I nod just as Ava gets to us.
“Ava Morgan. Nice to meet you,” she smiles, holding her hand out.
Addison’s shaky hand envelops hers. “The pleasure is all mine. I’m a huge fan.”
Ava is gracious enough to offer her a hug. Addison turns crimson, mouthing “Oh my God” over Ava’s shoulder. I giggle watching the interaction with amusement. I knew she’d get a kick out of learning who Ava Noa really is, and I was not wrong.
The moment is interrupted by the familiar sound of boots on wood. Ryder walks in, broad shoulders filling the space without effort. Addison pulls away from Ava’s hug and stiffens instinctively. His gaze flicks to her, and they hold eye contact for a long beat. There’s no warmth or hostility, just recognition. Two people who understand the cost of being hunted.
Addison clears her throat. “Thank you for your help getting me here.”
Ryder doesn’t answer with words—he inclines his head once, and that’s as close as he gets to introductions.
Addison huffs softly. “God, Kate, of course you fell for the silent one.”
“Addison,” I warn, mortified.
Beck snorts. “Oh, I like her already.”
Ryder’s eyes shift to Beck, and the culprit immediately raises his hands. “What? I’m behaving.”
Ryder steps closer to me instead, his hand brushing my lower back briefly—grounding and possessive all at once. The gesture is small, almost unconscious, but it sends a pulse of heat through me anyway.
Addison notices, and her brows lift in pure disbelief.
I ignore her, and instead, I turn to Ryder, my voice softer. “Thank you.”
His gaze sharpens. “For what?”
“For making sure she got home.”
Something tightens in his jaw, like gratitude makes him uncomfortable. “It was necessary,” he replies.
Before I can argue, Jace speaks up. “We need to start talking strategies. Hassan will be upon us soon, and we need to be ready.”
Addison’s shoulders square again—journalist turned survivor. “I told you I didn’t want to bring trouble to you guys by leading them here.”
Quinn’s smile is sharp as she responds. “Honey, this ranch was built for trouble.”
Addison looks like she doesn’t believe her, but she doesn’t have a choice.
Everyone gets to planning, and I stand there, between my best friend and the man who has become my impossible heartbeat, surrounded by a family that moves like a unit when war comes knocking. Hassan Yusuf Barre wanted to send a message, and he succeeded, but Iron Stallion is already writing one back, and the war is no longer approaching.
It’s here, and we’ll be ready for it.
28
RYDER
The armory is below the main house, behind reinforced steel and coded locks, a room that exists because Morgans don’t pretend danger isn’t real.
When I step inside, everyone is already here. Zane, broad as an oak, loading magazines with the same calm he uses to saddle a horse. Jace is beside him, expression carved from stone, movements efficient and clinical—Ranger discipline that never left him.
Beck is standing near the weapons rack, restless energy vibrating under humor that doesn’t quite land today. Dad sits at the table like a king who has seen too many battles to beimpressed by another one, his rifle laid in front of him as naturally as a coffee cup.
Today, Cole Dawson stands with us as well, shoulders squared, jaw tight. He’s not a Morgan by blood but one by choice, by marriage, and by the simple fact that anyone who threatens Ella threatens him.
He meets my gaze without flinching, earning my respect.
