“Wait—” she starts.
I stop long enough to catch her wrist—gentle but absolute. “Inside. Lock the door. If your dad asks, tell him I’ll call in two.”
Her chin lifts, stubborn and brave. “I’m not helpless.”
“I know.” My thumb presses once against her pulse. “That’s why I’m asking, not ordering.”
It lands. She nods once.
I release her and jog through the dark.
The ranch is a map in my head; my boots know the path without instructions. The night air turns colder as I hit the open stretch toward the south fence. A flashlight beam skims the ground—mine, low and red-lensed. The horses stamp and snort, because they feel trouble before people do.
I reach the damaged section we repaired this afternoon. My stomach goes tight. The new post is tilted. The wire is slack again. And someone has left a small pile of something at the base—glinting faintly in the light.
Metal shavings. A cut tool mark too clean to be careless. This isn’t random. This is a message.
I crouch, fingertips hovering, not touching yet. I check the lines and snag my finger along the wire.
Fuck.
Somebody is studying our patterns.
Somebody knows this ranch like the lines of their own hand.
Somebody is confident enough to come back after we put on a show in town.
I scan the tree line as blood drips from my fingers.
Behind me, the house light glows warm and unaware. Delaney is inside it. Her parents. The life she came back to save.
A low, hard rage settles into my ribs.
Not the reckless kind.
The focused kind.
“I don’t know who you are,” I murmur into the dark, voice so quiet it’s for me alone, “but you picked the wrong ranch.”
I rise, thumb my phone on, and call Gray.
“Second hit at the south line,” I say. “Clean cut. Deliberate. We’ve got a planner.”
A pause.
Then Gray’s voice comes cool and sharp. “Copy that.”
I stare out into the night, the wire humming soft as a warning.
Whoever is doing this thinks they can scare the Colemans into selling.
Thinks they can use this town’s kindness against it.
Thinks Nash Hawthorne is just an old heartbreak with a cowboy hat and a history.
They’re about to learn I came back different for a reason.
And this time?
