“Now what?” the big guy says. “Looks like we got the upper hand.”
Trouble’s voice is calm. Too calm. “Let them go, or I’ll make damn sure none of you walk outta here alive. Your call.”
Knox lifts his head, blood dripping from his mouth. He grins through it. “Sawyer. You alright?”
I nod, barely. “Been better.”
I start moving toward him, but Trouble throws an arm out, holding me back.
That’s when the bearded one steps forward, raising his rifle at Trouble. “What’re you gonna do, cowboy? You’re outgunned. Outnumbered.”
And then?—
BOOM.
The barn door doesn’t just break, it detonates inward, sending splinters flying, then raining down around us. Atruck barrels through, its thundering engine shaking the whole barn, the stench of diesel choking the air. The ground shakes when it slams to a stop, rattling my teeth.
The Stetsons spill out, boots hitting dirt hard, guns already raised.
Gunfire erupts—loud, brutal, like everything around me is shattering.
The air fills with smoke, and every shot is hot enough I swear I feel it sear across my skin. Men are shouting, voices ragged.
Trouble tackles me, driving the breath from my lungs as he shoves us behind an old rusted car. My palms scrape against flaking metal, the reek of oil and rust filling my nose. My heart slams in my ears, each beat competing with the gunfire.
“Stay down,” he yells.
Another bullet zings past. I flinch.
Then he leans in, voice right at my ear. “On three, you run. Don’t look back. Head for the fence.”
“No,” I whisper, panicked. “What about you?”
“I’ll be right behind you,” he promises. “I’ll get Knox and be right there.”
I can’t breathe. Can’t think. But I nod.
“One.”
“Two.”
“Three.”
I run.
Tristan shouted at me to go, so I ran, yes, but not far enough. Ten paces, maybe twelve, before I stop behind a big tractor on the property. Something green and monstrous.
But I can’t think. It doesn’t feel right being here. Knox isn’t here. He’s somewhere in the chaos, and so is Trouble.
Me, I just crouch and hyperventilate. I will not scream. Iwill not make a sound. If I do, they’ll find me. The noises come in waves. First, more gunfire, and it’s so close I can count the seconds between each shot. Then shouting. I don’t recognize the voices, I can’t wrap my head around it.
I squeeze my eyes shut and try to remember the last thing I said to Knox or Trouble. Did I tell them I loved them?
“Don’t let it be Knox.” I say it out loud like a prayer.
“Don’t let it be Tristan.” My words are desperate.
“Don’t let it be any of the Stetson's, not yet, not today.” I’ll do anything to keep it from being them. From being him.
