Page 82 of Claimed By 3 Mountain Men

Both of them remain silent, their gaze fixed on me. It’s as if they’re waiting for my approval, for me to lead the charge against this invisible enemy.

I sigh, pushing myself off the barn wall and standing up straight. My heart feels heavy in my chest, but I know they're right. Dad is not here anymore. It's all up to us now.

“Fine.” I say finally, meeting their eyes squarely. “Let’s help our little lady then.”

21

MAC

The morning light filters through the curtains of the master bedroom, casting a soft glow on the walls as I sit hunched over my laptop, the screen flickers with the images that have been playing on a loop in my mind since I first hit play.

I’m trying desperately to focus on anything but what happened last night with the boys.

The trap we left stares back at me on the screen. No lynxes, but I see movement.

My heart races as I watch the footage again, my fingers trembling as I pause, rewind, and play it over and over, just to make sure I’m not imagining it.

But there’s no mistaking what I’m seeing.

The camera caught it all—the men moving through the trees like shadows, their faces hidden under hoods, their movements quick, and practiced. They’re careful, methodical, but not careful enough. The lens catches every detail; the way they set the traps, the way they move with the precision of someone who’s done this a hundred times before.

The footage is grainy in places, the camera struggling to keep up in the dim light, but it’s all there, clear as day. Proof.Proof that someone is out here, hunting not just for sport, but for something far more sinister and dangerous. This isn’t just random poaching. It’s organized, and calculated—a full-blown operation right under the Truitt’s noses.

And now I have the evidence to prove it.

I sit back, letting out a shaky breath as I rub my eyes, the reality of what I’ve just uncovered settling like a weight on my shoulders. The trap worked.

This is it. This is what I came here for. But it’s bigger than I imagined. And now, I’m going to need all the help I can get to bring it down.

But that’s the problem, isn’t it? The brothers. They’re not just some guys I can rope into this and then walk away from. They’re caught up in this mess just as much as I am, whether they know it or not. And JT… God, JT. The man is a storm waiting to break, all fury and control, and I don’t know how he’s going to take this, how any of them will.

I close the laptop, my hands still shaking as I stand up, the blood rushes to my head as I force myself to move, to think, to figure out what the hell I’m going to do. The room feels too small, too confining, and I need to get out. Get some fresh air, find the brothers and tell them what I’ve found before I lose my nerve.

I make my way down the hall, my footsteps echoing in the silence of the lodge.

I find them outside, where I half-expected they’d be. JT is working on something near the logging trucks, his movements brisk and efficient, like he’s been up for hours.

Hank is nearby, looking like he’s just rolled out of bed but already deep in conversation with Ben.

“JT! Hank! Ben!” My voice cuts through the morning air, sharp and urgent. All three heads snap up, their gazes locking onme as I make my way across the yard, the laptop clutched tightly in my hands.

“What is it, Mac?” JT’s voice is cautious, wary even, as I reach them.

“I found something,” I say, my heart pounding in my chest. “Something big.”

Hank’s brow furrows, concern flashing across his face. “What do you mean,somethingbig?”

I hold up the laptop, flip it open and turn the screen toward them. “You need to see this.”

They crowd around, peering at the screen as I hit play, the footage rolling out in front of them, as raw and undeniable as the knot in my stomach. I watch their faces, the way their expressions shift from confusion to shock to something much darker as the reality of what they’re seeing sinks in.

“Son of a bitch,” Ben mutters under his breath, his eyes wide, disbelief mingling with anger as he watches the footage play out.

Hank’s jaw tightens, his fists clench at his sides. “Who the hell are they?”

JT is silent, his eyes locked on the screen, his face is unreadable, but I can see the tension in his body, the way his muscles coil like a spring ready to snap. When the footage ends, the silence that follows is thick, and suffocating.

“I don’t know who they are,” I say, my voice trembling slightly. “But they’re out there, and they’re running a full-blown poaching ring. This isn’t just about a few animals. This is about taking down a whole operation.”

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