Page 7 of Protector of Talon Mountain

“No,” I say. “Just wanted to see the place.”

She tilts her head, skeptical. “The place, or the people in it?”

I let one corner of my mouth lift. Not a smile—just honesty.

“Both.” I take a bite of the muffin. “Damn that’s good.”

Her breath catches, and I see the faint glimmer of a smile. She covers it with movement, grabbing a towel and turning away.

“Welcome to Glacier Hollow,” she says over her shoulder. “Don’t get lost in the woods.”

That’s not small talk. That’s a warning. I file it away.

The three customers by the window pretend they’re not watching. I log their positions without turning my head. One—tall, scruffy, fidgety—keeps shifting like he’s waiting on a signal. The other two stay too still.

I finish my coffee and muffin. Set the mug down without a sound. She’s back behind the counter, half-distracted, stacking plates. But she looks up when I move.

“You’re the new sheriff,” she says. Not a question.

I nod. “Zeke MacAllister.”

Something shifts in her face. A name means roots. She doesn’t like that. Or maybe she just doesn’t trust it.

“Sadie,” she says after a beat. “Callahan.”

No hand offered. Smart. We’re not there yet.

“Sadie,” I repeat. It fits. Soft edges, sharp core.

Another pause. Just a beat too long.

“You planning to keep Glacier Hollow safe, Sheriff?” she asks. Lighter tone. Not lighter eyes.

I meet her stare without blinking.

“I don’t plan,” I tell her. “I act.”

She nods. Just once.

And I know she’s going to remember that.

* * *

I step back out into the cold, the bell over the door giving one last soft jingle before it swings shut behind me. Wind hits my face, but I barely feel it. Not with her still in my head.

I walk down the street slowly, steadily, my pulse calmer than it has any right to be.

Something’s off in Glacier Hollow. The silence and boarded-up windows aren’t the only things amiss; people’s movements, their halting conversations when I approach, and the gutted, useless sheriff’s office all point to something being wrong.

And it’s in her. Sadie Callahan—sharp, wary, doing her damnedest to look unbothered. But I saw it. The kind of guarded that’s earned, not chosen.

Still, when she looked at me, there was a flicker, as if some part of her still believed that someone might actually be worth trusting. I’m going to prove she’s right. If someone in this town is making her feel unsafe, they’ll find out real fast what it means to cross the wrong man.

I catch myself chuckling. Funny how fast it’s all turned. I’ve gone from not giving a damn about anything or anyone to feeling like this town—and Sadie—might actually be worth something. Wortheverything.

She doesn’t know it yet, but she’s the reason I’m stepping back into life. And I don’t walk away from what’s mine.

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