Every minute she was away from me felt like a minute too long.
I kept seeing her face when I told her I would protect her with my own life. The shock. The fear. The way she’d looked at me like she didn’t know what to do with the truth. Like she felt undeserving. It made me want her more.
It felt like we were two halves of the same circle, neither of us feeling good enough. Neither of us feeling worthy of love.
And now this. The ranch. Her parents’ legacy. All gone.
God, what must she be feeling right now?
We pushed through the last stretch, dawn on the horizon, guns drawn, clearing the area around the safe house before we even dismounted. JD signaled the all-clear, and I didn’t waste another second.
I shoved the door open.
Rowan was standing in the middle of the room, arms wrapped around herself, eyes red and distant. The prospect, Eli, Ridge, Levi, and the two older guys I’d sent to protect her, snapped to attention when they saw us, but I barely noticed them. The only thing I saw was her.
And the second her eyes met mine, everything in me went still. She didn’t run to me. She didn’t speak. She just stared like she wasn’t sure I was real.
I crossed the room in three strides. “Rowan.”
Her breath hitched. “Tex…”
I reached for her slowly, giving her every chance to pull away. She didn’t, and then she stepped into me like she’d been holding herself together by sheer force and finally couldn’t anymore.
Her hand fisted in my shirt, her other arm pressed against her chest. Her forehead leaning against my chest. And then she broke. Not loud. Not dramatic. Just a soft, shattered sound that cut straight through me as she cried.
I wrapped my arms around her, holding her tight, one hand cradling the back of her head. “I’m here,” I murmured. “I’m right here.”
She shook against me. “The ranch, it’s all gone.”
“I know.” My voice cracked. “I’m so damn sorry.”
She pulled back just enough to look up at me, tears streaking her cheeks. “It was all I had left of them.”
I cupped her face gently. “You still have them, Rowan. And once this is all over, we’ll rebuild the ranch, and your home.”
Her breath trembled. “Tex, I don’t know how to do this.”
“You don’t have to know,” I said. “You just have to let me stand with you.”
She closed her eyes, leaning into my touch like she was exhausted down to her bones, and I couldn’t blame her. I was exhausted, and I had lived this life before.
Behind us, JD quietly ushered the others outside to give us some space.
I lowered my forehead to hers. “We’ll rebuild. Whatever you want. Whatever you need, and however you need it. I’ll help you put it all back together.”
She swallowed hard. “Why?”
Her eyes opened slowly, searching mine, raw and vulnerable. The door shut behind JD and the others, leaving Rowan and me in a pocket of silence that felt too fragile to touch. I kept my armsaround her until her breathing steadied, until the tremble in her shoulders eased just enough that she could stand on her own.
But I didn’t want to let go of her.
I wanted to tell her how I felt, but how could I do that when I didn’t understand it myself yet?
Moose cleared his throat from the doorway. “Tex,” he said quietly. “We need you.”
Rowan’s fingers tightened in my shirt for a second before she let go. I brushed my thumb along her cheek, a silent promise to come back, and then I stepped away.
The Kings gathered around a makeshift table—an old workbench covered in maps, burner phones, and half-charged radios. JD leaned over the layout of the county, tracing routes with his finger.
