I swallow hard. Throat dry. "Yes. I... heard the crack. Rifle shot. Then the ground disintegrated."
"Did you see who it was?"
"No. Fell before I could turn."
Logan rubs his face, looking ready to punch something. "The eastern ridge. Disputed territory. Ramirez wants it for the resort expansion. The guys on the cliffs don't want anyone breathing their air." He glares with renewed suspicion. "What were you doing up there, Ms. Emerson? Bird watching?"
"I'm a biologist. I was tracking a colony of pine martens. If I find a den, it halts development on that land—the state has strict protections for their habitat. My data is the only thing standing between Ramirez and his resort."
Austin whistles low. "Explains the bullet. You're a walking, talking lawsuit for a lot of rich people in this valley."
"She's not a lawsuit," Tristan snaps. "She's under protection."
Logan turns on Tristan, expression dark. "Is she? Or is she a liability you decided to keep as a pet?"
My stomach drops.Pet.The word hangs in the air, cruel and heavy.
Tristan steps into Logan’s space, chest to chest. Violence radiates off them like a clash of tectonic plates. "Watch your mouth, Pres."
"I'm thinking about the club, Tristan." Logan snarls, holding his ground. "You brought a woman actively being hunted into our safe house. Didn't call it in. Didn't vet her. You just—" He gestures at the bed, at sheets smelling of sex and sweat. "—got distracted."
"I didn't get distracted." Tristan's voice drops to the lethal register from when he first found me. "I was handling the situation."
"Did you vet her?" Logan presses, his harsh whisper cutting the silence. "Or did you just fuck her?"
I flinch. Crude bluntness feels like a slap. I look at Tristan, waiting for him to defend our intimacy.
"I’ve vetted every inch of her," Tristan growls, his voice a low, dangerous vibration. "She’s solid. She’s not a threat to this club, but she is a target. And she’s mine. Every curve, every breath, and the way she tastes—it all belongs to me. Don't look at her again."
Logan stares at Tristan, the silence stretching thin. He sighs and steps back. Tension breaks, but only slightly. "Fine. If she's yours, she's your problem. But if that data protects our land, she’s a tactical advantage. We can't keep her here. If the shooter tracks her to the loft, it brings war to our doorstep. We move her."
"Not yet," Tristan says. "She's not stable enough for transport."
"No choice," Shane interjects quietly. "Town is asking questions. If cops come looking for a missing person and find her in your bed... we all go down for kidnapping."
"I wasn't kidnapped." My voice trembles.
Logan looks at me, expression unreadable. "Doesn't matter what you call it, sweetheart. Matters what it looks like. Right now, it looks like the Broken Halos Road Captain snatched a pretty little scientist off the mountain." He turns back to Tristan. "We verify her story. Austin, laptop. Check permits, see who knew she was on that ridge. Shane, up to the site. Find the shell casing or impact point. I want to know who is taking shots in our backyard."
"And me?"
"You stay on her. Don't let her out of your sight. If she plays us, or makes a run for it and gets killed, it’s on you."
The brothers file out. The steel door remains ajar. Silence rushes back, heavy. Loaded. Tristan stands in the middle of the room, back to me. Shoulders tense. Muscles bunched tight under leather.
"Tristan."
He turns. The mask is back. The gentle giant who worshipped my body is gone. In his place stands the Road Captain. A soldier dealing with a tactical error. "Are you okay?" Perfunctory.
"Am I a pet?" I throw Logan’s word back. "Or a liability? Having trouble keeping track of my status."
He winces. A crack in the armor. He approaches the bed but doesn't sit. Looming. Large. Imposing. "Logan is protective. Assumes the worst. Keeps us alive."
"And what do you assume?" I push up on my elbows, ignoring the throb in my leg. "You told him you 'made sure' I was solid. Is that what last night was? A background check?"
His eyes flash with returning heat, but he damps it down. He leans over, bracing hands on the mattress beside my hips, trapping me. "Don't insult me, Allie. You know what that was."
"Do I?" My heart hammers against my ribs. "Five minutes ago, we were in a bubble. Now I'm a problem you have to 'handle.' A danger to your club."
