The wolfhound ignored him. He pawed at the carrier, claws clicking against the plastic.
“They’re coming back,” Anson said, gripping Bramble’s collar and pulling him away from the carrier. “Easy, bud.”
Bramble planted his feet and resisted, leaning toward the kittens. Another whine escaped him, higher-pitched this time. More distressed.
And when Lila picked up the kittens’ carrier, Bramble’s whine turned into a sharp bark.
Maggie’s chest constricted. She’d never seen him like this. “He thinks we’re taking them away permanently.”
The kittens’ mews echoed from inside the plastic.
Bramble lunged forward, dragging Anson a step before he braced himself. The dog barked again, then dropped his head and pushed his nose against Lila’s hand, trying to get to the carriers.
“Bramble, no.” Anson hauled him back and wrapped an arm around the wolfhound’s chest. “I know. I know you don’t understand.”
Bramble’s ears stayed flat. He made that distressed whine again, and this time it cracked something inside Maggie’s chest.
“This is awful. Maybe they should stay.”
Lila hesitated. “Honestly, I’m not comfortable with that. “Princess is still recovering, and with everything going on...” She trailed off, her eyes flicking toward Anson for support.
“Safer with you,” Anson agreed and stroked Bramble’s neck with gentle reassurance. “Just for now.”
Maggie knelt beside Bramble and took his massive head between her hands. “I promise they’ll be back soon. We just need to make sure everyone’s safe tonight.”
The wolfhound’s eyes fixed on hers, and she swore he understood every word. His resistance softened, but the anxiety remained in the rigid line of his spine, the slight tremor running through his lean body.
“They’ll be back before you know it,” Lila promised, picking up both carriers. “And I’ll text updates.”
“Thank you,” Maggie said, giving Bramble one last reassuring pat before standing.
Lila nodded and headed for the door, carriers in hand. “Lock up tight tonight,” she called over her shoulder, her voice almost lost in the evening wind.
The forge felt emptier immediately—the absence of tiny mews and Princess’s watchful presence creating a hollow space that even the crackling fire couldn’t fill. Bramble stood at the window, tracking Lila’s path across the yard until she disappeared from view.
“Time to go,” Anson said quietly.
Back at her cabin, Maggie stood just inside the doorway with Bramble and watched Anson check all the locks, then the windows, then the bathroom. In the warm yellow light, his face looked carved from stone—jaw set, eyes constantly moving between the windows and the door. She touched his arm and felt the muscles bunch beneath her fingers.
“Are you okay?”
He stilled, his gaze finally landing on her face. She watched him catalog every fear she was trying to hide, every ounce of guilt she felt for bringing this danger to the ranch. His eyes stripped away her defenses like they were nothing but cobwebs.
“I should be asking you that.”
“But I asked you first.”
“No,” he admitted, the word rough. “Won’t be okay until Landry’s dealt with.”
The tension vibrating through his body was almost palpable. She could feel it radiating from him in waves—this fierce protectiveness that seemed to fill every corner of the small cabin.
“And how exactly do you plan to ‘deal with’ him?” she asked carefully.
Anson’s eyes darkened. “However I need to.”
A chill ran through her that had nothing to do with the Montana night. She’d seen that look before—in prison documentaries, in war footage. The flat, deadly calm of a man who’d calculated exactly how far he was willing to go.
“Anson, I can’t let you?—”
