Gravel crunched under my boots as I crossed the ranch yard, the afternoon sun beating down on my neck like judgment from above.
Rawley would be pissed—rightfully so. I’d just invited a ghost onto his property without asking permission first. But with Danny’s safety on the line, I’d take Rawley’s anger over Dennis’s threats any day of the week.
The barn doors stood half-open, sunlight slicing through the darkness inside like a knife. I could hear Rawley before I saw him—the methodical scratch of pencil on paper as he tallied inventory, the occasional grunt when something didn’t match his records. The sound was so normal, so everyday, that it almost made me turn around. Why shatter this peace? Why not handle Dennis myself?
But I knew better. Dennis wasn’t just some local bully I could scare off with a black eye and a broken nose. The look in his eyes at the courthouse had been pure, undiluted hatred—the kind that doesn’t respond to reason or threat. The kind that waits for its moment, patient as cancer.
I stepped into the barn, the familiar smell of hay and leather and motor oil wrapping around me. Rawley stood at a workbench near the back, clipboard in hand, counting sacks of feed stacked against the wall. His back was to me, but I knew he’d clocked my arrival the moment my shadow crossed the threshold. Old habits.
“Inventory’s almost done,” he said without turning. “We’re short on fencing wire again. Macon’s been going through it like water fixing the north pasture.”
I stopped a few feet behind him, hands shoved in my pockets to keep them still. “That’s not why I’m here.”
Something in my voice made him turn. Rawley had always been able to read men like books—it’s what made him such a good commander. One look at my face and his expression shifted from relaxed to alert, eyes narrowing as he assessed potential threats.
“What have you done?” he asked, voice low and dangerous.
I met his gaze, refusing to flinch. “I called Sterling.”
The clipboard hit the workbench with a sharp crack. Rawley’s jaw tightened, a muscle jumping beneath the skin. “You did what?”
“He’ll be here at 0300,” I continued, keeping my voice steady. “Landing in the north pasture.”
“Jesus Christ, Burke.” Rawley ran a hand over his face, momentarily looking older than his years. “You called in the one guy even the government pretends doesn’t exist? Without talking to me first?”
I’d expected anger, but what I saw in his eyes was something closer to concern. Not just for the ranch or the others, but for me.
That made it worse somehow.
“Dennis is out on bail,” I said. “You saw him at the courthouse. You heard what he said.”
“Yeah, I did. I also saw the ankle monitor they strapped to his leg, and the way the judge laid out what would happen if he violated the restraining order.” Rawley crossed his arms over his chest. “We’ve got cameras covering every inch of this property. We’ve got three ex-SEALs and enough firepower to start a small war. What exactly do you think Sterling’s going to add to that equation, except more trouble?”
The question hung in the air between us, fair and impossible to answer without admitting what we both already knew: Sterling wasn’t just backup. He was insurance. The kind you hope you never need to cash in.
“Danny’s carrying my child,” I said finally. The words still felt new in my mouth, strange and wonderful and terrifying all at once. “I’m not taking any chances. Not with them.”
Rawley’s expression softened almost imperceptibly. He understood family—had built this whole place around theconcept. Had taken in strays like me and Macon when we had nowhere else to go.
“Is Dennis really that dangerous?” he asked. Not doubting, just assessing.
I thought of the look in Dennis’s eyes at the courthouse, the cold calculation beneath the rage. “I think he sees Danny as his property,” I said slowly. “And now Danny’s carrying my kid. You tell me what an alpha like Dennis might do.”
Rawley knew the answer as well as I did. An alpha like Dennis—possessive, violent, with a chip on his shoulder the size of Montana—wouldn’t just be angry about Danny escaping. He’d see it as theft. As someone taking what belonged to him. And the pregnancy would only make it worse—proof that another alpha had claimed what he considered his territory.
“Sterling isn’t exactly known for his subtlety,” Rawley said after a long silence. “Or his respect for the law.”
“Neither is Dennis,” I pointed out. “Difference is, Sterling’s on our side.”
Rawley snorted. “Sterling’s on Sterling’s side. Always has been.”
“He’s my brother.”
“He’s a weapon, Burke. One with a hair trigger and no safety.”
I couldn’t argue with that. Sterling had been walking the edge for years, taking jobs that would make most operators blanch. There were rumors about him in certain circles—whispered stories about impossible missions and enemy combatants who simply ceased to exist. I didn’t know which ones were true. I wasn’t sure I wanted to.
But I did know one thing: when it came to family, Sterling was as reliable as sunrise. Different planets might orbit around us, but the same blood ran through our veins.
