A Name From Another Life
No one at that table had spoken the name Colter in years.
Not aloud.
Not in public.
Not where anyone else could hear.
Colter Wren had been their brother in every way that mattered, though not by blood. He had ridden with them through storms, sat beside them through hard nights, and once made every man at that table believe no road was too long as long as they stayed together.
Then one winter, everything changed.
There had been confusion.
A broken promise.
A farewell no one truly understood.
And after that, only silence remained.
Each of them carried their own version of regret.
Rowan carried the heaviest.
He looked at the girl again.
“Who told you that name?”
The girl answered immediately.
“My daddy.”
Boone shoved his chair back.
“That is not possible.”
The girl turned toward him.
“He said you might say that.”
Those words struck something in the men.
Something quiet, yet deeply powerful.
Rowan’s jaw tightened. His fingers brushed over the tattoo without him realizing it.
“What is your name?”
“Lila.”
“Lila what?”
For the first time, the girl hesitated.
Then she said, “Lila Wren.”
