Page 24

As the guys pack, I finish with my own gear, throwing it into the truck.

“I’m just gonna hit the ladies room before we get on the road.”

I make my way down the narrow corridor, thankful for a moment to myself. The bathroom's fluorescent lights flicker as I push through the door. I splash some cold water on my face, trying to wash away the exhaustion that's settled deep in my bones.

The door creaks open behind me. I glance up in the mirror and freeze.

Marcus Reid.

"Well, well. The little rodeo princess is all alone." His voice drips with something dark and twisted.

I spin around, backing up until my hip hits the sink. "What the fuck do you want?"

"Just making sure you got the message." He steps closer, towering over me. "Apparently, you and your boys are slow learners."

Before I can react, his fist connects with my side—right where the bull got me with Colt. Pain explodes through my body, stealing my breath. I double over in pain.

I gasp, trying not to scream as my vision blurs with tears. The stitches. Fuck, I think he's ripped them.

"I suggest you and your boys take the hint," he growls, his breath hot on my face.

Through the haze of pain, something clicks. I straighten up as much as I can, staring him down.

"You think you can get away with this?" My voice barely sounds like my own.

His laugh is like broken glass. "It's amazing what a small tug and a little money can do."

Horror floods through me, colder than any ice.

"Get the fuck away from me," I spit.

He grabs my arm hard enough to bruise, twisting until I can't hold back a whimper. "This is just the beginning, sweetheart. Next time, it won't be just a punch."

I wrench away, adrenaline masking the pain as I push past him. My side throbs with each step, but I force myself to keep moving. Don't look back. Just get to the guys.

By the time I reach them, I'm shaking. Blood seeps through my shirt, warm and sticky against my skin.

"Willow? Jesus Christ, what happened?" Rhett's at my side in an instant, his hands gentle as they hover over the stain spreading across my shirt.

The words tumble out between ragged breaths. "Marcus. He cornered me in the bathroom. Said it was a message."

Logan's face goes dark. "That motherfucker.”

"He's gone already," I say, wincing as Rhett gently lifts my shirt to check the damage. "He admitted it. The sabotage. Said it was amazing what a small tug and some money could do."

"Son of a bitch," Weston growls, pacing like a caged animal. "I'll fucking kill him."

Rhett's face is stone, but his hands are gentle as they probe my side. "You're bleeding. The stitches are torn."

I can't stop the tears now. They come hot and fast, not just from the pain but from the violation of it all. This asshole thinks he can just hurt my family and get away with it?

Rhett gently takes my arm, leading me to his truck. He sits me in the front seat, lifting my shirt.

"This looks bad, Wills." His voice is soft, but his eyes are fire. "We need to get you patched up."

I nod, trying to breathe through the pain. My shirt sticks to the wound, and when Rhett peels it away, I bite my lip to keep from crying out.

Kade hands him the first aid kit, hovering nearby like he doesn't trust himself to stay calm. "How bad?"

"Three stitches ripped. Fucking bastard knew exactly where to hit her." Rhett's voice is controlled, but I can feel the fury radiating off him in waves.

His hands shake as he tries to open the first aid kit. Levi carefully steps in, taking the kit from him.

“I got her.”

Rhett steps back, hands balled into fists, knuckles white with restraint. His face is a storm of rage barely contained. I know that look. It's the one that comes right before someone gets hurt.

"We should go to the hospital," Weston says, peering over Levi's shoulder at my side.

I shake my head. "No hospitals. Just patch me up."

"Willow—" Rhett starts.

"No." My voice is firmer than I feel. "He wants us rattled. Wants us to forfeit. I'm not giving that asshole what he wants."

Levi works silently, cleaning the wound with steady hands. Every touch is fire, but I grit my teeth and bear it. The guys hover around me like anxious shadows, a protective circle that makes my chest ache with something besides pain.

"This is gonna hurt," Levi warns, threading a needle. "No time for anesthetic."

I nod, gripping the seat. "Just do it."

The first stitch feels like a hot poker, and I bite down on a scream. Rhett's hand finds mine, and I squeeze so hard I worry about breaking bones. He doesn't flinch.

"Almost done," Levi murmurs, working with surprising speed. "One more."

By the time he's finished, I'm drenched in sweat, trembling. Rhett helps me change into a clean shirt from my bag, his movements careful, eyes never meeting mine. I know that look. He's barely holding it together.

"Let's get the fuck out of here," Logan says, scanning the parking lot like he's expecting Marcus to appear.

We pile into our vehicles, the guys silent for once. No bullshit talk, no jokes. Just the heavy weight of what happened hanging in the air.

We make it to the hotel in record time. I'm barely out of Rhett's truck before the guys are surrounding me again, like a wall between me and the rest of the world.

"We're not leaving you alone tonight," Kade declares, with no room for argument in his voice.

I don't have the energy to fight it. Truth is, I don't want to be alone. Not after what happened.

"My room, then," I say, leaning against Rhett as we walk through the lobby. "It's got the most space."

None of us want to split up. Not tonight. Without discussion, they all follow me into my room. Weston grabs extra pillows and blankets from housekeeping. Levi checks the locks twice.

We pile into my room like a herd of wounded animals seeking shelter. Levi orders pizza while Logan and Weston arrange the furniture to make sleeping spots.

Rhett's hand hasn't left my back since we walked in, that steady pressure keeping me grounded. I'm not sure which one of us needs the contact more.

The pizza arrives, but I can barely eat. Every movement pulls at my fresh stitches, and the pain meds Levi scrounge up haven't fully kicked in yet. I force down a slice anyway, knowing I'll need the strength.

"I'm calling Colt," Kade announces, his phone already out. "He needs to know."

Nobody argues. Kade puts the call on speaker, and Colt's voice fills the room, tired but alert despite the late hour.

"Everything okay?" he asks immediately.

Kade's eyes find mine across the room. "No. Marcus Reid cornered Wills today. Got her alone in the bathroom."

The silence on the other end is deadly. When Colt speaks again, his voice is so tight it could snap.

"Did he hurt you?"

My side throbs in answer. "Ripped my stitches. Levi patched me up."

"Sonofabitch." The word explodes from him. "I'm coming there—"

"No." My voice is sharper than I intended. "You need to heal, Colt. We need you at a hundred percent."

"He put his hands on you, Willow."

"And we're handling it," Kade interjects, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Focus on getting better. We've got her."

I can practically hear Colt grinding his teeth through the phone. "What exactly did that piece of shit say?"

I swallow hard, the memory making my stomach turn. "He admitted to sabotaging Jace's ride.”

“I fucking saw. If I was there I would have knocked that bull fighter to the ground.”

"We know, Wildcard." Rhett's voice is calm, but I can see the tension in his shoulders, the way his jaw ticks with barely contained rage. "We're not letting this go."

"Put me on video," Colt demands. "I want to see her face."

Kade switches to FaceTime, and Colt's worried face fills the screen. His eyes narrow when he sees me, taking in the pallor of my skin, the tight lines around my mouth from the pain.

"Jesus, Wills." His voice softens. "You look like shit."

I manage a weak smile. "Thanks. You're looking pretty rough yourself."

It's true. The bruises on his face have deepened to purple, and he's got dark circles under his eyes. But it's the fury in them that catches me—raw and unfiltered.

"I should be there.”

I shake my head. “No. You are where you need to be. There’s nothing you can do in your state anyway. Let your body heal or you’ll have to deal with me.”

A ghost of a smile flickers across his face. "You know I'm coming back as soon as I can, right? Doctor's orders be damned."

"I know." And I do. Nothing keeps Colt down for long. "Just focus on getting better so you can fight when it counts."

The guys all laugh at that, the tension in the room easing just a fraction. It feels good to hear them laugh, even if it's short-lived.

"We got this, brother," Logan adds, leaning into the camera view. "We stick together, watch each other's backs. No one gets left alone."

Colt nods, but I can see the frustration eating at him. He hates being sidelined, especially now.

"Keep me updated. Every fucking detail." His eyes find mine again. "And Willow? Don't do anything stupid. No heroics."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah.”

I roll my eyes, but there's comfort in his overprotectiveness. "I'll be careful."

"I mean it, Wills." His voice drops, serious in a way Colt rarely is. "These bastards aren't playing fair."

"I know." My side throbs in agreement. "We'll call tomorrow."

After we hang up, the room falls into a heavy silence. I can see the wheels turning in everyone's heads, plotting revenge, calculating risks. The protective energy is suffocating, even if it's coming from a place of love.

"I need a shower," I announce, needing some space to breathe.

Rhett's eyes snap to mine, concern evident. "You sure that's a good idea with fresh stitches?"

"I'll be careful. Just need to wash this day off me." The feeling of Marcus's hands on me lingers like a stain, like a shadow I can't shake.

I limp to the bathroom, waving off offers of help. I need a minute alone, just one minute to let the mask slip without them seeing how much this really rattled me.

The bathroom door clicks shut behind me, and I lean against it, letting out a shaky breath. The mirror shows a stranger—pale, eyes too wide, a smear of dried blood on my neck I hadn't even noticed. I look exactly like what I am: prey.

"Fuck that," I whisper to my reflection.

I carefully peel off my shirt, wincing as it sticks to the fresh bandage. Levi did a good job with the stitches, but the area around them is already blooming purple. Marcus knew exactly where to hit to cause maximum damage.

The shower is a challenge. I keep the water tepid, trying not to get the bandage too wet.

By the time I emerge, wrapped in a towel with my hair dripping down my back, I feel marginally more human. The guys have rearranged the room, creating makeshift beds out of couch cushions and extra blankets.

"Feel better?" Rhett asks, his eyes tracking my movements like he's afraid I might collapse.

"A little." I grab my sleep shorts and another T-shirt from my bag. "Turn around, pervs."

They dutifully face the wall while I change, though I catch Rhett's eyes lingering a second too long before he turns. The shirt is loose enough not to press on my side, small mercies.

"All clear," I announce, easing myself onto the edge of the bed.

The pain meds are finally kicking in, making everything soft around the edges. I watch through heavy lids as the guys settle in for the night.

Levi and Jace on the pull out couch, Knox on the two chairs pushed together, while Kade and Logan are camped out on the floor. Weston takes the cushions off the small armchair, arranging them on the floor by the door like he's appointing himself sentry.

"Anyone want the bathroom before I turn out the lights?" I ask, trying not to sound as wiped out as I feel.

Weston waves a hand. "We're good. Get some rest, Wills."

Rhett's already sitting on the side of the bed, his weight making the mattress dip. There's something comforting about his solid presence, like an anchor in rough waters.

I slide under the covers, careful not to jostle my side too much. The pain meds make everything fuzzy, but I'm still hyper-aware of Rhett as he settles in beside me, keeping a careful distance.

"Stop being weird and just hold me," I mutter, too tired to dance around what we both want.

His arm slides around me, gentle but secure, pulling me against his chest. His heart beats steady under my ear.

“You sure Knox isn’t gonna kill me in my sleep? I’m in bed with his baby sister.”

“It’s a good possibility, cowboy.”

I can feel him smile against my hair. "I've survived worse odds."

"Shut up, both of you," Knox grumbles from his makeshift bed. "I’m trying to not think about your dirty hands on my innocent sister."

Weston snorts. “Yeah, innocent. That’s one word I wouldn’t use to describe Wild Willow.”

I toss a pillow across the room, hitting Weston square in the face. "Shut your mouth, West. I'm a goddamn angel."

“So was Lucifer.”

"You wanna talk about that time in Tulsa when I caught you with the twins?" I threaten, and the room erupts in "oohs" like we're back in middle school.

"Low blow, Hayes," Weston grumbles, but I can hear the smile in his voice.

"Everyone shut up and go to sleep," Logan groans. "We've got a long day tomorrow, and I need my beauty sleep."

"Not even a lifetime of beauty sleep could help that ugly mug," Kade mutters, earning a pillow to the face from Logan's direction.

The room settles into comfortable silence after that, punctuated only by the soft sounds of breathing and the occasional snore from Logan.

"I love you guys," I murmur, the words slipping out before the pain meds can filter my thoughts.

A chorus of gruff "love you too's" and "go to sleep, sap" echo around the room. I smile into the darkness, letting my eyes drift closed.

Rhett's arm tightens around me, careful to avoid my injured side. His lips brush against my temple, so light I almost think I imagined it.

"You scared the shit out of me today," Rhett whispers, his breath warm against my hair.

"Join the club," I murmur back, my words slurring slightly from the meds. "Didn't exactly plan on getting jumped in the bathroom."

His arm tightens around me fractionally. "I should've gone with you."

"And followed me into the ladies' room? That would've been a great headline."

He doesn't laugh like I hoped he would. Instead, his fingers trace gentle patterns on my arm, barely touching. "I'm serious, Willow. I…”

I can feel him struggling for words, something Rhett Calloway rarely does. I wait, letting him find his way through whatever's caught in his throat. I can feel the weight of what he's not saying.

"I know," I whisper, because I do. The unspoken thing between us has always been there, like a live wire neither of us quite dares to touch. "But I'm okay. We're okay."

"I can't lose you," he finally whispers, so quiet I almost miss it. "Not again."

The words hang, heavy with history we've never fully unpacked. I turn my face toward his, our noses almost touching in the darkness.

"You won't," I promise, though we both know it's not something I can guarantee. Not in this life we've chosen.

His hand comes up to cup my face, thumb tracing my cheekbone. "Get some sleep, Wild Thing."

I close my eyes, letting the medication pull me under, feeling safer than I have any right to feel with a target on my back.

M orning comes too early, sunlight stabbing through the crack in the curtains like an accusation. I wake to find Rhett still wrapped around me, his face relaxed in sleep in a way it never is when he's awake. For a moment, I just watch him, cataloging the lines of his face, the shadow of stubble along his jaw.

A soft snore from the floor reminds me we're not alone. I carefully extract myself from Rhett's arms, wincing as the movement pulls at my stitches. The pain is duller today, but still there, a constant reminder of what happened.

The guys are scattered around the room like fallen soldiers, limbs hanging off makeshift beds, faces buried in pillows. Knox is already awake, sitting in the chair by the window with his phone in hand.

"Morning," he whispers when he sees me up. "How's the side feeling?”

“Eh, sore. But not the worst injury I’ve ever had.”

"Not everything is a competition, you know. Even pain." My brother's face is serious, the same expression he wore when we were kids and I'd come home with scraped knees and busted lips, refusing to cry.

"Yeah, well." I shrug, wincing again. "If it was, I'd be winning."

He doesn't smile. "We need to talk about what happens next."

"What happens next is breakfast," Rhett's sleep-rough voice interrupts from behind me. "And coffee. Lots of coffee."

The others start stirring at the sound of our voices, groaning and stretching like a litter of overgrown puppies. Logan's hair is sticking up in about fifteen different directions, and Kade has a pillow crease running down one side of his face.

"Food," Weston mumbles, his eyes still closed. "Need food."

Forty-five minutes later, we're all crammed into a booth at the diner across from the hotel, demolishing a mountain of pancakes and enough bacon to put a dent in the local pig population. I'm wedged between Rhett and Knox, trying not to wince every time I reach for my coffee.

"We need to call Colt," Kade says through a mouthful of eggs. "Update him on the plan."

I raise an eyebrow. "What plan? Because last I checked, we don't have one besides 'show up and ride bulls.'"

"The plan," Logan says, leaning forward, "is to stick together. No one goes anywhere alone. Not to the bathroom, not to get food, nowhere."'

Rhett nods, his thigh pressed against mine under the table. "And we keep our eyes open. Marcus isn't working alone. Someone’s paying off the bullfighters, maybe others."

"We need to find out who," Jace adds, pushing his empty plate away. "Marcus is the face, but someone's bankrolling this operation."

My phone buzzes on the table. Colt's name flashes on the screen, and I swipe to answer, putting him on speaker.

"Morning, Wildcard. We were just about to call you."

"How's the side?" He skips the pleasantries, his voice tight with worry.

"Still attached. Hurts less today." I ignore Rhett's skeptical side-eye. "We're heading back to the arena after breakfast."

"And you've got a plan for not getting jumped again?" Colt growls.

"The plan is to stick together," Knox answers.

"Yeah, we're not letting each other out of sight," Kade adds, stabbing a piece of pancake with unnecessary force. "Especially not Willow."

I roll my eyes. "I don't need seven babysitters."

"After yesterday?" Rhett's voice drops low. "Yeah, you do."

I want to argue, but my throbbing side reminds me I'm not exactly in fighting shape. "Fine. But I draw the line at you guys following me into the bathroom."