Page 83 of Chaos (The Serenity Ranch #2)

He doesn’t have time to tie her up somewhere, the only foolproof way to ensure she won’t follow him into a burning building.

God, he wishes he’d made some.

Ruin has barely slowed to a canter before I dismount, my feet hitting the ground hard before I take off at a run towards the smoking, flaming barn.

Hot on my heels, I hear Finn yell, and I glance over my shoulder to see him gesturing angrily towards the house. “Call for help.”

I start to protest only for my own name to cut me off, a bark of it and a gruff, “I’ll get the horses.”

By himself? “You can’t—”

“Do not argue with me. Go .”

A frustrated noise scratches my throat, but I do as he says, speeding up as I swerve away from the smoking barn.

The front door slams against the wall as I burst through it.

I almost break my damn neck as I take the stairs to my bedroom two at a time, almost dropping my phone more than once as I grab it off my dresser and frantically dial every number I can think of.

Only emergency services answer, and I suppose that’s going to have to be good enough because I don’t have time to keep trying everyone else.

I barrel back outside only to come up short at the sight of the barn, not just smoking now, but on fire.

One deep calming breath, and then I’m sprinting across the yard, hollering for Finn, choking on the smoke billowing out of the open door, almost getting bowled over by the horse that suddenly tears out of it—Daphne, I recognize, breathing a sigh of relief that’s quick to catch, so short-lived it barely even forms at all, because there isn’t any time for relief.

Coughing even harder the deeper I move into the barn, I holler some more until finally, someone hollers back. “Get out of here, Lottie.”

“You get out of here,” I retort, shrugging off my flannel to use as a barrier between my palm and the heated metal latches I fumble to slide free.

My heart races, so much smoke stinging my eyes, but I force myself to calm the hell down, force my damn hand to stop shaking so I can get my horses out of here. “What the fuck happened?”

Face grim as he tries to wrangle a terrified Bowie out of her stall, Finn jerks his head towards the loft above us. Despite the oppressive heat, I feel all the color drain from my face as I tilt it towards the towering wall of flames licking the roof, fed by the hay bales stored up there.

As the bolt finally slides free with a screech, I just about manage to dodge Grace’s horse, Velma, as she escapes with a loud squeal. “ How? ”

“I don’t know.” With a grunt, Finn manages to wrench Bowie free, slapping her on the rear so she tears out of the barn. “Did you call 911?”

“No, I ordered pizza,” I snap, moving on to Shaggy next, clicking my teeth in an effort to draw my brother’s horse out into the aisle. “Of course I fucking called 911.”

Undeterred by my attitude, Finn frees the horse of the very woman he asks about next. “Lux?”

“She didn’t answer.”

“Go call her again.”

I choke a little more as the audacity of man aids the smoke thinning the air. “I’m a little busy, darling.”

“I don’t want you in here.”

“I don’t want you in here either so shut up and let me help, and then we can both get the hell out— watch out .”

With a gasped cry, I launch myself at Finn, grabbing a fistful of his shirt and frantically yanking him towards me. Not even a second later, an unholy crack stops my heart in my chest as a flaming rafter drops from above, the force of it throwing us both backwards.

A dull ache echoes across my back as I land hard, Finn hitting the ground right beside me. But it’s nothing compared to the pain that lances my very fucking soul when a sharp, panicked neigh pierces my ears.

Nor my own sharp panic when I realize it’s coming from the other side of the raging wall of flames separating us from the back half of the barn—when I recognize that young, equine tone.

Finn moves, but I’m faster. I’m on my feet before he’s even sat up, keeping low as I sprint towards the gap between the floor and the burning wood.

“Don’t you fucking dare,” he yells in my wake, nevermind the fact I’ve already dared.

If he hears me shout back at him to get the others out, I don’t know. If he listens, I don’t know that either. I do know that he lunges for me. I know that fingers glance the small of my back, so close to grabbing me, but I dodge just in time.

Right into the path of an errant flame.

I cry out when it licks at my bare shoulder, gagging as the acrid scent of burnt flesh fills my nostrils.

Finn screams something incomprehensible, something so loud and so angry that it overwhelms the horrible, crackling screech of fire, that it almost overwhelms me, but I persevere.

I fight my way through the thick smoke, coughing and swiping at my eyes as I follow the distressed noises to the lone occupied stall.

Squinting at Applesauce, I find it just a little easier to breathe when I quickly realize he’s unharmed.

“Hey, handsome.” Cursing internally as I realize I dropped my damn flannel somewhere, I cover my hand with the bottom of my tank top—I bite my damn tongue hard enough to bleed when the thin cotton offers no protection, and the molten latch sears my palm as I slide it open. “You ready to get out of here, huh?”

Evidently, Applesauce is not. He won’t. He’s fucking terrified, the poor, sweet thing, huddled in the corner and refusing to move, and it takes everything in me to remain calm, to not burst into frustrated tears, as I try and fail to coax him out.

“C’mon. Don’t break my nephew’s heart, okay? Suck it up for Alex.”

Applesauce nickers like he recognizes the name.

Hesitantly, he takes a single step towards me, but it’s not enough.

It’s too slow . I have no choice but to hook an arm around his long neck, another around his belly, and half-carry, half-drag his ass out of there, gnashing teeth and flailing hooves be damned.

By some grace of some fucking god, we make it outside before one of those hooves inevitably connects. I collapse with a groan as it finds my stomach, as another trods on my fucking fingers as Applesauce takes off into the night.

On my hands and knees in the dirt, I give myself five whole seconds to breathe in air that isn’t more smoke than oxygen before sitting back on my heels.

My midsection throbs, my ash-lined throat throbs, my burnt palm and my singed shoulder throb too, but I have to get up.

I have to move. I have to go back in and find Finn, help him get the rest of the horses out and make sure he gets out too.

An equine squeal of pure distress cuts through the night.

Swiping at my burning eyes, I squint into the darkness, praying to every entity I can think of that I’m not going to be greeted by one of my beloved horses burning to a crisp.

I wonder, briefly, if what I actually find is worse.

Headlights.

Five figures circling a horse— my horse.

One grasping at his lead rope, tugging too aggressively, but especially for one like Ruin.

“ Hey ,” I wheeze more than I shout as I struggle to my feet. “Get away from him.”

One second, I’m breaking out into a lilted run.

And then, I’m not.

It takes almost an entire minute for my mind to catch up with reality. For an extra bout of searing pain to register—for it to become apparent that there’s a piece of my outer upper arm missing.

Just as slow is the vague realization that it’s a graze.

A flesh wound.

So much flesh. So much blood .

I wobble, my eyes cloudy from more than just the smoke as I raise my gaze.

And then I blink them clear. I recognize the people failing miserably to wrangle my horse. I touch my wound with a shaky hand, and I hiss with pain, and then again with rage with I finally realize what, exactly, caused the mangled graze.

And I shriek, “Did you just shoot me? ”

Ricky might not be the one holding the gun, but he is the one who barks, “Don’t move.”

I lift my bloody hand in a single-fingered salute. “Fuck you.”

The sound of a shotgun reloading makes my spine lock, makes my gaze flit back to the psychopath wielding a weapon. Clint drops the barrel just enough to flash a truly terrifying grin. “Now’s not the time to be a bitch, Lottie.”

A thoroughly unhinged, deeply unamused noise rips out of me. “You just shot me, jackass. Bitch is kinda the default reaction.”

“So vicious,” Carl croons from beside his brother, chuckling darkly. “Always liked that about you.”

My gut roils. His wild thing . That’s what he used to call me, I used to like it. You’re a real bitch , he’d say with a laugh, and I was stupid enough, young enough, to take it as a compliment. To hear it affectionately.

I make no such mistake now.

I repeat, “Fuck you.”

“You already have.”

“Did I? Must’ve been pretty unremarkable.”

“Jesus, you really have a death wish, huh?”

No, actually. I realize right now, with starling clarity, with one bleeding bullet wound and another one pending, that I don’t.

I don’t want to die. I suddenly don’t feel so apathetic about living anymore either.

I suddenly panic as this overwhelming need for life—a good one, a safe, happy one—punches me in the chest. One on Serenity with my family and my friends and—

Fuck . Finn.

One thought of him and suddenly, he appears. Coughing my name, he stumbles around the side of the smouldering barn, so focused on me, he doesn’t notice the intruders until the gun swings in his direction.

Then, he stills.

And I move, stepping in front of him, my hands raised even though my arm screams in protest, while my pride fucking weeps. “Go right now and I’ll pretend I never saw you.”

“We’ll go as soon as your little friend cooperates.”