“Five,” he agreed.
And for those five stolen minutes, the world stayed outside the cabin.
No Thomas.
No fear.
Just warmth, closeness, and the quiet certainty that whatever came next—we weren’t facing it alone.
18
Thomas
Thomas Thorn hated small towns.
Too many windows.
Too many people who thought they knew each other.
Too many places for someone to disappear.
He stood across the street from the new sheriff’s office, hands tucked into the pockets of his coat, watching the building like it might flinch under his stare. Morning light crept across the quiet street, soft and harmless-looking.
Deceptive.
“Nothing?” he muttered.
Beside him, Marco shook his head slightly. “Sheriff’s daughter never came home. No movement overnight. No lights. No panic.”
Thomas’s jaw tightened.
She should have been scared by now.
Rylie had always been predictable—too kind, too cautious, too desperate to keep the peace. That was why he’d chosen her. Why he thought she’d fold?
He hadn’t counted onhim.
The Ranger.
Eli “Trigger” Jennings.
Thomas’s fingers curled into a fist as the name surfaced. He could still see the way Trigger had looked at him in the church parking lot—calm, unreadable, like Thomas wasn’t a threat worth acknowledging.
Men like that were always the problem.
“They’re not in town,” Thomas said slowly.
Marco glanced at him. “You sure?”
“She wouldn’t run far,” Thomas replied. “Not without thinking someone would get hurt because of it.”
Marco hesitated. “Unless she had help.”
That earned him a sharp look.
“Don’t,” Thomas snapped. “She’s not brave enough to plan this.”
But even as he said it, doubt crept in.
