My breath turns sharp. “If you’re behind what’s been happening to the ranch?—”
Kyle laughs under his breath. “Oh, sweetheart.” He shakes his head. “You really think you’re the center of that story? You think a little cut fence line is about cows?”
His eyes gleam. “It’s about leverage.”
A cold, sick understanding crawls up my spine.
Me.
I pull hard, trying to wrench free.
Kyle’s hand snaps up to clamp around the back of my neck—controlling, possessive. “Stop fighting,” he hisses, the first crack in his smooth mask. “I’m not leaving without you.”
My stomach drops through the ground.
I twist, aiming my knee up the way Daddy taught me when I was fifteen and a boy in town wouldn’t take no for an answer.
Kyle anticipates it. He shoves me back, hard, and I hit the fence post with a sharp jolt that lights pain down my shoulder.
The cart kid gasps.
“Hey!” the kid blurts. “Sir?—”
Kyle’s head snaps toward him. The kid freezes.
Kyle doesn’t even raise his voice. “Go sell your corn dogs,” he says, calm and terrifying. “Unless you want your mama crying tonight.”
The kid turns white. He stumbles backward, glancing once at me like he wants to help, then bolts toward the festival.
“No!” I shout after him. “Get Nash!”
Kyle clamps a hand over my mouth. The world shrinks to his palm, the taste of his skin and my own panic.
I bite him—hard.
He snarls and jerks his hand back, swearing under his breath, blood glistening on his knuckle. “You little—” His eyes go feral. He reaches into his pocket.
My body goes rigid.
Whatever he’s holding, I don’t wait to find out.
I shove him with everything I have and sprint along the fence line toward the open pasture, lungs burning, boots thudding, hair whipping my face.
I’m fast.
But fear makes men faster.
Kyle grabs a fistful of my shirt from behind, yanking me back so hard my feet leave the ground for a second. I stumble, catch myself, and swing my elbow—wild.
He catches me around the waist and drags me, my boots scraping furrows in the grass.
I scream.
The sound rips out of me, raw and loud.
Kyle’s arm tightens, crushing. “Shut up!” he growls into my ear. “You’re going to make this harder than it needs to be!”
I thrash, clawing at his arm, trying to break the hold, trying to breathe. My vision blurs at the edges.
