Page 36 of Ranger's Justice

Gideon studies me for a long moment, then shakes his head. “That’s enough for now.”

My stomach drops. “What?”

Dalton sighs. “You know more than you should already. But there are rules. Things we can’t just tell you, Marlow.”

I scoff. “Says who?”

Dalton taps his temple. “The people who make it our job to clean up messes like this.”

A cold sensation crawls down my spine. “You mean… you have orders?”

Gideon doesn’t blink. “We always have orders.”

I look between them, heart hammering. “And what happens if I don’t stop asking questions?”

Dalton’s easy grin fades. “That depends.”

“On what?”

Gideon’s expression is unreadable. “On whether Rush decides to make you one of us.”

The statement hits like a bullet straight to my chest. I don’t know what that means, not really. But the way he says it—the quiet finality, the weight behind the words—tells me that whatever this game is, I just stepped onto the board without knowing the rules.

And Rush? Rush is the only one who can decide whether I get to keep playing.

Dalton watches me, his usual easy-going nature dimmed by something sharper. He’s not laughing now. Neither is Gideon.

I swallow, my throat dry. “You think I don’t understand? Try me.”

Dalton sighs, stretching his arms along the back of his seat like this is just another casual conversation, but I’m not fooled. His body is too still, his gaze too watchful. “You ever wonder why Rush tried to keep you at arm’s length, sweetheart?”

I stiffen at the nickname, but this time, I don’t snap at him for it. “Because he’s stubborn and overprotective?”

Dalton tilts his head, the ghost of a smile tugging at the edges of his mouth before vanishing. “That’s part of it. But the bigger reason? You’re human.”

Something heavy settles in my chest. “What does that have to do with anything?”

Gideon fidgets in the passenger seat, his eyes flicking to me before looking away. “Everything.”

Dalton leans forward, resting his arms on his knees. “You think it’s just about keeping you safe from Hollister and the cartel? That if we take down the right players, you can go back to your life like none of this happened?”

I swallow, forcing myself to meet his gaze. “That’s the goal, isn’t it?”

Dalton lets out a low chuckle, but there’s no humor in it. “You really don’t get it, do you?”

Frustration bubbles up inside me. “Then explain it. Because I’m sick of all the cryptic warnings and secret looks. If you’re going to tell me I’ve stumbled into something I can’t walk away from, then say it.”

Dalton exchanges a look with Gideon, and this time, it’s longer. It’s a conversation without words, an agreement before either of them speaks. It pisses me off more than I want to admit.

Gideon is the one who finally answers. “Rush is already walking a fine line with you.”

My stomach clenches. “What does that mean?”

Dalton sighs, running a hand over his face. “You saw what he is. What we are. That’s not something people just… walk away from. The more you know, the harder it is to keep you out of it.”

I shake my head. “You’re saying if I dig too deep, I become a liability.”

Dalton’s lips press into a thin line. “Not our word and not our belief. If Rush trusts you, then so do we, but yeah, for others, it could be a problem.”

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