Page 81 of Protected By the Mountain Man

Blood. Not a lot. But enough. Enough to send a shot of panic straight through my core.

“Can't be hers,” I told myself, half-belief, half-prayer.

Bandit didn't stop. His pace quickened, and his barks became loud and sharp.

“Easy, Bandit,” I tried to say, but the words were lost in the frosty air.

Then I saw them.

Kat was on the ground, her body twisting, trying to fend off the weight that was Owen. He was on top of her, one hand raised and…fuck, he was holding a knife, poised to kill.

My stomach dropped.

Every muscle tensed.

“Kat!” The name burst from my lips, raw and filled with terror.

Owen's head snapped up at the sound of Bandit's furious barking and my scream, his eyes wild, a smear of blood trickling down his face.

I didn't hesitate.

I sprinted forward, closing the gap faster than I ever knew I could. My breaths were ragged, hot puffs of steam in the cold air, but my focus never wavered.

A feral roar tore from my throat as I launched myself at Owen, slamming into him with every ounce of force my body could muster. He grunted as we hit the ground, a tangle of limbs and snow.

The struggle was immediate and brutal. Owen fought dirty, his every move ruthless and desperate. He swung wildly, catching me with an elbow to the jaw that sent stars exploding across my vision.

“Damn you, Owen,” I spat, trying to pin him down.

But he was slippery, fueled by whatever madness had driven him to this point. Then, like a "flash of lightning, his knife was out—a glint of metal in the fading light.

“Shit!”

He slashed, and a line of fire seared across my arm. I couldn't get to my gun—couldn't risk a stray bullet hitting Kat or Bandit. Chris had to be right on my heels; I needed to believe he would tip the scales in our favor.

“Stop, Owen!” I snarled. But words were useless against a man who'd lost all reason.

We wrestled on the ground, bodies slipping in the snow and blood, my mind racing for a way to end this without anyone else getting hurt. My arm throbbed with pain, warm blood soaking through my sleeve, but I couldn't let it slow me down.

Not now. Not when Kat's life hung by a thread.

Owen flipped me over with a grunt of exertion, my back slamming into the cold snow. I gasped from the impact, the icy wetness seeping through my clothes.

“I’ll kill you, you asshole!” a woman’s voice screamed.

Then Kat was on him, a wildcat. She clawed at Owen's back, grabbing for the knife with a tenacity that made pride surge in my chest despite the danger. She wrestled the weapon from his grip with a twist that made him scream as his hand pointed the wrong direction. The knife spun out of his hand, disappearing into the snow.

“You bitch!” Owen spat, throwing her off. She flew through the air, landing with a sickening thud against a boulder. A cry tore from her lips, pain etched on her face.

“Kat!” My heart pounded, rage boiling inside me.

I surged forward, blind to everything but the man who’d hurt her. Tackling Owen to the ground, I let loose.

Each punch was a promise, a vow to protect what was mine.

“Never…again,” I grunted between strikes, my fists connecting with his flesh.

Over and over, I hit him, flashes of that night at the bar surging back—the night I'd defended her honor. That had been the wrong response.

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