trees and birds than people.

Now, with this grudge between me and Carter Vance, Pine Hollow’s survival is at stake. Great. Just what we needed.

I chewed my lip, thinking of the stories folks told about Blackwater Lodge—how their poison ran thicker than blood, or so they said.

Blackwater Lodge is the biggest group in the Louisiana bayou. Folks say they’re ruthless and vengeful, always using poison. Real tough to deal with. Never let a slight go unpunished. That’s the kind of trouble that sticks.

And their heir leads the younger generation, skilled in fighting and a master of hoodoo. Just my luck.

Ah, what should I do?

There’s one thing I don’t dare tell my big brother. I’m afraid he’d faint from shock. Might even drop his bourbon.

I stripped Carter Vance of his clothes and kicked him into the river.

Two years later, give or take—that was the second year after I ate Carter Vance’s bugs and ran for my life.

I passed a bar, the owner’s whiskey so fragrant it drifted for miles. The smell alone was enough to make me forget my troubles. For me, that was irresistible.

If life has no good whiskey, what’s the point of fearing death?

I sat by the window, watching the river rush by, autumn water stretching into the endless sky. The view was magnificent. If only I had a handsome guy by my side and no worldly worries—this would be heaven on earth. Sometimes I get wistful like that, especially after a drink.

The breeze off the river was cool, and I let my boots rest on the windowsill, letting the world fade away for a moment. The whiskey warmed me from the inside out, and I almost forgot my troubles.

Suddenly, a guy in black dropped into the seat across from me. He wore a mask, tall and straight, broad-shouldered and slim-waisted. Easy on the eyes.

He slid into the seat like he owned the place, the mask glinting in the lamplight. My heart skipped a beat—part curiosity, part warning. My fingers twitched on my glass.

I stared at him, sizing him up from head to toe, totally shameless. Couldn’t help myself. I mean, who just walks in like that?

“Ma’am, you done staring yet?” he said. I rolled my eyes at the sass, but inside, my stomach dropped.

That voice was so familiar. My stomach dropped.