"I've been handling things on my own for a long time," I admitted. "It's going to take some getting used to."
Harlow nodded, understanding in his expression. "Know what you mean. Always been me and my family, nobody else. This is new for me too."
That simple acknowledgment—that we were both navigating unfamiliar territory—eased something in me that I hadn'trealized was tense. Neither of us had a roadmap for this, but we were finding our way together.
"Thank you," I said softly, "for speaking up in the kitchen today. For not letting your mother dismiss what's between us."
His free hand came up to touch my face, fingers surprisingly gentle against my cheek. "Wasn't going to let anyone say my feelings aren't real," he replied, a hint of fierceness in his tone. "Not even Ma."
I leaned into his touch, marveling at how natural it felt despite how new it was. "I'm proud of you," I told him, meaning it with every fiber of my being. "Standing up for yourself like that takes courage."
Even in the darkness, I could see his cheeks flush at the praise. "Easier with you beside me," he murmured.
The confession tugged at something deep in my chest. I reached up to cover his hand with mine, turning my face slightly to press a kiss against his palm. His breath hitched audibly, the sound sending a surge of heat through me that had nothing to do with the temperate night.
"Harlow," I started, not entirely sure what I wanted to say but feeling the need to put words to the swelling emotion in my chest.
Before I could continue, sudden brightness cut through the darkness as headlights swept across the driveway, illuminating us in harsh white light. We both squinted against the glare, instinctively stepping apart though our hands remained linked.
An unfamiliar truck had pulled up at the edge of the property where the McKenzie driveway met the main road. It idled there, engine rumbling in the quiet night, its high beams pointed directly at us. I couldn't make out the driver through the glare, but the message was clear enough—we were being watched.
The engine revved once, an aggressive sound that cut through the peaceful night like a warning shot. Then the truckpeeled away, tires spitting gravel as it accelerated down the main road, taillights receding rapidly into the darkness.
Harlow's grip on my hand tightened painfully, his massive body suddenly rigid beside me. "They're watching us," he whispered, his earlier confidence replaced by a fear that made my stomach clench. "And now they know you told us everything."
I stared after the disappearing taillights, adrenaline surging through my system as the reality of the danger crystallized. This wasn't just about me anymore. By involving the McKenzies, I'd potentially put them all in the crosshairs—especially Harlow.
Without thinking, I shifted slightly, positioning myself between Harlow and the direction the truck had gone, despite knowing that his broad frame dwarfed mine. The protective gesture was instinctive, almost comical given our size difference, but I couldn't help it. The thought of Harlow being targeted because of his connection to me made something primal and fierce rise in my chest.
"We need to get back to the house," I said, my voice dropping into the professional tone I used during crisis situations. "Tell your brothers what just happened."
Harlow nodded, but made no move to turn back. Instead, he gently repositioned us so that we stood side by side, his arm coming around my shoulders in a gesture that was both protective and defiant.
"Together," he said firmly. "Not with you trying to shield me or me trying to shield you. Together."
The simple wisdom of his words cut through my instinctive reaction. He was right—neither of us could face this threat by trying to protect the other at our own expense. The only way forward was partnership, each contributing our strengths.
"Together," I agreed, leaning briefly against his solid frame before straightening. "Let's get back and tell the others. They need to know the timeline just accelerated."
As we hurried back up the driveway toward the farmhouse lights, I found myself processing what had just happened. The appearance of that truck changed everything. Whoever was running the poaching operation now knew that their secret wasn't safe, that I'd shared what I knew with the McKenzies. They would either abandon their operation entirely—unlikely given the profits involved—or move quickly to eliminate the threat we posed.
Either way, the careful planning we'd done around the kitchen table was now obsolete. We needed a new approach and we needed it fast. The stakes had just risen considerably.
Yet oddly, despite the clear escalation of danger, I felt more centered than I had in months. Part of it was having a concrete threat to face rather than shadowy suspicions. But most of it was the solid presence of Harlow beside me, and the knowledge that behind him stood a family whose protection now apparently extended to include me.
For the first time since my brakes had failed on that winding back road, I wasn't fighting this battle alone.
And that made all the difference.
Chapter Thirteen
~ Harlow ~
I sat at the kitchen table, watching the clock's hands creep toward midnight while Knox laid out hand-drawn maps of our northwest property line. The truck that had lit us up in its high beams less than an hour ago had changed everything. No more careful planning over days. We needed to act fast.
Ransom's fingers drummed against the wood, the tattoos on his forearms shifting with each impatient tap, while Dan's calm voice walked us through what equipment we'd need.
"Three teams," Knox said, tracing routes on the map with his index finger. "Two-hour rotation schedule. Dan's got night vision gear we can borrow from the department."
