Page 51 of DFF: Delicate Freakin’ Flower (Family Ties #5)

Webb

T he wind shifted just enough to carry the sharp crack of a branch off to my right, making me freeze mid-step.

I’d been tracking Barris and what was left of his crew since the first trap caught one of his men square in the face with bear spray. They were floundering and scattered, but that made them even more dangerous. Desperate men didn’t think clearly, they reacted.

The radio crackled in my ear. “Situation near the east line,” someone said, voice low and tight. “Could be Gabby’s position.”

I sprinted, not waiting for a follow-up.

Branches whipped at my arms as I tore through the brush, my boots pounding against the damp ground.

The burn in my lungs wasn’t from exertion, it was from panic and from the knowledge that Gabby was near the east line.

If anything happened near her, she’d try to act.

That’s just who she was. And she might get herself killed because of it.

I burst into the clearing just in time to see the silhouette of a man standing with one hand wrapped around a dog and the other holding a gun.

The dog whimpered and twisted in his grip, but the man didn’t react.

His eyes were scanning the trees, sharp and methodical—focused.

Gabby had to be close. I couldn’t see her, but I felt it in my bones.

She was watching this, probably trying to move, probably thinking about stepping in, and that thought made my heart stutter.

Then he shifted. Just one step back, enough to catch his boot on a low tension line strung between two roots.

Snap.

The trap sprang to life in a blur of rope and pulley, snapping him off his feet and hauling him into the air. His scream split the clearing as he flipped upside down, still gripping the gun, and the dog slipped from his hands mid-swing, crashing to the ground with a sickening thud.

It yelped at the impact, sharp, high-pitched, and full of pain, and the sound hit me like a punch.

Jesse didn’t hesitate. He bolted from the shadows, skidding to his knees beside the dog and scooping it into his arms with a gentleness that would’ve looked out of place if it hadn’t come from someone like him.

Then, not sparing a glance at Barris, he turned and disappeared into the trees without a word.

There was no time for relief, though, because Barris—still swinging wildly from the snare trap—hadn’t let go of his gun.

Even upside down, his instincts kicked in. He twisted like a wild animal, his legs flailing in the air, using the momentum to bring his arm around. The muzzle of the weapon glinted in the moonlight as he raised it blindly, finger tightening on the trigger.

The first shot cracked through the night.

It went wide, striking the tree trunk just inches from my head. Bark exploded in every direction, the force of the impact slapping against my cheek like a warning. I ducked low just as the second shot came fast on its heels.

It zipped across the clearing, slicing just past Jesse’s shoulder. He shouted in surprise and dropped into a crouch, still holding the dog protectively in his arms. The little thing whimpered, curled tight into his chest.

Then, chaos broke loose all over again.

A scream erupted from somewhere off to the right after the next shot. It was high-pitched, panicked, and definitely not one of ours. One of Barris’s own had taken a bullet. The pain in his voice made it clear it hadn’t been a clean hit.

A second snap followed, quick and sharp, as another trap sprang to life.

Almost instantly, the air filled with the hiss of bear spray, cutting through the clearing like a whip.

Someone gagged, hacking violently, their boots slipping and scrambling through the leaves.

The chaos spread fast—shouts rising, curses thrown out in confusion—as the team broke formation and dissolved into disarray under pressure.

They were unraveling. Their formation was gone, but that didn’t matter right now because Barris was still hanging and still armed.

And still way too damn close to Gabby.

Then I saw her crouched low behind a dense wall of brush, weapon gripped tightly in both hands.

Eyes wide but focused, she tracked Barris without blinking.

Her face was pale, a streak of dried blood crusted at her temple from earlier, but she held steady.

Gabby wasn't panicking, at least not yet.

No, she was pissed about the dog and the bullshit this asshole had brought us all.

But I knew that if he got a clean shot—if he fired again—there’d be no second chances.

I made a choice and raised my voice, cutting through the din around us. “Hold fire!”

Our people froze instantly, weapons locked and trained, but no one pulled a trigger.

Barris was still swinging erratically, his movements jagged and desperate.

Barris's eyes locked onto Gabby. Even while hanging upside down, he managed to twist, adjusting just enough to aim the gun straight at her. My stomach dropped.

There wasn’t time to think. Taking a shot was out of the question—he was swinging too much, and if I hit the tension line, he’d crash straight down onto her. One wrong move could mean she was pinned…or worse.

I scanned the ground and spotted a rock. Without pausing, I grabbed it and launched it as hard as I could, every muscle firing with the single goal of knocking that weapon off course.

Turns out, I wasn't good at hitting my intended target. Instead, I got a better one as it struck Barris in the temple with a solid crack. His body jolted, and his legs kicked violently. I watched as his hand jerked and loosened, but the gun still didn’t fall.

Then another rock hit him, this one in the ribs. A stick followed, then a larger chunk of wood.

Someone threw a brick. I think one guy might’ve even thrown an old sandwich—though I didn’t want to know how long it had been in his pack.

Whatever anyone could find, they launched it at him. The air filled with improvised projectiles.

Another rock hit his shoulder. One more—something heavy and sharp—smashed into his arm, and the gun finally slipped free, tumbling down to the ground below with a soft thud in the grass.

Then Barris sagged completely, his body going limp. He dangled from the rope like a half-dead puppet, spinning gently in the night breeze.

Silence settled over the clearing. The gunfire had stopped, the screams had faded, and all that remained was the soft creak of the rope overhead and the gentle rustle of branches as the trees slowly stilled.

From just behind me, I heard Ira exhale loudly. “Shit…did we kill him with a sandwich?”

I turned my head slightly, watching as the old man stepped forward, hands on his hips, squinting up at the hanging body.

“I wanted to see him rot in prison,” he added with a sigh. “Was gonna clean my teeth with a file when I visited. I've always thought that'd look real intimidating and all.”

A few guys let out relieved chuckles, but Jesse swore softly under his breath as he gently stroked the dog’s matted fur.

But I didn’t laugh. I was still looking at Gabby.

She hadn’t moved or spoken, still crouched low in the brush, clutching her weapon like it was the only thing anchoring her to the moment.

Her eyes stayed locked on Barris—just like mine.

She was here. She was safe. And as long as there was breath in my lungs, I was going to make damn sure she stayed that way.

Barris was finally down. Swinging limply from the snare, unconscious and disarmed, he wasn’t a threat anymore—at least, not in this moment. All that was left was to collect the pieces and hand them over to the ones with badges and court orders.

I turned to the others, my voice sharp and clear after the chaos. “Round up the rest of his men. Check for injuries—ours and theirs—and get a call out to the sheriff’s office. We’re going to need paramedics, too.”

The others nodded, already moving into action, some disappearing into the trees to locate the ones still groaning from bear spray or yelling from poorly placed gunfire.

Jesse passed me, the dog still cradled gently in his arms, his eyes fierce with protectiveness.

Remy started making the necessary calls, his voice low but firm as he relayed our location and the situation.

I looked back up at Barris. He was just a man now, not a monster. Not the looming shadow that had haunted Gabby’s steps for months. Just a man who was battered, bruised, and swinging in the wind like the trash he’d always been.

But the tension in my chest didn’t ease because as much as I wanted to believe it was over, I knew better.

The damage he’d done ran deep. The reach of men like him didn’t always stop when the cuffs went on.

And there were others—investors, allies, people who’d turned a blind eye or stood too close to the fire for too long.

No, this wasn’t the end. Barris and Maddox were down, but the war wasn’t over.

Jesse yelled that he was leaving, and the dog pressed tight to his chest like a baby. She was whining, her body trembling with pain. Still, he moved fast, murmuring to her, already headed toward one of the waiting vehicles to get her to a vet.

Remy was on his phone, voice low but quick as he continued to brief law enforcement on precisely what they’d find when they arrived—unconscious or tied-up mercenaries, one bleeding-out bastard, and Barris himself, wrapped in a snare and swinging like he was trying out for a damn carnival ride.

I watched it all happen, and for the first time since this started, I felt something unfamiliar: relief. Finally, it wasn’t our war anymore. At least not physically.

The fighting, the traps, the planning, the chaos—those days were over.

Now it was in the hands of the authorities, the courts, and the state.

The law would handle the rest. They’d investigate, prosecute, expose the corrupt and the cowardly, and eventually—hopefully—bury every single bastard involved in this mess under years of federal charges.