“Well, if the horse says they’re fine,” Beef muttered, rubbing the back of his neck, “then we’re all fine. I just about died sprinting down that ravine after you.”
“You always think you’re about to die,” Tyler said, nudging him with an elbow.
“That is because I value my life, Tyler, unlike some people who dive off cliffs with their horse like it’s Tuesday.”
Blair didn’t bother hiding her smile. “If you two are done performing the world’s wettest comedy routine, help me get these kids on Jet before we all turn into ice pops.”
“Yes, ma’am,” they said in unison.
Sarah still kept one protective arm around Joshua, but the branch was gone, and the terror had faded into awe as they approached Jet. Blair lifted Joshua first, settling him in front of the saddle, her hands steady on his small frame as he grabbed the pommel with wide, eager eyes.
“You’re riding a legend today,” Blair whispered.
His grin said he believed her.
She lifted Sarah next, settling her behind Joshua, the girl’s arms circling her brother again, this time not from fear but from instinct. Jet adjusted his stance, lowering his head slightly as if offering balance, the massive muscles beneath his coat shifting with patient strength.
Blair mounted behind them, sliding one arm around Sarah to steady them, her other hand gripping the reins. Jet stepped forward, careful and deliberate, and Blair squeezed her calves in encouragement.
“Beef, Tyler,” she called over her shoulder, “secure the scene and follow on foot. Stay alert and check the deadfall for any sign the bear doubled back.” She caught Tyler’s eyes. “Keep that safety off.”
“You got it, Sarge,” Beef replied, still breathing hard as Tyler tipped his hat. “You three get moving. Jet looks like he wants out of here anyway.”
Jet flicked an ear back at him, unimpressed.
Blair guided Jet toward the narrow trail that curved upward along the slope, his massive hindquarters flexing, hooves digging. The forest thinned as they climbed, rain softening into mist, the air turning cool and clean. Jet carried them without hesitation, his stride smooth even on the slick ground, his breath steady and warm against Blair’s calves.
They crested the ridge, and the valley opened beneath them.
There, nestled between two arms of thick evergreen forest, lay the WILD Division Headquarters. The main building rose like a rugged lodge, all timber beams and stonework with a slate roof that glistened under the rain. Smoke spiraled from the chimney of the barracks wing, the scent of cedar and wet earth drifting on the wind. Beyond that, the gym complex stretched out with its corrugated steel roof and wide roll-up doors, and farther still, the barn and corral where the horses sheltered, the paddock lights glowing faintly through the mist.
Trails converged toward the compound from every direction, forming a hub of intelligence, endurance, and raw wilderness capability.
Joshua gasped softly. “This is where you live?”
“Where I work,” Blair corrected, though her voice softened a fraction. “Where you’re about to see a whole lot of people very happy you’re safe.”
Sarah leaned back against Blair for the first time.
Jet carried them down the slope toward home.
The parents rushed across the compound the moment they saw the two children riding in on Jet, their faces pale with terror, then collapsing into relieved sobs as Blair swung down and gathered Joshua into her arms, so his mother could hold him. Sarah stood tall beside her, bravely insisting she was fine until her father knelt and wrapped both arms around her, murmuring shaky thank-yous into her hair.
Blair stepped back, letting the raw emotion spill over in front of her, watching them cling as if afraid the storm might take their children back again. People always seemed surprised by Mounties, the uniform, the quiet authority, the history behind the name, and this pair was no different, breath catching as they whispered to each other that the Royal Canadian Mounted Police had brought their babies home. It warmed something in Blair’s chest, something she rarely let herself feel.
Superintendent Matthew Darrow stepped into the circle like he’d orchestrated the entire rescue, immaculate as always, his uniform untouched by mud or rain. “Glad to see our decision to deploy mounted assets paid off,” he announced, voice loud enough to be heard over the rain and the grateful sobs. “It was the correct strategic call for this terrain. We pride ourselves on innovative response protocols.”
Blair kept her expression neutral, even as resignation burned hot beneath her ribs. Beef shot her a look that said everything he couldn’t say out loud, and Tyler rolled his eyes so hard it was a wonder Darrow didn’t feel the shift in air pressure. Darrow was polished, charming in the way men are who’ve never truly been tested. He wore his authority like a cologne, thick and unnecessary.
She led Jet toward the barn once the parents had been ushered inside for medical checks and warm blankets. Jet was trembling slightly under his soaked coat, a shallow scrape marking his chest where the bear’s claws had raked him. Blair ran a towel gently along his neck, murmuring to him, letting her voice soothe what the adrenaline hadn’t. The crossties creaked as he shifted, leaning lightly into her, his trust anchoring her as much as her touch anchored him.
A low voice slid into the quiet behind her. “You just can’t help yourself. Always circumventing me.”
Blair turned slowly. Darrow stood half in shadow beneath the barn’s overhang, rain running down the immaculate line of his jacket. Something in his eyes, sharp, watchful, meaner than he intended, made her stomach tighten with the old reminder that she once believed this man had integrity.
“One of these days it’s going to bite you in the ass,” he said, stepping closer.
Jet snorted, jerking at the crossties, a low and dangerous sound huffing out of him, a warning. The big gelding planted one hoof, pawed the ground once, and lifted his head high enough that Darrow had to tilt his chin back to keep eye contact.
