Bradford's Orders Book Two The Legacy Series

Chapter 29

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Chapter 29

Bradford

The first thing I saw wasn't the house.

It was her.
Emma.

Standing tall in the doorway with a shotgun at her side like she'd been holding the line for a hundred years and dared the world to test her again.

Blake stopped just short of her, soaked from the hike, face shadowed by exhaustion but steady as hell. His shoulders didn't sag. His spine didn't bend. That man had walked through fire and death and grief so many times, it was stitched into the set of his jaw.

But the second his eyes landed on her, he softened.

Not all the way. Just enough.
Emma picked up the shotgun and stepped into the open.

"What do you plan on doing with my Ma's shotgun, Em?" Blake asked, calm as ever, like he already knew the answer would sting and loved her more for it.

Her chin lifted. "That depends. Where's the son of a bitch who destroyed our home?"

His answer was simple. Final.
"Gone," he said. "The sea took what was left of him."

She didn't flinch. Just walked straight to him, handed off the weight of the weapon, and laid her heart right in his hands like she'd done a thousand times before.

There was nothing flashy about it. No dramatic reunion. No tears or theatrics.

Just... truth.

Timeless.

I'd heard the stories. All of us had. About how Blake had stepped into the family legacy long before he should've had to. About how Adam, the older brother, was bitter to the bone about it. About how Blake didn't care about the title or the pride, just the people. About how he chose Emma, not for status, but because she was the only one who saw all of him.

They helped built this family, who we are and what we stand for.

They lost a brother. A father. And so much more.

But never each other.

That was the difference.
That was the foundation.

They didn't survive despite what happened. They survived through it. Together.

Blake wrapped his arms around her like he always did, like it was instinct, not decision. Like the world could end behind him and he'd still come home to this.
Emma stepped into him without hesitation.

He kissed her forehead, then rested his own against it. "You okay?"

"Now I am," she murmured.
And that was it. That was all it took.

I stood just outside the door, soaked and scraped up, watching them like a kid again, like I was seeing the blueprint for the first time. The storm still rumbled in the distance, lightning flickering against the horizon. But the rain had stopped.

A faint breeze stirred through the trees, carrying with it the scent of clean earth and wet stone, fresh rain. That smell always reminded me of something new. A beginning. Something honest.

And through the far windows of the pool house, just over the jagged rocks at the bluff's edge, the first light of morning was cresting.

Soft golden rays spilled into the room, cutting through the shadows, illuminating dust in the air and beyond it, out past the broken fence line, the charred remains of the main house.

Point Conception.
The family mansion.
Or what was left of it.

Ash and ruin just steps away from where we stood now. But in the light, it didn't look like failure.