Page 41 of Claimed By 3 Mountain Men

I drag a hand over my face, trying to clear my thoughts, but it does nothing to relieve the tension coiling in my gut.

I don’t bother turning on the light. Instead, I stand there, staring out the window, the wind howling like a warning.

I know my brothers, and I know they both want her.

They might deny it, but it’s there, written in their eyes whenever her name comes up. I can recognize the burning desire.

And what’s worse… I want her too.

11

MAC

The tent flaps violently, straining against the stakes driven into the earth, as if it, too, is desperate to flee. Rain pelts the canvas like a thousand tiny fists, and the world beyond is nothing more than a blur of shadows and noise.

But I’m not going anywhere.

JT’s threat hangs in the air, sharp and cutting, but they don’t deter me. If anything, they fuel the fire that’s been burning inside me since I first set foot in this forest.

He’s going to have to try harder to scare me off.

I know I’m onto something big—something that could change everything. If I can expose what the Truitt’s are really doing, I can save this forest. I can protect the last home of the silver lynxes.

I hunch over my laptop, the screen casting a pale blue light that feels like the only warmth in this dark, chaotic night. My fingers move quickly, reviewing footage, scanning through notes, piecing together the puzzle that’s slowly coming into focus.

I’ve entrenched myself in rewatching the old footage sent by the conservation, hoping there’s more of Luke, but it's only about a week’s worth of footage and very limited in what it shot.

I grind my teeth together.

The tent shudders, and for a moment, I wonder if it will hold.

I turn back to face my laptop.

So far, I’ve captured no evidence of any silver lynx activity in the surrounding area. But I have to be close. I just know it.

JT thinks he can scare me off. He thinks he can protect his family, his empire, by threatening me, by trying to push me away. But he doesn’t know me. He doesn’t know how far I’m willing to go, how deep I’m willing to dig, to get to the truth.

And his eagerness to get rid of me has only strengthened my belief that this family is hiding some dark, terrible secrets.

A gust of wind slams into the tent, and for a moment, the walls buckle inward, the fabric straining against the force of the storm. My heart leaps into my throat.

There was nothing on the weather about a storm this terrible moving in.

Suddenly, without warning, everything goes black.

I stare at the blank screen, my heart skipping a beat as the hum of the portable battery cuts off. The power’s gone, just like that, snuffed out by the storm. I reach for the lantern, flicking it on, but the small, warm glow does little to push back the shadows that press in from all sides.

As the wind picks up, it rips through the tent like a knife. The flaps tear open, and the rain pours in, cold and relentless, soaking everything in its path.

“No! No!” I shout frantically.

The tent buckles under the assault, the poles straining, the canvas flapping wildly. Water pools on the floor, turning the dirt into mud, and I scramble to save what I can. I frantically grab my notes, my gear, and anything that isn’t already drenched.

“Damn it!” I shout, but the wind steals the sound, and carries it away into the night. The storm isn’t letting up—in fact, it’s only getting worse. The wind howls with a fury that feels almostpersonal, as if determined to drive me out. It’s like the Truitt’s paid it off to appear and fuck up my life.

Staying here wouldn’t just be stubborn and foolish—right now it’s dangerous. The storm is too powerful, too wild, and if I don’t get out now, I’ll lose everything, including my life.

I throw on my raincoat, zip it up all the way, and grab my backpack stuffed with everything I was able to salvage and the few essentials that aren’t ruined. The wind slams the tent open again, and I step out into the storm, the rain lashing against my face like icy needles.

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