"This wasn't just cutting wire." Sawyer crouched beside one of the posts, his pale eyes tracking the splintered wood, his voice low and rough with barely contained anger. "Someone used a truck. Hooked chains to the posts and pulled them straight out of the ground."
"Tire tracks?" My voice came out flat, controlled, even as my hands curled into fists at my sides, my knuckles going white with the effort of holding myself together.
"Rained last night." He stood, brushing dirt from his knees, his jaw tight with frustration. "Washed everything away. Convenient timing."
Convenient. Right. Nothing about this was convenient. It was calculated. Deliberate. A message. I can touch anything you have. Anytime I want.
"How many cattle got out?" I turned to face him fully, forcing my voice to remain steady, forcing myself to think like a rancher instead of an Alpha who wanted to tear Easton apart with his bare hands.
"Sixteen head." Sawyer's expression was grim, his scent carrying sharp notes of aggression that matched my own. "We found most of them scattered across the back forty. Still missing three."
Three cattle. At current prices, that was nearly fifteen thousand dollars. On top of the fencing costs. On top of the equipment repairs. On top of everything else Easton had cost us in the past two weeks.
"Get the fencing crew out here." I turned away from the destruction, unable to look at it anymore without doing something I'd regret. "Temporary repairs first, then we'll rebuild properly once we?—"
"Reid." Sawyer's voice stopped me mid-stride, something in his tone making me turn back. He stood with his arms crossed over his broad chest, his pale eyes fixed on me with an intensity that bordered on challenging. "We're running out of crew to call."
The words hit me like a punch to the gut.
"What do you mean?" I asked, even though I already knew. Even though I'd been watching our workforce shrink for days, one by one, always with the same vague excuses.
"Martinez quit this morning." Sawyer's voice was flat, emotionless, but I could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his hands had curled into fists. "Said he got a better offer somewhere else. Wouldn't say where. That's the fourth one this week."
Fourth. We'd started with twelve full-time hands. Now we were down to eight. And I knew exactly where those "better offers" were coming from.
"He's poaching our workers." The realization tasted like ash in my mouth, bitter and choking. "Easton's paying them to leave."
"Probably paying them more than we can afford to match." Sawyer's jaw tightened, a muscle jumping beneath his skin. "He's got deeper pockets than we do, Reid. He can bleed us dry and barely feel it."
I knew that. I'd known it since the first piece of equipment mysteriously broke, since the first shipment went missing, since Easton first set his sights on Longhorn Ranch. He had money. Power. Connections. He had no conscience, no limit to what he was willing to do to get what he wanted.
What he wanted was my land…and from how he is acting…my omega as well. The thought of Aster made something dark and primal surge through my veins. Mine. She was mine. Ours. I would burn this entire county to the ground before I let him touch her.
"We'll figure it out." The words sounded hollow even to my own ears, but I said them anyway because that was my job. Head Alpha. Leader. The one who held everything together even when it was falling apart. "We always do."
Sawyer didn't argue, but I could see the doubt in his eyes. The same doubt that had been gnawing at my own chest for days.
I headed back to the house with heavy steps, my mind churning through problems I didn't have solutions for. The morning sun was warm on my face, but I couldn't feel it. Couldn't feel anything except the weight pressing down on my shoulders, the responsibility crushing me slowly from the inside out.
Nolan met me on the porch, his hazel eyes tight with concern, a stack of papers clutched in his hands.
"These came this morning." He held them out to me, his voice carefully neutral in a way that told me the news wasn't good. "Certified mail. From Easton's lawyers." I took the papers, scanning the first page with growing dread. Legal language. Property surveys. Boundary disputes.
"He's challenging our property lines." The words came out cold, dead, my eyes still moving across the text even as my brain struggled to process what I was reading. "Claiming the eastern boundary was improperly surveyed fifty years ago. Says we've been encroaching on his land for decades."
"Can he do that?" Nolan's voice was sharp, his scent spiking with anxiety. "Is there any truth to it?"
"No." I flipped through the pages, my jaw so tight it ached. "My grandfather had these boundaries surveyed three times. Everything is documented. This is bullshit, and Easton knows it."
"Then why?—"
"Because it doesn't matter if he wins." I cut him off, understanding finally clicking into place, cold and horrible. "He just has to make us fight. Legal fees. Court dates. Time spent dealing with lawyers instead of running the ranch. He's not trying to take our land through the courts — he's trying to drown us in paperwork until we can't afford to keep going."
Nolan was quiet for a long moment, his face pale, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides.
"What do we do?" His voice was soft, uncertain — looking to me for answers the way they all did. The way they always did. I didn't have answers. For the first time in years, I didn't know what to do. Couldn't see a path forward that didn't end in disaster.
I couldn't tell him that. Couldn't let him see how close I was to breaking.
