Page 12 of The Foreman
“You’re pushing it,” he said, low and calm.
Her pulse jumped, just enough for him to see it at her throat. But she didn’t back down.
“I’m trying to understand the rules.”
“You already know them. You just want to see what happens when you break them.”
Her lips parted.He reached out, gripped her jaw with two fingers, and tilted her face up.
“Keep testing me, and you’ll find out exactly how I enforce them... or maybe that's what you really want. Is that it, Macy? Do you want someone to ensure that when you step out of line...”
"If..." she started, lifting her chin.
Trace shook his head. "When. Someone who will hold you accountable so you have boundaries you feel will keep you safe."
She swallowed, said nothing, and looked away.
“Now go help with the horses,” he said, releasing her. “If you’re staying here, you’re going to pull your own weight.”
“You want me to muck stalls?”
“I want you to remember what consequences feel like.”
She opened her mouth. Closed it. Then spun on her heel and stalked deeper into the barn, boots striking the packed dirt with sharp, defiant steps.
Trace watched her go, her hips swaying with every furious step, and let the silence settle back over him. His jaw tightened, the ghost of her defiance still pulsing beneath his skin. Part of him wanted to drag her back by the wrist and show her exactly what happened when a brat tested a man like him. Another part wanted to give her space in order to keep his professional distance. He wasn’t sure which instinct infuriated him more. He exhaled through his nose, then pulled out his phone and dialed Jesse again.
“Anything new?”
“Nothing on the surface,” Jesse said. “But we're combing the back end of their digital logs. We’re running a forensic audit on the servers for anomalies.”
“Good. I want eyes on the research files and internal communications. Look for inconsistencies, forged entries, anything timestamped post-incident that implicates Macy.”
“She really get to you that bad?”
“She’s not the problem. Whoever might be coming for her is. Where are the cops?”
"Still looking for her. They haven't contacted us, and we haven’t seen any surveillance. I've got our techs monitoring your security feed. So far. so good."
By noon, the tension in the house had settled just enough to breathe. Macy had spent the morning cleaning tack under Trace’s watchful eye. She hadn’t complained. Much. But more importantly to him, she'd done a good job.
She came in just before lunch, dirt smudged across one cheek and her ponytail sliding sideways. Trace handed her a towel.
She took it without comment.
He stepped behind her and plucked the elastic band from her hair, letting it fall around her shoulders.
“You don’t tie it back right, it pulls.”
“Thanks, Dad.”She grinned, drying her hands.
“Careful.You hungry?” he asked.
She nodded.He turned to the stove and began pulling out ingredients.
“You cook too?” she asked, surprised.
“Beats starving to death or take-out.”
