Ramirez seems to read my thoughts. “If they’re coming, they’ll need that gate secure. Those wolf-things will be back.”
I nod. “We need to check the fence line first, find any gaps. Then reinforce the gate with something they can’t push through.”
“Fence runs into the water on both sides,” Ramirez says. “Was designed to keep bears out. It’s solid, except for the gate. Chain’s old. If they really wanted in?—”
“They’d get in,” I finish. “So we make it harder. Slow them down enough that we have time to respond. Set up a watch rotation. Two people minimum, armed, rotating every four hours through the night.”
“So we can stay?” Dakota asks. “Work together? Pool resources?”
“Safety in numbers.” Ramirez exchanges a look with his sister, a silent conversation passing between them before heturns back to us and stands, offering his hand. “Let’s get started on that gate.”
I shake, measuring the strength of his grip, the steadiness of his gaze. He’s solid. Capable. The kind of man who’ll have your back when things go sideways.
“I’ve got lumber and tools in the maintenance shed,” Ramirez says. “Could reinforce the gate with cross-beams. Maybe string some cans along the perimeter as an early warning system.”
“Good idea.”
Leo tugs at his mother’s sleeve. “Can I help?”
Maya hesitates, but Ramirez nods. “You can help string the cans, mijo. Good ears and fast feet are important jobs.”
The kid beams and rushes to the door for his boots.
As we prepare to head out, Dakota touches my arm. “I’ll stay and help Maya. Maybe look through supplies, see what we have to work with.”
“Be back soon,” I tell her.
She nods, and for a moment, I see flickers of last night in her eyes—the torch flames, the fear, the kiss. What happens between us now, with daylight stripping away our excuses?
Relationships wouldn’t work.
What if they did?
I strangle the thought before it can take hold.
Focus on the fence. On survival.
Everything else is secondary.
It has to be.
But as I follow Ramirez out the door, the memory of Dakota’s lips against mine burns hotter than any torch.
The fence looks solid enough. Every section checked, no gaps. The gate’s another story. We’ve added a crossbar, reinforced the hinges, doubled the chain. It won’t stop them forever, but it’ll buy us time. Time to grab weapons. Time to think. Time to not die.
Not perfect, but better than we had.
I wipe sweat from my forehead with my arm, muscles loose and warm from the work, and head back toward the cabin just as Dakota steps onto the porch.
“How’s the gate?” She shields her eyes with one hand, hair gathered in a ponytail, and a knife at her hip. Good girl.
“Holding.” I climb the steps, noting the fresh scrapes on her knuckles. “What happened there?”
She glances at her hand, flexing her fingers. “Tried making a snare like Maya showed me. Rope burned.”
“You’re full of surprises.”
“Did you eat?” She points inside. “Maya sent some canned stew.”
