Page 55 of Protector of Talon Mountain

I don’t hesitate. One shot, center-left. His gun goes flying. He stumbles back, clutching his side.

Adam yells something, spinning to run, but Caleb’s faster. He fires a warning shot that kicks up dirt inches from Adam’s boots, forcing him to his knees with hands raised.

Brent drops to the ground, gasping through his teeth, hand slick with blood. “You son of a bitch,” he spits.

“You’re lucky I wanted you breathing,” I say, stepping in. I knock the gun farther from his reach with my boot and crouch beside him. “You think I’m not capable of more?”

“You don’t know who you’re messing with—what we’re connected to,” he growls.

“I don’t care who’s backing you,” I say, voice flat. “You touched her. You scared her. You tried to erase this town like it’s collateral damage. That ends now.”

He wheezes. “You gonna kill me?”

I shake my head. “No. I want you to live with what comes next. Every trial. Every headline. Every hour spent in federal custody while your empire burns. I want you to watch it all fall apart.”

Brent laughs again, but the sound’s wet and losing strength. He’s fading.

I turn to Caleb. “Get Adam zip-tied and call Travis Holt…”

“I thought he was dead,” says Caleb, confused.

“Not so much. Tell him we’ve got two suspects and a body trail he’ll want to map. I’ll stabilize Brent until he can get the medic up here.”

Caleb nods and moves.

Brent glares up at me. “She’ll never forgive you for this.”

“She already has,” I say. “And she’s not the one who should be afraid right now.”

He tries to speak again, but I press gauze from my field kit into the wound—not gentle, not cruel. Just enough to remind him I’m the reason he’s still alive. A low rumble from the south catches my attention—a second vehicle approaching, slower, cautious. Caleb radios confirmation: Travis, rolling in with the volunteer medic. That’s our wrap.

I rise to my feet, step back, and let the shadows swallow me as the others move in. Brent groans on the ground. Adam swears under his breath as Caleb zip-ties his wrists.

I let my gun hang low and walk to the edge of the trees, my heart pounding in my chest—not from the fight. From what comes next. Because this wasn’t about strategy. This wasn’t about territory or power. This was about protecting what’s mine. And I did.

But now, I have to go back to Sadie. I pull out my phone and text her just two words:

It’s done.

She doesn’t reply right away. I don’t expect her to. But a few seconds later, the dots appear. Then her message pops up:

Come home.

Just that.

I pocket the phone, my chest tightening in a way that has nothing to do with adrenaline and everything to do with her. Brent’s bleeding in the dirt. Adam’s cuffed and hauled to his feet. But all I can think about is the woman waiting for me on the other side of this. The one who wore my shirt to bed.

I know this isn’t over… not yet.

Adam’s cuffed and propped against the back bumper of Travis’s truck, his face pale, eyes darting like a cornered animal. He’s been quiet since Caleb dragged him off the trail—too quiet. But I know that silence. It’s not defiance. It’s self-preservation. And it won’t last.

I lean against the hood of my SUV, arms crossed, watching him with the kind of stillness that makes men sweat. Caleb stands off to the side, rifle slung and ready, keeping eyes on the tree line while Travis and the medic work over Brent’s bleeding side.

I give it another thirty seconds before I push off the hood and walk toward Adam. He flinches, just barely, but I see it. His nerves cracking.

“You ready to talk?” I ask, voice low and sharp.

He shakes his head, jaw clenched, but his eyes don’t meet mine.

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