Page 48 of Ranger's Justice

Gideon lets the silence stretch before speaking again. “I need to know you can keep your head straight.”

I snap my gaze to him, a growl building in my throat. “I don’t lose focus.”

His lips press into a thin line. “Not saying you do. But you need to be aware of what’s happening. Because if you’re not, she’ll be the one who pays for it.”

My muscles lock. I don’t need the reminder. I already know. Cassidy has a target on her back, and not just because of what she’s uncovered about Hollister. If they figure out what she means to me—what she is—she won’t just be a liability. She’ll be a weapon. A weakness for them to exploit.

The thought makes me see red.

Because if anyone tries? They’ll die screaming.

Gideon watches me for another beat, then nods. “That’s what I needed to hear.”

I exhale sharply, running a hand down my face. “She doesn’t know.”

His eyebrows lift. “That she’s yours?”

I glare at him. “The whole claiming part and transitioning. There hasn’t been time. Her concept of a committed relationship pales compared to what happens between fated mates.”

He grins, just a little, as he places his hand on my shoulder. “Rush, she might not understand all the details but trust me—she knows.”

A muscle in my jaw ticks. He’s probably right. And that presents a whole other problem.

I scrub a hand over my face, exhaling through my nose. This isn't how I wanted it to go. Hell, I didn't want it to go at all.

Cassidy shouldn't be involved. Shouldn't be in the crosshairs of men like Hollister, or worse, the cartel. She's got a target on her back, and the second they realize what she is to me, they'll use her.

But even knowing that, I can't keep her out of it, mainly because short of locking her in a cell, she’s not about to let me. Ican't shake the feeling that she might not be safe, not even then. She’s too damn stubborn. Too smart. Too determined—maybe that’s why my wolf wanted her in the first place.

I rake my fingers through my hair, already feeling the storm brewing between us when I tell her she’s coming on the op. Not because I want her there, but because I don’t have a choice. If I don’t include her, she’ll find her own way in, and I’d rather be the one watching her six than find her in the middle of the action without backup.

Gideon knows it too. That’s why he didn’t argue when I gave the order to keep her close.

Dalton, though? He’s going to have a field day with this.

I push off the table and turn toward the hallway. The house is quiet, most of the team getting their gear together, prepping for the run to the border. This next op has to go smooth, has to be executed perfectly.

We’re taking out that shipment. I don’t care how many bodies it takes to do it. But before I go, I need to see her. I need one last second of her being safe, untouched by this life, before I throw her into it. Before I hand her a gun and tell her to fight.

The bedroom door is slightly open when I reach it, and I ease it open wider, stepping inside. Moonlight illuminates the otherwise dark room.

She’s still asleep, curled into the blankets, her hair splayed across the pillow. Her breathing is soft, steady, her lips slightly parted.

She looks peaceful. I hate knowing I’m about to wake her up and tell her she’s walking into hell with us.

I step closer, crouching beside the bed, my fingers brushing over the edge of the sheet where it’s tangled around her hip. My wolf surges forward, the urge to touch her, to mark her, nearly overwhelming.

Instead, I let out a slow breath and whisper, “Mine.”

The word is low, barely audible, but it hangs in the space between us like a vow. Because it is. She’s mine. And when she wakes up, I’m going to make damn sure she knows it.

CHAPTER 13

CASSIDY

The first thing I notice when I wake up is the soreness. A deep, delicious ache lingers between my thighs, radiating outward through my limbs like a brand. Every inch of my body feels thoroughly used, thoroughly dominated. The second thing I notice is the lingering heat on my skin—the ghost of Rush’s hands, his teeth, his voice murmuring against my throat.

A shiver rolls through me, part satisfaction, part something deeper—something that unsettles me more than I want to admit.

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