I hold. I don’t know how, but I do.
Brutus lands and immediately spins, trying to catch me off-balance from the recovery. I move with him, barely, my body operating on pure instinct now because my brain checked out about three seconds into this nightmare.
The crowd is a distant roar. The buzzer sounds.
Eight seconds.
Eight fucking seconds that felt like eight years.
Relief crashes through me so hard it nearly knocks me loose. My body wants to go limp, wants to collapse, wants to surrender to the exhaustion and pain that’s been building with every passing heartbeat.
Not yet. Not until I’m clear.
I wait for Brutus to buck again, use the upward motion to push myself off his back, release the rope I’d been gripping for dear life, and hit the dirt running. My legs feel like they’re filled with fire instead of muscle. My forearm is completely numb from the elbow down. But I’m moving, I’m upright, and I’m getting distance between myself and the animal who just tried to destroy me.
Brutus kicks and struts across the arena, clearly pleased with himself. His head tosses, snorting at the crowd, and I swear he’s taking a victory lap even though he lost. That’s Brutus. Win or lose, he owns the room.
The crowd is going absolutely berserk. I climb up and over the enclosure and head to the announcer. I grab the microphone from him.
“Ladies and gentlemen!” My voice is ragged, rough, barely recognizable as human. I don’t care. The adrenaline is still pumping, the crowd is still roaring, and I have something to say.
“Let me be clear about something.” I turn to face Brutus, who’s now standing in the center of the arena, watching me with those dark, intelligent eyes. “I didn’t win today. He did.”
The crowd murmurs, confused.
“This bull right here,” I continue, gesturing at Brutus, “is the most incredible animal I’ve ever had the privilege of riding. Ninety-seven percent buck-off rate. Years of dominance. A legend in every sense of the word.”
Brutus snorts, as if agreeing.
“I stayed on for eight seconds. That’s all, and let me tell you, those were the longest eight seconds of my life.” I laugh, still shaking, still riding the high. “So when you go home tonight, when you tell people about what you saw, make sure you’re telling the right story. This wasn’t about me conquering Brutus. This was about Brutus letting me survive.”
The crowd erupts again, louder than before. They’re cheering for the bull now, cheering for the legend, giving him the recognition he deserves.
“Welcome back, Brutus!” I shout into the microphone. “The rodeo has missed you, you beautiful, terrifying bastard!”
Brutus tosses his head, grunts, and resumes his parade around the arena. The handlers have given up trying to wrangle him. They’re just letting him have his moment, watching with amix of amusement and terror as the black menace struts past the cheering crowd.
I drop the microphone and turn toward the rails.
My body is screaming at me now. Every muscle aches, every joint protests, and my forearm is starting to throb as feeling returns to it. I can feel blood soaking through my glove, can feel bruises forming on bruises, can feel the exhaustion trying to drag me down.
But my pack is waiting for me.
June reaches me first. She throws herself over the rail, not waiting for me to come to her, and suddenly she’s in my arms, her body pressed against mine, her face buried in my neck.
“You did it,” she’s saying, over and over.
I hold her tight, breathless. Seth and Carter are there a second later, and then it’s all of us, tangled together at the edge of the arena while ten thousand people continue to lose their minds. Carter is slapping my back hard enough to leave marks. Seth is gripping my shoulder with the kind of intensity that says he was more worried than he’ll ever admit.
“That was insane,” Carter states. “Literally insane. I swear I had three heart attacks watching you.”
“Only three?” I manage, forcing a crooked grin. “I had at least seven.”
“You’re never doing that again,” June says, and when she pulls back to look at me, her eyes are wet. Not drama. Real fear. The kind that crawls under your ribs and stays there. “Never. Do you understand me?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“I mean it, Kai.” Her voice wobbles on my name. “My heart can’t take it.”
