Total pages in book: 25
Estimated words: 23649 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 118(@200wpm)___ 95(@250wpm)___ 79(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 23649 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 118(@200wpm)___ 95(@250wpm)___ 79(@300wpm)
The place is a wreck.
Chairs overturned. Drawers ripped open. My rifle is still locked in its cabinet, but the air is thick with something primal. A warning.
My pulse pounds in my ears as I spot the note on the counter. The paper shakes in my grip as I read the words in her careful, slanted handwriting.
"I won’t let him take you down with me."
I crumple the paper in my fist, my vision going red. Hell. No. She’s mine. Mine to protect. Mine to keep safe. She thinks she can just walk away? She thinks I’d let her?
I exhale slowly, forcing control over the animal inside me. Something doesn’t sit right with me–this feels orchestrated–like a deliberate plan to throw me off. I’ve tracked poachers through these woods, hunted predators that stalked too close to my land. But nothing—nothing—has ever mattered as much as finding Palmer. And when I do? She’ll learn the hard way what it means to belong to me. I’ll lock her in this fucking cabin if that’s what it takes to keep her safe–and I’ll kill any man that tries to take her from me.
The first thing I check is her closet—if you could call it that. Half her clothes are still here. Her shoes, the soft sweaters she brought from the city. That means she left in a hurry. Or she didn’t plan to be gone long. I find her scent near the door—fresh. Recently disturbed. She didn’t leave on foot. I check the driveway, scanning for tire marks.
Someone picked her up.
A truck. And not mine. My hands clench into fists, but I shove the fury down. Focus.
I kneel, dragging my fingers through the gravel, tracing the way the tracks angle toward the main road.
Too clean. Not a local. Someone careful. Someone who knew what they were doing. Whoever took her was trying to cover their damn tracks.
I exhale through my nose, standing slowly.
Fine. Let them try to hide. I’ll still find her. I’ll hunt my Treasure to the ends of this Earth if that’s what it takes.
I grab my phone, dialing the one man who’ll understand the way my blood is boiling, the way my instincts are roaring.
Ridge Warner picks up on the first ring.
“What’s wrong?”
“She’s gone.” My voice is nothing more than a low growl.
Silence. Then, “Tell me.”
I tell him everything in clipped, sharp sentences. The ransacked cabin. The note. The tracks leading away.
Ridge doesn’t hesitate. “I’m on my way.”
Good. Because if there’s one thing I know about the Warner brothers, it’s that they don’t let anyone take what’s theirs.
And neither do I.
I hit the road on my ATV, the engine snarling through the trees as I follow the barely visible tracks cutting through the forest. Palmer’s smart. She wouldn’t have gone willingly.
But she’s also too damn self-sacrificing.
Thinking she’s protecting me. Thinking I won’t burn the world down to get her back. The tracks veer toward the highway, and my jaw tightens.
Someone took her out of Devil’s Peak.
I know where they’re headed. And I know who’s behind this. Malcolm Sullivan. Her no-good ex. The bastard who made her flinch at shadows. The reason she checks the locks twice every night. The man who made my woman afraid. Rage surges through me like wildfire. If he thinks he’s won, he’s about to learn what it means to lose.
I track them to an old hunting cabin two hours outside of town. A place off the grid.
The moment I kill the engine, I hear it.
A sharp cry. Palmer. I don’t think. I don’t hesitate. I move.
Boots crunching on gravel, breath even, heart steady. I approach the cabin, my knife strapped to my thigh, my gun resting against my palm. A single guard outside—the neighbor hunting in the woods the day after Palmer arrived—fucking traitor.
I take him out fast and quiet, pressing the barrel of my pistol to his temple as I whisper, “Make a sound, and I’ll bury you here.”
The guy trembles. I knock him out cold. Inside, I hear a stranger’s voice.
Smooth. Smug.
“You really thought you could run from me, Palmer? You thought he wouldn’t find out who you are? That your daddy owns half of the eastern seaboard—all the hotels and casinos with your family name on them? He must be an idiot—and you are too if you thought you could outrun me and your family legacy.”
My fingers tighten on the grip of my gun. Then her voice cuts through the air. Strong. Fierce.
“I don’t care about any of that. I’m never coming back to you, Malcolm. I don’t care what my last name is or yours—I’ll change my name if that’s what it takes. I don’t want that life, I never did. It only ever mattered to you, I just wanted to make beautiful jewelry and leave a simple life. Please, you have to stop this.”