"Mornin'," I groaned as Ryan slid out from under me in his bunk. I stretched, already missing his warmth. "Time to get up already?"

He chuckled, buttoning his jeans. "We could've stayed in your bed last night—then you wouldn't have to wake up so early."

"And let you sneak out at the crack of dawn?" I smirked, propping myself up on my elbow. "Not a chance. I like watching you get ready." My eyes trailed down his body as he tucked in his shirt and buckled his belt. I gestured toward him with a lazy wave of my hand. "All of that is fun to watch."

Ryan grinned, eyes twinkling. "Glad you like what you see, baby. We can sleep wherever you want."

I reached for him, ready to pull him back into bed. "I love you—" I paused, wrinkling my nose. "But first, I need to brush my teeth."

Ryan just smirked, shaking his head. "Come find me after, sweetheart."

I stretched as I climbed out of bed, weaving through the bunkhouse as the guys got ready for the day. Teeter shimmied into her jeans, Mia stretched out lazily on Jimmy's bunk, and in the corner, Laramie was still curled up in Lloyd's double bed.

"Don't get up," Lloyd murmured, tucking the blankets around her. "Stay as long as you want."

"Hey, baby," Teeter drawled, shooting me a grin. "I wish some bronc would break my back so I could lay around in bed all day bumpin' fuckin' uglies till noon." She cut a sly look toward Colby. "Don't that sound nice?"

Ryan chuckled as he buttoned his shirt. "Just a matter of time."

Shaking my head, I made my way to the bathroom, pushing the door open. Teeter followed close behind.

"I think you're starting to wear him down," I teased, smirking at her in the mirror as I brushed my teeth.

"Inch by fuckin' inch," she smirked right back. "He's a hard nut to crack. But I'm patient."

Ryan was waiting by the door when I stepped out of the bathroom.

"Hey, you," I murmured, rising onto my toes to kiss him.

He grinned against my lips. "Minty."

I rolled my eyes as he tucked a strand of hair behind my ear.

"I gotta head out—Kayce called," he said. "Think you can keep this bunch outta trouble while I'm gone?"

"No promises," I smirked, arching a brow. "Be careful." Livestock Agent work. Never a dull moment.

"I always am, baby." He leaned in, brushing his lips over mine again, lingering just a little longer this time. "Needed one for the road."

I watched as he walked away, shaking my head with a smirk. Damn, I was a lucky woman.

For the first time in a long while, the bunkhouse was quiet. The guys were off doing something, and Jimmy and Rip were taking a rank son of a bitch out to see if Sid Syner's boy could buck the rodeo out of him.

I took advantage of the rare stillness, pouring myself a cup of coffee before settling at the table with my laptop. Last night's ride with the girls had reminded me of something—I missed performing. Putting on a real show. And I wanted to try something different.

I wasn't planning on jumping through fire or anything reckless. But Roman riding? That had my attention.

I knew Denim well enough to know he wouldn't take kindly to working with another horse by his side. For this to work, I needed two horses that moved in sync—with each other and with me.

I needed two horses with Denim's style but none of his sass. There was only one man who could find exactly what I was looking for—though he'd try to swindle me in the process. I picked up my phone, already bracing myself for the conversation.

"Well, girl, I was expectin' your call a long time ago," Travis drawled the moment he answered. "You know you still got a place with my crew."

"Yeah, I know. But that's not why I'm callin'," I said, cutting straight to the point. "I need a pair of horses. Not one of your five-million-dollar beasts, either. They've gotta be able to work together."

I could practically hear the dollar signs ringing in his head.

"I'll see what I can come up with," he said smoothly. "How soon you wanna see 'em?"

"I'm in no rush. Next time you're up this way," I told him, leaning back in my chair. "I'm gonna see about workin' with some of the ranch horses first. Might not even need you."

Travis let out a knowing chuckle. "Oh, you need me, Alex. In more ways than one."

I rolled my eyes. "Not for that, I don't."

"Right, right. Forgot—you're in love." His voice was all tease, but there was a hint of something else beneath it. "I'll call if I find a pair worth your time."

"Appreciate it, Travis." I ended the call before he could get another smart-ass remark in.

—-

"Sweetheart," Dad said as we pulled into the diner's parking lot, "I'm surprised you wanted to come with me."

I shrugged, a small smile tugging at my lips. "We used to come here all the time after Beth and Jamie went off to school. Guess I'm feeling nostalgic." Then, lowering my voice, I added, "And they have the best chicken-fried steak."

Dad chuckled as he put the truck in park. "Don't let Gator hear you say that."

I smirked. "Secret's safe with me."

We stepped inside, the familiar scent of coffee and fried food wrapping around us like a warm memory. Without thinking, I slid onto the same barstool I used to sit on as a little girl. Dad took his usual seat beside me, just like he always had.

"Doc letting you eat steak again?" the waitress, Maggie, asked.

"Yep, I got a clean bill of health," Dad told her. "I can eat whatever the hell I want."

"You still like it rare?" she asked.

"Yep, just pull it out of the cooler, whisper fire, and throw it on my plate," he answered.

"What'll you have, Alex?" she gave me a smile.

"I'll have the steak too, just battered and fried and covered with a ton of gravy, please," I almost missed being able to swing my legs freely on the stool.

Maggie chuckled as she jotted down our orders. "Some things never change."

Dad smirked. "Why mess with a good thing?"

I leaned my elbows on the counter, glancing around the diner. It still looked the same—checkered floors, faded menus above the grill, and the comforting hum of morning conversations. It felt like stepping back in time.

"You're looking good, John," Maggie said as she poured Dad a cup of coffee. "Retirement must be treating you well."

Dad scoffed. "Retirement?" He shook his head. "Don't use bad words at the breakfast table, Maggie."

She laughed. "Figured as much. You'd shrivel up and die if you weren't running that ranch." She turned to me with a wink. "And you? Still giving these boys a run for their money?"

I smirked, reaching for the sugar. "Always."

I turned at the sound of the bell above the diner door, my stomach sinking. Breakfast with my father was about to take a sudden nosedive. Clint and Wade Marrow strode inside like they owned the place. Dad saw them too. His jaw tightened as he stirred his coffee, his movements slow and deliberate.

I felt Clint's eyes on me before he even spoke. He slid onto the stool beside mine, wearing that same cocky, shit-eating grin. Wade took the seat on the other side of my father, boxing us in.

"Mornin', Alex," Clint drawled, leaning in just enough to make my skin crawl.

I glared at him. "Don't you have anything better to do?"

"Than make you squirm?" His breath was hot against my ear. "I know how you squirm."

Dad set his cup down with a quiet clink against the saucer. "I don't believe in coincidences," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "One thing you ain't is stupid. So for you to set foot in this state again, much less work the land beside mine, tells me one of two things. Either you got a death wish, or your boyfriend in prison fucked all the common sense right outta you."

Clint shot up from his seat, ready to square off. He grabbed Dad's shoulder, a mistake he didn't get the chance to regret.

I was done playing nice. I snatched the water glass off the table and smashed it right into Clint's face. He reared back with a furious snarl, fist drawn, but before he could swing, my father's punch sent him crashing onto the diner floor.

Dad stood over Clint's crumpled form, watching as he groaned on the diner floor. "Nice to see you had a child who lived, Wade," he said, his tone cold as steel. "Though he sure drew the short straw with you for a father. I gave you a job, a place to call home, and you stole the one thing a cowboy never fucking steals. And now you're here—and you ain't stupid."

Wade met his stare without flinching. "I'm here 'cause I was hired to be here, and you can not like that all you want," he replied. "Hell, that's probably the reason they hired me in the first place. But any time you feel like wrestling a bear instead of a cub, pick the barn, John." He leaned down, gripping Clint's arm and hauling him off the floor.

Clint wiped at his bloody nose, then turned his eyes on me. A smirk tugged at his lips. "I guess you like it rough now, huh?"

My hands clenched into fists at my sides. "Go crawl back in the hole you slithered out of," I snapped.

Dad's voice cut through the tension like a blade. "Wade," he said, locking eyes with him, "you have something that belongs to me."

Wade didn't so much as blink. "Come and get it."

Dad gave a slow nod. "I plan to."

Without another word, Wade and Clint turned and stomped out of the diner, the door slamming shut behind them.

I let out a slow breath, forcing my shoulders to relax. Then I sat back down and picked up my fork.

"Might as well finish my breakfast."

—-

My phone rang just as we pulled through the gates of the Yellowstone.

Kayce.

Why was he calling in the middle of the day?

I hesitated on the porch as Dad stepped inside, swiping to answer.

"Hello?"

"Alex, meet us at the hospital," he said.

My stomach dropped.

"What happened?" My voice shook.

"Ryan was shot," Kayce said. "He had his vest on, but EMS is taking him in to get checked out."

"I'm on my way."

I couldn't think—I just moved. I shoved through the door, grabbing my keys, but my truck was blocked in.

"Dad, give me your keys. I need to go now."

He turned at the urgency in my voice, eyes scanning my face, my shaking hands.

"Sweetheart," he said, calm but firm, "what happened?"

I could barely get the words out. "They shot him. They shot Ryan."

Dad's expression hardened. "You don't need to drive, honey. I'll take you."

I didn't argue. There wasn't time.

The drive to Bozeman stretched endlessly, every mile heavier than the last. My leg bounced restlessly, my fingers gripping my phone so tight my knuckles turned white.

"He was wearing his vest," Dad said, like that was supposed to make me feel better.

"I know."

But it didn't stop the panic clawing up my throat.

We pulled into the hospital parking lot, and before Dad could even throw the truck into park, I had the door open, jumping out.

"Alex—" Dad called after me, but I didn't stop. I bolted through the sliding glass doors, scanning the waiting area until I spotted Kayce.

His face was tense, his arms crossed over his chest, but he wasn't panicking. That had to be a good sign, right?

"Where is he?" I demanded, barely able to catch my breath.

Kayce stepped toward me, hands up like he was ready to stop me from barging through the hospital. "They're checking him out now," he said. "He's awake, talking, just bruised up pretty bad."

I exhaled sharply, my body still trembling from the adrenaline.

"He asked for you," Kayce added, giving me a small nod toward the hallway.

I didn't wait. I pushed past him, weaving through the corridors until I found the room number. My fingers hovered over the handle for half a second before I forced myself to push it open.

Ryan was sitting on the hospital bed, his shirt off, a deep bruise already blooming across his ribs where the vest had taken the hit. He glanced up as I walked in, his lips twitching into a tired smirk.

"Hey, baby," he drawled. "You should see the other guy."

"You fucking scared the shit outta me," I felt the tension start to leave my body as I sat on the foot of his bed. I took his hand in mine as I scanned him over, checking for any other injuries.

"I'll be fine, baby," he gave my hand a squeeze, "hurt like hell but I'm ok."

I exhaled shakily, my fingers tracing over his knuckles. "You don't look okay," I muttered, my eyes still scanning him, as if I'd find some hidden wound the doctors had missed. The sight of that deepening bruise on his ribs made my stomach twist.

Ryan chuckled softly, then winced. "Hurts to laugh," he admitted. "Vest took the worst of it, but I'll be sore as hell for a while."

I swallowed past the lump in my throat and met his eyes. "Who did this?"

His expression darkened slightly. "Cattle thief," he said. "Didn't like us asking questions, took a shot through a fucking wall."

I shook my head, my jaw tightening. "Bastard's lucky it wasn't worse."

Ryan gave my hand another squeeze, his thumb brushing against my skin. "Hey," he said softly. "I'm still here."

I closed my eyes for a second, grounding myself in the warmth of his touch. When I opened them again, I shifted closer, leaning in just enough to press my forehead against his.

"You ever scare me like that again," I murmured, "and I swear to God, Ryan, I'll be the one kicking your ass."

His lips twitched up into a grin. "Noted, baby."

The doctor came in his face unreadable. "Just bruised. Not broken," he looked over at me, "You the girlfriend?"

"I am," I don't think I'd ever been referred to as that before but it fit.

"Make sure he takes it easy for a few days," the doctor said. "If you're ready the nurse will bring your discharge papers in."

I nodded, squeezing Ryan's hand once more before the doctor turned to leave. I watched him go, the weight of everything still settling in my chest.

Ryan shifted, sitting up a bit straighter, his face contorting with the effort. "I'll be fine. Don't make it worse by hovering," he said with that familiar teasing tone, though I could hear the exhaustion beneath it.

I gave him a soft, tired smile. "I'll hover all I want. You got shot, Ryan. I'm not letting you out of my sight for a minute."

He rolled his eyes but didn't argue, leaning back against the pillows with a resigned sigh.

The nurse came in shortly after with the discharge papers, her smile friendly but brief. "You're free to go," she said, handing the paperwork to me.

I signed without hesitation, my focus entirely on Ryan as I helped him sit up a little more.

He looked at me, raising an eyebrow. "You know, you're making this look like you're the one that got shot. All this concern's starting to make me feel guilty."

I smirked, tucking the papers into my bag. "Good. You should feel guilty." I stood, offering him a hand. "Now, let's get you out of here. The sooner you're home, the sooner I can actually make sure you're okay."

Ryan smiled, taking my hand, though his movements were slow. "As long as it means I get some rest and a little more of that hovering."

I held his hand as we walked down the hospital hall. Kayce was still in the waiting room.

"Told Dad to head back home," Kayce said, "Y'all ready?" I saw the looks they shot to each other. There was more to the story they didn't want me to know.

"Kayce, just tell me what happened and quit trying to sugarcoat it," I said as we walked out to his truck.

"If your brother hadn't told me to move," Ryan answered, "it would have been a lot worse."

I felt my stomach drop at Ryan's words, his tone heavy with the weight of whatever had happened.

Kayce sighed, glancing over at Ryan before looking back at me. "It was close, Alex. Real close. We're still piecing together everything that went down, but I don't want you to worry too much."

I shot a look at both of them, my hand tightening around Ryan's as we got into the truck. "Why didn't you tell me this sooner?" I asked, trying to keep the worry out of my voice but failing miserably.

Kayce's jaw clenched. "We didn't want you freaking out."

Ryan let out a low laugh, though it was more strained than usual. "Freaking out? She's already there, Kayce."

I was silent for a moment, the weight of the situation finally settling in as I processed what they were telling me. I couldn't shake the image of Ryan getting hurt, of what might have happened if he hadn't listened to Kayce.

"Next time, don't leave out the details," I finally said, my voice tight. "I can handle it. But don't keep me in the dark. Not again."

Ryan gave my hand a gentle squeeze, the quiet apology in his eyes enough to ease some of the tension in my chest. "I'm sorry, Alex. We just didn't want to add to the stress."

Kayce stayed quiet, the weight of my words lingering in the truck as we made our way home.

"The guy who did this," I looked at Kayce, "what happened to him?"

Kayce's voice was quiet, "I killed him."

I wasn't sure whether to feel relieved at the sound of his voice. Kayce had killed people who had deserved it more time than I knew about but each one chipped at his soul.

"You did what you had to do, Kayce," I told him. I knew he wouldn't believe me.

—-

"You are not staying in the bunkhouse tonight," I told Ryan as I helped him down from Kayce's truck.

"Why not?" Kayce asked giving me a slight grin, "Y'all don't do much sleepin' when he stays here."

"When did you become so funny Kayce?" I wrinkled my nose at him.

"I've always been funny," he responded.

"Funny looking," I shot back.

"Then so are you 'cause you look just like me," he chuckled.

"I'm much better looking than you," I said.

Ryan chuckled softly, leaning into me for support as we made our way toward the house. "You two are a real piece of work," he said with a grin, clearly amused despite everything.

Kayce raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, well, someone's gotta keep it interesting around here."

I shot him a playful glare. "I'm serious, though. You're staying in my bed tonight. You're not going back to the bunkhouse and risking pushing yourself too hard."

Ryan sighed, but he didn't argue, his tired eyes showing he was too worn out for another fight. "Fine, fine. But only because I know you're not gonna let me hear the end of it."

"Damn straight," I said with a smirk as I opened the door. "Get comfortable, I'm getting you settled. Kayce, stop making me laugh so hard. I'm trying to focus."

Kayce raised his hands in mock surrender, still grinning. "Hey, don't blame me. Blame your own sense of humor."

Ryan shook his head, a small laugh escaping him as we walked into the house. "I think I might be stuck between two comedians."

"Lucky you," I teased, helping him sit on the couch. "You're just lucky I love you."

Ryan gave me a tired smile, his hand finding mine as he leaned back against the cushions. "I'm pretty damn lucky."

—-

I kept my promise, hovering over Ryan, fussing over every little detail until I was sure he was as comfortable as he could be. I adjusted the pillows, made sure the blankets weren't too heavy, and even ran my hand over his chest just to reassure myself that he was really here—alive and breathing. Only then did I finally settle beside him, curling into his warmth, my head resting lightly on his chest where I could hear the steady rhythm of his heart. The sound grounded me, but it wasn't enough to quiet the lingering fear clawing at the edges of my mind.

"You sure you're okay?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper as I tilted my head to look up at him.

"I'm sure, baby," he murmured, his fingers slipping through my hair in slow, comforting strokes.

I closed my eyes for a moment, letting the feeling of his touch soothe me, but the fear still sat heavy in my chest. "I don't ever want to know what it's like to live without you again," I admitted, my voice shaking despite my best effort to keep it steady. "I don't think I'd survive it."

Ryan's hand stilled for a second before he tightened his grip, his other arm wrapping around me as if he could hold me together through sheer force of will. "I'm not going anywhere," he promised, voice low and firm.

"You better not," I whispered, pressing a kiss to his chest, needing to feel him, needing to remind myself that he was here. That he was still mine.

I bit my lip as I thought about my father and what he said to me in the field.

You only have so much time.

I didn't know if a family was what Ryan wanted. I didn't really know if that's what I wanted. I know I want him. I'd be content enough.

"You got quiet all of a sudden," he said.

"I was just thinking about something my Dad said," I confessed.

"What was that?" he asked.

"I think he wants more grandkids," I told him, "what do you think about that?"

Ryan's fingers continued their lazy strokes through my hair, but I felt a slight pause at my question. He took a breath, his chest rising and falling beneath me.

"Well," he said slowly, "I think your dad's got a lot of opinions."

I let out a short laugh, but it didn't quite reach my eyes. "Yeah, no kidding."

Ryan shifted slightly, angling his head to look down at me. "But if you're askin' what I think about it—not what your dad thinks—I'd say… I don't know. Never really let myself think too hard on it."

I nodded, biting my lip again. "Me either."

There was a beat of silence, nothing but the sound of our breathing and the faint rustling of the blankets as Ryan's fingers traced slow circles against my back.

"I know I want you," he finally said, voice steady, sure. "That part's easy."

I lifted my head to look at him, meeting his gaze in the dim light. "That's how I feel too."

He brushed a strand of hair behind my ear, his thumb lingering against my cheek. "Then maybe that's enough for now."

I exhaled, some of the weight on my chest easing. "Yeah. Maybe it is."

—-

I slipped out of bed carefully, trying not to disturb Ryan, but the warmth of my absence must have woken him. He let out a low groan, rubbing at his eyes before wincing as he sat up too fast.

"You stay where you are, cowboy," I warned, pausing by the bedside. "I'll be right back."

Ryan chuckled softly, voice still rough with sleep. "Doc didn't confine me to bed, baby."

"No, but I did," I shot back, crossing my arms. "And I think we both know I'm scarier than the doc."

He smirked, the corners of his mouth twitching up even as he let his head fall back against the pillow. "I ain't gonna argue with that."

"Smart man," I said, leaning down to press a quick kiss to his forehead. "Now stay put."

"Alright, baby," he murmured, his fingers catching my wrist for just a second before he let me go. I lingered, just for a moment, watching him settle back into the pillows. His breathing evened out again, his body still tired from everything he'd been through.

I knew he hated being fussed over, but I wasn't about to let him play tough when he needed to rest. With one last glance back at him, I padded toward the door, already making a mental list of what he'd need to take it easy today. Whether he liked it or not, he was stuck with me hovering.

Softly, I made my way down the steps, careful not to wake anyone else. Though judging by the warm, buttery scent of biscuits and the sizzle of bacon, I wasn't the first one up.

"Morning, Gator," I greeted with a smile as I stepped into the kitchen.

"Morning, Miss Alex," he responded, giving me a nod while expertly flipping bacon in the pan. "Made you some cold brew—it's in the fridge."

"See, this is why I love you," I grinned, grabbing a cup and pouring myself a generous serving. The first sip was bliss, the chill waking me up almost instantly.

Gator chuckled, shaking his head as I moved to the counter to help him chop fruit.

"Can you grab me that tray thingy up there?" I gestured toward the top shelf. Without missing a beat, he reached up and pulled it down for me.

"Thanks," I said, loading up a few bowls of fruit before turning to the biscuits and bacon. I stacked a plate high with both, making sure there was enough for Ryan to actually eat and not just pick at.

I scanned the kitchen, feeling like I was forgetting something. Before I could even ask, Gator placed a coffee cup and saucer on the tray, along with a carafe of coffee.

"You're a mind reader," I said, flashing him a grateful look.

He smirked. "More like I know how y'all are about coffee."

With the tray balanced on my arm, I carefully climbed the steps, nudging the door open with my hip. Just as I stepped inside, Ryan was emerging from the bathroom, rubbing a hand over his face.

I shot him a playful glare. "And just where do you think you're going?"

He held his hands up in defense. "I had to take a piss," he said, voice still rough from sleep. "Promise I didn't exert myself much."

"Back to bed, cowboy," I ordered, raising a brow.

Ryan sighed but smirked as he walked back toward the bed. "Yes, ma'am."

I set the tray down on the nightstand, slipping back onto the mattress beside him. "Good. Now eat."

He chuckled, shaking his head as he reached for a biscuit. "Guess I'm under house arrest, huh?"

I leaned into him, stealing a piece of bacon from his plate. "Damn right."

Ryan eyed the plate of food before looking up at me, one brow quirked in suspicion. "Did you cook this?"

I smirked, popping a piece of fruit into my mouth. "I cut the fruit. Gator made everything else. Don't worry, I'm not trying to poison you."

He gave a small chuckle but still hesitated before taking a bite. I watched as his expression shifted—first to surprise, then to approval.

"That is good," I said, nodding in agreement. "I think I might marry Gator… you know, if you don't ask me first."

The words tumbled out before I could stop them. My heart skipped a beat as I realized what I had just said.

Ryan froze, fork halfway to his mouth, his gaze locking onto mine. "Is that what you want, baby?"

"What?" I scrambled, suddenly flustered. "I was just joking."

His lips curled into a knowing smirk as he set his fork down. "No, you weren't."

I swallowed hard, feeling my face heat. "I—"

Ryan reached for my hand, threading his fingers through mine. His voice softened. "You thinking about forever with me?"

I let out a breath, my heart pounding against my ribs. "I don't know… I just know I don't want a life without you in it."

He squeezed my hand gently, his thumb brushing over my knuckles. "Then I guess I better make sure I stick around, huh?"

I let out a small laugh, shaking my head. "Damn right, you better."

—-

We spent the entire day tangled up in blankets, wrapped in the kind of easy silence that only came with being completely comfortable with someone. No ranch work, no stress—just us, stealing a moment of peace. At some point, I might have made him sit through The Twilight Saga.

By the time we were halfway through Breaking Dawn, Ryan was staring at the screen with a look of absolute disbelief. "Okay, I get the vampire thing now," he said, rubbing his temple like he was trying to make sense of something impossible. "But why the hell do they sparkle? That makes no fucking sense."

I grinned, stretching out beside him. "Creative choices," I shrugged. "Their skin is covered in crystallized venom, I think."

Ryan shot me a skeptical look. "Crystallized venom?" He shook his head. "So, what? They're just… walking disco balls that bite people?"

I laughed. "Pretty much."

He exhaled dramatically, staring at the ceiling. "Well, I'll tell you one thing, baby. If I ever end up in some supernatural bullshit, I'm picking the wolves."

I smirked, propping myself up on my elbow. "Oh yeah? You gonna run around shirtless with a pack of other guys and howl at the moon?"

Ryan smirked back. "Only if you're watching."

I rolled my eyes, but the warmth in my chest was undeniable as I snuggled closer. "Good choice, cowboy."

After the credits rolled, I turned my attention to Ryan instead of the screen. He hadn't looked completely disinterested the entire time, which was more than I could say for Kayce and Lee when I dragged them to see the movies in theaters all those years ago. That felt like a lifetime ago. Unlike them, Ryan didn't grumble or complain—he actually seemed interested, asking questions instead of tuning it out.

I smiled, stretching lazily. "Since you've been so good," I teased, "I guess I can let you out of confinement so you can go play with your friends. As long as you take it easy."

Ryan smirked, tilting his head at me. "Play with my friends, huh? What am I, a damn kid?"

"Well," I mused, tapping a finger to my chin, "you did just sit through five movies about sparkly vampires and shirtless werewolves without throwing a fit, so I'd say you earned some recess time."

He chuckled, reaching out to pull me closer. "You sure you're ready to get rid of me already?"

I pressed my palm to his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath my fingers. "Not even a little," I admitted softly. "But I know you're getting antsy, and if I keep you in bed any longer, you might start whining."

Ryan laughed, leaning in to kiss my forehead. "I don't whine, baby."

"Mm-hmm," I hummed, unconvinced. "Just promise me you'll take it easy?"

He nodded. "I promise."

"Good," I said, giving him a quick peck on the lips before sitting up. "Now go on before I change my mind."

We got dressed and walked out to the bunkhouse. Colby pulled up in the Tracker looking beat all to hell. Then I saw Teeter. My heart sank. Her face was cut and bruised and it looked like Colby had tried to staple the skin together.

"Alex!" he called over to me. "She needs your help." Colby had always been easygoing. Even when things seemed to be going to hell around us. But this time, his voice was shaking.

"Get her inside," I told him and ran into the tack room to get my bag. I had sutures and some lidocaine. I hoped that would be enough.

"What the fuck happened?" Rip's voice called out from behind me.

"It was those dude-string cowboys," Colby answered as he struggled to hold Teeter up. Rip hoisted her up in his arms and carried her inside. "They ran us down on horses, tried to trample us to death."

I followed behind them, hoping my hands weren't shaking. I helped wash her up and get dressed. Then I had Teeter sit down in a chair.

"This is gonna hurt like a son of bitch," I told her as I pushed the needle in her cheak. I tuned out the sounds of the men around me, making plans to handle this situation. I focused on Teeter and her face. I let out a calming breath as I pulled the staples out. My fingers moving with ease as I stitched her up. I'd stitched up cows and pigs while helping the vet. But I'd never done it on a person, on a friend.

"Almost finished," I tried to reassure her, "you're gonna have a gnarly scar but I think it'll be small."

Teeter barely flinched as I worked, her jaw clenched tight, her pink-stained hat laid on the table beside us. She was tough as nails, but even she had her limits. Colby hovered nearby, his fists clenched at his sides, like he was barely holding himself together.

Rip paced behind us, silent but seething. I could feel the rage radiating off him in waves.

"You're doin' good, Teeter," I murmured, snipping the last suture and dabbing her skin with antiseptic. "You'll be cussing me out in no time."

She gave me a weak smirk, her good eye twinkling with mischief. "Ain't no cussin' when you're helpin' me, Alex. But soon as I'm up, I'm gonna beat their asses myself."

I smiled despite the knot in my chest. "I'd expect nothing less."

Rip finally spoke, his voice like gravel. "They still up there?"

Colby nodded. "Last I saw."

I exhaled slowly, pressing a bandage over the stitches. "Teeter stays here," I said firmly. "She needs to rest."

Teeter shot me a glare. "The hell I do."

I raised a brow. "You wanna pop those stitches and have me do this all over again?"

"I'm going," Teeter said, her jaw set with determination. "I'll risk it."

"If you're going, I'm going with you." I tied off the last stitch and met her eyes, my tone leaving no room for argument.

"It ain't yer fight," she countered, shaking her head.

I scoffed, tossing the used needle into the medical kit. "They did this to you, Teeter. Right here, on my father's ranch—on my ranch. That makes it my fucking fight." I stood up, my hands curling into fists. "And I'm not letting any of you talk me out of it."

Around us, the bunkhouse was already coming alive with movement. The men didn't need to say anything—I knew exactly what they were about to do. Boots pounded against the wooden floors, hands grabbed for weapons, and horses were being saddled. The air was thick with something heavy and inevitable.

This wasn't over. Not by a long shot.

I felt my father's presence behind me before he even spoke. When I turned to face him, I could see it in his eyes—this wasn't what he had trained me for. This wasn't what he wanted for me. But I wasn't backing down.

"Let's go outside," Dad said, his voice calm but firm as he gestured to Kayce and Rip.

I nodded, refocusing on Teeter as I wrapped the last bandage over her stitched-up wound. "Good as new," I murmured.

Colby hesitated before speaking. "Hey… you don't have to come."

Teeter shot him a look, fierce despite the pain in her face. "I wouldn't miss this for the fuckin' world."

"All right, get up, let's go," Rip called out, his voice carrying over the tense energy in the room.

I grabbed a rifle off the rack, my grip steady as I checked the chamber. Before I could sling it over my shoulder, Rip was suddenly there, pulling it out of my hands.

"No."

I snapped my head toward him, narrowing my eyes. "Who are you to tell me no?" My voice was cold, challenging.

Rip exhaled through his nose, leveling me with a look that carried more weight than words. "I'm someone who cares about you, Alex. And this—" he gestured toward the chaos unfolding around us, "—this is something you can't be a part of and still be who you were before."

My fingers curled into fists at my sides. "I may not have handled things the way you have," I said quietly, my voice dangerously steady, "or taken as many people to the train station as you have…"

His jaw twitched.

"Yeah," I continued, my gaze unwavering. "I know about that. I've known for a long time. I figured out a long time ago what it takes to keep this place safe." I took a step closer, meeting his stare head-on. "I'm not standing by anymore. I won't just watch you do it."

Rip studied me for a long moment, his expression unreadable. But he didn't argue.

Because he knew—this time, there was no stopping me.

The walk to the barn was silent, heavy with unspoken resolve. Ethan and Jake were already there, our horses saddled and ready. No words were needed. We all knew the plan.

I held back in the cover of the trees, keeping my mare still and quiet, her ears flicking at the tension in my grip. Walker rode the fence line, playing the decoy, an easy lure for men as arrogant as the Marrows. It didn't take long—like starving wolves catching scent of a wounded deer, they took the bait, spurring their horses in pursuit. That was our cue.

We emerged from the shadows like specters, thundering across the open field in pursuit. My heart pounded against my ribs as my mare surged forward, muscles coiling and releasing beneath me with every stride. I angled left, boxing them in, forcing them toward the clearing where we wanted them.

"I'll shoot every one of you sons of bitches!" Wade roared, his voice lost beneath the thundering hooves and snapping reins.

Rip was faster. His lasso cut through the air with deadly precision, snaring Wade clean around the torso. With a hard yank, Rip's horse never lost momentum, dragging Wade from his saddle. The bastard hit the ground hard, his screams muffled by the dust and trampling hooves.

But I had my sights set on Clint. That smug son of a bitch. I could see the panic flashing in his eyes as he recognized what was coming for him. Lloyd was right beside me, matching my pace stride for stride.

"Get it, girl," he called over, voice rough with encouragement.

I didn't hesitate. My lasso found its mark, the loop tightening around Clint's throat as I jerked him clean off his horse. His body slammed into the hard-packed earth, the sickening crack of skull against stone echoing through the clearing. He never even had time to scream.

Lloyd pulled up beside me, spitting onto Clint's lifeless body. "Got off easy, you piece of shit."

I met his gaze, giving a curt nod as I coiled my rope back up. I should've felt something—guilt, satisfaction, even relief. But all I could taste was rage, burning hot and unrelenting.

With Clint dead, our focus shifted back to Wade. Rip and the others had him pinned against a thick tree trunk, a rope already looped over a sturdy branch above. Wade stood on his toes, desperate for any relief from the tightening noose around his neck.

"I need a name," Rip growled, voice low and dangerous.

Wade coughed, struggling against the rough fibers biting into his skin. "What name?"

"The motherfuckers that hired you," Rip snapped. "I'm not askin' twice. Next time, I'm startin' with cuttin' pieces off."

Wade's resolve crumbled. He gasped, eyes darting wildly between us before spitting out the answer. "Rourke. That Market Equities son of a bitch."

Rip's lip curled. "Now let me down," Wade pleaded, voice raw with desperation.

"Why the hell would I do that?" Rip's gaze darkened. "I'm gonna kill you, but first—I'm takin' something back."

He grabbed Wade's shirt and tore it open, exposing the branded 'Y' scarred into his chest. Rip's voice was steel when he spoke. "You don't deserve to wear this brand."

He flicked his gaze toward Walker. "Over here. You prove yourself and you have our trust. Or I can take something from you too."

Walker hesitated only a second before stepping forward. He met Wade's terrified gaze and shrugged. "Mister, I don't know you. But if you're wearin' that brand, you must be a bad man. And if these sons of bitches want it back? You must be even worse."

Walker drew his knife, steady hands cutting through flesh with practiced ease, peeling the brand from Wade's chest. Wade's screams filled the air, blending with the scent of blood and fear.

The rage was still there, still thrumming in our veins. It demanded payment. Ryan pulled the rope, lifting Wade from his feet. His body jerked, fought, kicked. He pissed himself, choked, and finally stilled.

Rip watched him dangle, his voice calm when he finally spoke. "Y'all wanted revenge. Now you got it." His gaze swept over the rest of us, landing on me. "But there's a price to pay for revenge. And now you gotta pay it."

I met his eyes and nodded. I knew exactly what he meant. And I wanted it.

Night had settled around us. The campfire burned hot, the branding iron glowing white with heat. I watched as Rip branded each of the men, their jaws clenched, teeth gritted as the sizzle of the 'Y' burned into their flesh.

"Alex," Rip said, his voice steady.

I nodded and dropped to my knees in front of the flames, my heart pounding as I pulled my shirt open, sliding my bra strap aside.

"You ready?" Rip asked.

I locked eyes with him, swallowed hard, and nodded.

The brand pressed against my skin, and the searing pain ripped through me. But I didn't flinch.