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All of their heads jerk up, and the terrified mewling sound the animal makes has me gagging. I wish that I could text Cade to come and save it, but I can’t put his life in jeopardy. Once the threat is down, then hopefully he can get here before it’s too late.

Gavin’s presence should be enough to make them stop.

They’ve been caught and the jig is up.

But instead of standing down, five guns point at Gavin and the asshole doing the slaughtering doesn’t put the knife down.

“What does it look like we’re doing?”

“Like you’re trespassing and destroying what belongs to me,” Gavin replies.

Somehow, his voice isn’t even shaking, and I’m paralyzed by fear and indecision. Should I shoot them? Distract them so he can shoot them? He’s a lot more likely to actually hit them.

“Put your guns down,” he continues. “You’re all going to jail, and I doubt you want to add years to your sentence.”

But they don’t put the weapons down, and my heart drops to my feet.

He’s outnumbered.

Only one of the men standing in the half-circle around the mostly deadly cow works on the ranch unless I just haven’t seen the others around before.

He must be the informant.

I recognize the others, though, and none of them come as a surprise to me. But what shocks me is the lengths they’d go to in order to – what?

Prove a point? Scare me? Kill me?

Even if it worked, none of those things will turn the clock back. They won’t get their money back. There’s no retribution against my dad by hurting me and he already did his time.

And now he’s dead.

So, what the hell is the point of all this violence?

“You should have just sent the bitch away.”

Emotion clogs my throat, but I refuse to cry or make a sound. I have the element of surprise. They don’t know I’m here and I can shoot them in the back, giving Gavin the time he needs to drop down to safety and shoot whatever ones I can’t get in time.

“Last warning,” Gavin says. “Put the guns down.”

His voice is calm and level despite being badly outnumbered. Meanwhile, I’m doing everything I can to prevent my insides from falling out.

“Fuck you. Hope that bitch’s pussy is worth dying over.”

It’s go time.

I never thought I’d be in a position where I’d have to take the life of another person. And maybe it won’t come down to killing them. Maybe I can just shoot them in the legs. But that would give them enough wiggle room to get off their own shots that could kill Gavin.

They’re all hunters.

All better shots than me.

And they’re highly motivated by this game of cat and mouse they’ve been playing.

I need to go for body shots. I won’t hit their heads. But I can hit their chests. Their stomachs. I can pull the trigger over and over, and whether I get kill shots or not, they’ll bleed out. Like the cow they’re killing.

And my finger is just itching to do it.

For my dad.