She is making herself look guilty as hell.
"So far, you have managed trespassing, failure to yield to law enforcement, reckless driving, and endangering public safety." I tick off charges like inventory, watching micro-expressions flicker across her face.
"Should I be worried about what other kind of trouble you're bringing to my town?"
Something hot and fierce flares in her eyes, transforming her entire face from frightened girl to fierce woman in the space of a heartbeat. Whatever I said just lit her fuse, and the blaze in her expression sends my pulse into dangerous territory.
"Good thing I was trespassing!" she shoots back, voice rising despite obvious attempts to keep it down. "Good thing I was speeding and breaking all your precious laws, because otherwise this innocent animal would be bleeding out in the woods right now!”
There it is. The real woman hiding beneath blood and exhaustion. She's not impressed by my badge, my size, or the authority I've worn like battle armor for years.
Most people cower when I use that tone. Hell, Marines used to snap to attention.
The fact that she's standing there spitting defiance at me? That does things to my body I have zero business feeling.
"That is enough," Colt says sharply from the examination table, not looking up. "If you two are going to argue, take it to the reception area. You are not helping."
My jaw tightens, but I nod curtly. "Let's go."
The reception area is cozy but professional, all comfortable chairs and soft sounds of animals somewhere in the building. She places the rabbit on the desk with reverent care, then turns to face me, every line of her body angled toward the exit.
Everything about her body language screams runner, but there is steel underneath that fear. The kind that makes her stand straighter despite obviously wanting to disappear.
"Look." I dial back the command voice, aiming for reasonable authority instead of full intimidation. "I get that you were trying to help, but you can'tjust—"
"Can't just what?" She cuts me off mid-sentence, and damn if I don't feel a flicker of admiration for the sheer brass it takes to interrupt a sheriff. "Pretend I didn't see him dying? Walk away and let him bleed out alone?"
"That is not what I—"
"Seems like you are more concerned with your laws than the fact that there is a living creature in there who might have died if I had followed all your rules."
Anger flashes through my chest, hot and immediate. She's hitting pressure points I didn't know existed, challenging me in ways that should trigger every defensive instinct I own.
Instead, they make me want to crowd into her space and find out what other fires burn behind those eyes.
"Protocols exist for a damn good reason." My voice drops to the tone that used to make subordinates think twice about pushing. "When you flee from law enforcement, when you take mountain curves at eighty, you don't just risk yourself. You risk every innocent person who happens to be on that road."
"The only person I endangered was me," she fires back, chin jutting out like she's daring me to argue. "And frankly, that is my choice to make."
"Is it?" I take a deliberate step forward, closing the distance between us until I can smell her. Something clean and wildly feminine threaded with pine and morning air and the faintest hint of fear-sweat.
The scent should ground me. Instead, it scrambles every circuit in my brain and makes me acutely aware that I'm losing my grip on this entire situation.
I don't lose control. It's not in my programming. But this slip of a woman with fire in her eyes and blood on her clothes is systematically dismantling every defense I've spent years building.
"People don't run from cops like their lives depend on it unless they've got secrets worth protecting. And in my experience, those kinds of secrets tend to put other people in danger too." The words land like a physical strike. Color drains from her face. Her hands curl into fists at her sides, knuckles going white with the force of whatever she's holding back.
"You don't know a damn thing about me." The words come out low and shaking, but there's steel underneath the tremor.
"No," I agree, letting my gaze rake over her face like I'm memorizing every detail for a wanted poster.
"I don't. So let's start simple. What 's your name?"
Pure panic flashes across her features. There and gone so fast most people would miss it. But I'm not most people. She hesitates just long enough to confirm every suspicion forming in my head.
"Lucin—" The word trips off her tongue before she can stop it. Her face flames red as she catches herself. "Lucy. Lucy Reid."
I feel my expression sharpen, hunter instincts kicking into high gear. That stumble just told me more about "Lucy Reid" than any background check could.
