Page 88 of Claimed By 3 Mountain Men

I whip around, my knife at the ready.

“It’s just me,” Ben whispers, his voice a calming presence in the darkness.

Relief floods me, and I let out a shaky exhale. “Jesus, you scared the crap out of me.”

“Got your six,” he breathes, his own blade glinting in the moonlight. “Let’s do this. “We need to get closer, and I figured two sets of eyes are better than one.”

“What about the cameras?” I ask.

“You really think I’m about to miss any more action out here tonight?”

“Point taken.”

We continue forward, sticking to the shadows, and steadily close in on the poachers. They’re only about 50 yards ahead, and their voices carry through the still night air.

“Well, shit, we better find another trophy then, hadn’t we?” the one says, his voice laced with a sickening cackle. “Looks like it’s another dead end.”

Rage boils in my veins, and I clench my fist tighter around the hilt of my knife.

I see something shift out of the corner of my eye. JT and Mac are crouched away from us behind a thick log. I motion to them both. JT nods silently.

Mac gives me a quick smile, and I feel my heart skip a beat. They slowly make their way over to us, careful with each step.

We move as one through the trees, our footsteps almost in sync with the night. The adrenaline pumping through my veins sharpens every sound, and movement. JT is on my left, Mac on my right. I glance at her, and even in the dim light, I can see the determination etched on her face, though her wide eyes betray a hint of fear. She’s tough, but this is something different, something real.

The wind shifts, carrying with it the faint smell of smoke. The poachers have set up camp not far ahead.

We crouch low as the underbrush thickens, making sure to stay completely silent. The crunch of leaves beneath our boots is the only sound that betrays our presence, but it’s drowned out by the soft crackle of the fire up ahead. I can hear muffled voices now, low and rough, and I signal for JT and Mac to stop.

I peer through the trees, catching glimpses of the poachers. Three of them, just like before. Two are hunched near the fire, while the third is bent over something I can’t quite make out. But there’s no mistaking the glint of metal traps on the ground beside them.

“Got ‘em,” I whisper to JT. He nods, his eyes narrowing as he watches the men.

We stay still for a moment, assessing the situation. There’s no room for error here. One wrong move, and they’ll know we’re on to them.

“You two circle around,” I murmur. “I’ll take them head-on. We need to take them down quickly and quietly.”

JT looks like he wants to argue, but he nods, glancing at Mac, who’s already gripping her knife with white knuckles. “Stay close to me,” he whispers to her, and she gives a quick nod.

We split up, the forest swallows us as we creep through the shadows. My pulse thunders in my ears, my focus locked on the poachers. They’re completely unaware that we’re closing in, still laughing about something we can’t hear.

I inch closer, my knife ready, my breaths slow and controlled. I can see their faces now, illuminated by the firelight—hard, cruel expressions etched into their features. These men don’t care about the land, the animals, or the lives they destroy. They’re here for one thing and one thing only; money.

I signal JT and Mac with a subtle hand gesture, and they begin to move into position, flanking the camp from opposite sides. The third poacher stands up, stretching and looking out into the woods. My heart pounds as I duck behind a tree, my breath held tight in my chest. He’s close—too close.

The man starts to turn, but before he can react, I leap from the shadows, tackling him to the ground. He lets out a grunt of surprise, as his rifle clatters to the forest floor.

“Shit!” one of the others yell, scrambling for his gun, but JT is already on him, his fist connecting with the guy’s jaw in a sickening thud. The poacher stumbles back, dazed, and JT’s on him in a flash, knocking the rifle out of his hands and pinning him to the ground.

I wrestle with the guy beneath me, his hands flailing as he tries to reach for his knife. But I’m faster, and I slam my fist into his gut before ripping the blade from his grasp. He gasps, the wind knocked out of him, and I press the knife to his throat.

“Don’t move,” I growl, my voice low and deadly.

Ben moves like a shadow, slipping behind the third poacher before he even realizes what’s happening. He takes the third out with a quick, clean strike, and he crumples to the ground, his scream is cut off by Ben’s hand clamping roughly over his mouth.

The camp erupts into chaos, the firelight flickering wildly as the poachers struggle to fight back, but it’s over before it begins. JT lands another solid punch to the second guy’s face, knocking him out cold, while Ben and I wrestle the third to the ground, securing his arms behind his back with a rough cord from his own pack.

The forest falls silent again, the only sound the labored breathing of the poachers as they lay sprawled out on the ground, bound and beaten.

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