Page 65 of Ranger's Justice

I press on. “You don’t get to decide how this ends. You don’t get to finish what I started without me.”

Gideon clears his throat. “She’s not wrong.”

Rush whips his head toward him, eyes narrowing.

Gideon lifts a shoulder, unfazed. “This started with her. If she wants to see it through, she has every right to.”

Rush exhales slowly, rolling his neck like he’s trying to physically shake off the frustration vibrating through him.

I soften my tone, placing my hand over his. “I’m not asking to go in unprepared. I know I’m not as skilled as you guys, but I can handle myself. And more importantly? I need to see this through.”

His fingers twitch beneath mine, and for a moment, I think he’s going to argue again. But then he exhales sharply, his shoulders dropping just slightly.

“Damn it, Cassidy,” he mutters.

I grin, sensing acquiescence. “That’s a yes?”

He scrubs a hand over his jaw, shooting a glare at Gideon before turning back to me. “It’s a ‘don’t make me regret this.’”

I beam. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Dalton snorts. “She’s lying.”

Rush sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I know.”

The tension eases just slightly, the weight of the argument settling into something more manageable. We’re still on edge, still running on adrenaline and instinct, but at least we’re moving forward.

Gage claps his hands together. “Alright, now that that’s settled, we’ve got work to do.”

Gideon nods. “We’ll get the layout of the estate, run surveillance, and figure out the best entry points. We do this right, we end this in one move.”

Rush is still watching me, his eyes unreadable, his body wound tight. I don’t know if he’s accepted my decision or if he’sjust picking his battles. Either way, I’m in. And when this is over, when Hollister is nothing but a bad memory? I’ll deal with whatever this thing between Rush and me has turned into.

The strategy meeting lasts for hours. Maps, surveillance footage, weapons load outs—it’s all thrown across the dining room table, every man in the room locked in, fine-tuning our final play. This isn’t just another op. This is the endgame.

I sit between Dalton and Gage, absorbing everything, asking questions where I need to, but mostly listening. This is their world, and I know enough to recognize that I’m still learning to navigate it. But one thing is clear—Hollister isn’t slipping through our fingers again.

Gideon circles the table, his voice even, measured. “We’re not waiting for him to settle in at the estate. If we hit them as they arrive, we control the battlefield.”

Rush nods, arms crossed over his chest. “We keep the element of surprise. Hit hard, hit fast.”

Dalton grins. “Make sure no one walks away.”

I inhale sharply, keeping my expression neutral. I’ve made my peace with the fact that this isn’t a mission for arrests. There won’t be a trial, no carefully constructed legal arguments to dismantle what Hollister has done. The system failed. This is something else entirely—something permanent.

And if the governor is okay with that—and apparently he is—I’m okay with it too.

I glance at Rush, and for a moment, I think he’s watching me, waiting for me to balk, to show some sign of hesitation. But I don’t. I gave up that luxury when I threw in with a bunch of wolf-shifting Texas Rangers.

Gideon continues, pulling up a blueprint of the estate. “We’ll split into three teams. Deacon and I will take the eastern perimeter. Dalton and Gage will be at the west boundary, cutting off their escape route.” He looks at Rush. “You and Cassidy will breach from the south.”

Rush stiffens beside me. I don’t need to look at him to feel it—the tension humming through his body, the war still raging inside him about letting me be a part of this. I press my knee against his under the table, a silent reminder. I’m not backing down. Rush exhales through his nose but doesn’t argue.

Gage gestures toward the map. “Hollister’s supposed to be arriving with a small security team. Five, maybe six. But Del Toro’s men? We’re looking at fifteen, maybe twenty. We don’t know if he’s bringing any higher-ups, but in either case, his men will be heavily armed.

“Which means we bring out the big guns,” Dalton grins, leaning back in his chair, tapping the edge of his knife against the table.

Deacon nods. “We hit them before they even know we’re there.”

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