Page 61 of Claimed By 3 Mountain Men

As I work on the trap, my thoughts starts to race. Who the hell would do this? What the hell was Mac doing out here in the first place?

And why, despite all the logic in the world, and all the reasons I have to be furious with her, did I care so much?

The moment the trap loosens its grip, Mac collapses against me, her body limp with exhaustion and pain. I pull her up, hoisting her out of the pit and into my arms, her head lollingagainst my shoulder. She’s lighter than I expected, her frame fragile in a way that sends a pang of protectiveness through me

“Hang on, Mac,” I murmur, more to myself than to her, as I start to carry her out of the woods. “I got you.”

Her breathing is shallow, her skin clammy against mine, but I keep going, driven by a fear that gnaws at my insides, the fear that if I stop, if I falter even for a moment, I’ll lose her.

I push myself harder, my legs burning with the effort, my heart pounding in my chest.

“JT…” she whispers, her voice barely more than a breath.

“I’m here, Mac,” I say, my voice tight with an emotion I don’t dare name. “I’m here. I’ve got you.”

And in that moment, with the weight of her in my arms, and the warmth of her breath against my neck, I realize just how much that promise means.

I bring her to where my four wheeler is parked. The other two are already gone. I set her on my lap, rev the engine, and slam on the gas down the trails.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, the trees start to thin, the path ahead growing clearer. The lodge isn’t far now.

I kick the door open,the heavy wood slamming against the wall with a force that reverberates through the quiet lodge. The sudden noise jolts Ben and Hank from their seats near the fireplace, both of them turning to face me, their expressions a mix of confusion and shock.

“What the hell, JT?” Hank starts, but then he sees Mac, pale and bloody in my arms, and the color drains from his face. “Oh, shit.”

“Clear the table,” I bark, my voice sharp, cutting through the haze of panic threatening to overtake us all.

Ben and Hank snap into action, sweeping everything off the dining room table with a crash, dishes clatter to the floor, papers scatter in the air. I don’t care about the mess. All I care about is getting Mac’s wound cleaned and sewn up.

I lay her down as gently as I can, her body limp and fragile against the dark wood. She winces as her leg brushes against the table, and I grit my teeth, forcing myself to focus. I’ve been in worse situations—hell, I’ve patched up men in the middle of firefights when I was in the military.

“Get me a first aid kit and some clean towels,” I order, my voice steady, even though my hands are shaking as I examine the wound. The metal trap had done a number on her leg, the teeth digging deep into her flesh, leaving ragged edges that are still oozing blood.

Ben rushes off to grab supplies while Hank hovers nearby, his face pale, eyes wide. “Is she going to be okay?” he asks, his voice barely more than a whisper.

“She will be fine” I say, my tone clipped. “We just need to stop the bleeding first.”

Hank nods, swallowing hard, and I see the fear in his eyes, the same fear gnawing at my insides. But there’s no time for fear, or hesitation. I snap into action, my training kicking in as I assess the damage, prioritizing what needs to be done first.

Ben returns with the first aid kit and towels, dumping them onto the table beside me. I rip open the kit, pulling out antiseptic wipes, gauze, and medical tape. My hands move automatically, cleaning the wound as best as I can, even as Mac whimpers in pain.

“Easy, Mac,” I murmur, my voice softer now, meant only for her. “You’re going to be okay. Just stay with me.”

She nods weakly, her eyes fluttering open briefly, but there’s a glazed, distant look in them that sends a jolt of fear through me. I need to work faster.

“Ben, apply pressure here,” I instruct, guiding his hands to the wound. “Keep it steady.”

Ben follows my lead, his hands firm but gentle as he presses down on the wound, trying to stem the flow of blood. Hank stands on the other side of the table, his hands hovering as if he wants to help but doesn’t know how.

“What happened?” he asks.

“Trap,” I say shortly, my jaw clenched as I open the kit, my hands shaking as I rummage through the supplies. “In the woods. Old, rusted. We need to get her leg cleaned up, stop the bleeding, and then I’ll stitch her up.”

“A trap?” Ben’s eyes go wide with fear. “You mean…”

“I don’t know what I mean, alright?” I snap, anger and fear bubbling over. “Right now, we need to focus on Mac. “

“Someone set a damn trap,” Hank says, his voice laced with fury. “In our fucking woods.”

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