Page 69 of For Cowgirls and Kings

“Faith, you’re okay.” I move forward, placing both hands on her shoulders, twisting her to look for any glaring injuries in the darkness.

She giggles, a chilling sound, before she shrugs off my hands. “Yeah, I’m okay. Are…” She leans around me, looking at McCrae and the men laying at his feet and I cringe. “Are you guys okay?”

“Yes, let’s go. Dale’s in the van. You don’t need to see this, and we need to get her to a hospital now that you’re back and these guys aren’t after her.”

She pauses, her eyebrows scrunching. “Was it just thesetwo?” There’s no fear in her voice, only confusion. And then I remember Dale said three.

“Shit,” I hiss, moving back to McCrae. “Dale said there were three. Didn’t you say you saw someone and then these two jumped you? The third one is still out there.”

McCrae’s eyes flick to Faith for a second, a question I don’t understand written on his face, before he shifts his gaze to mine.

“I’ll clean this up, and look for the third. Get Dale and everyone out of here.”

A better person might feel bad leaving a lone man out here to fend for himself, and clean“this up,”whatever that means. But I don’t. These men got better than they deserved in my opinion, and McCrae’s doing exactly what we hired him to do. Even if I’ve never been brave enough to let this side out before.

I nod, motioning for Faith to follow me as I move back to the van.

I have to get Dale out of here. I have to make sure she’s safe.

Looking over my shoulder to make sure Faith is following, I spot a split second of her and McCrae locked in some kind of silent conversation, their eyes glued, before she severs the contact, moving to race ahead of me in the direction of Dale. I watch McCrae’s face contort into a look of pride, before he sees me watching and it melts into indifference.

I don’t know what all that’s about, but something tells me, I still don’t have the answers to this puzzle, even though the most important piece is safely back—broken but alive. My Dale, alive but barely, running out of the impossible darkness, straight into my arms.

TWENTY-SIX

ADALENE

February 19th, 2025

Beep.Beep. Beep.

I groan, rolling my head away. I wish I could just turn it off.

I barely noticed the sound when they first hooked me up, but now? Now it’s the worst sound I’ve ever heard—a reminder of where I am, what I’ve endured.

I pinch my eyes closed, the fluorescent lights ahead fuzzy as my lash line fills with unwanted tears. I’m so fucking tired of crying, and even though my mind’s numb and angry, the only emotion I can seem to express is despair.

I could barely look at Stetson, Gus, and Faith when I woke up in the hospital parking lot as they all tried to coax me up and out of the safety of the van. But worse than that, was looking at Mateo.

Does he look at me and think I deserved my punishment?

My heart tells me no—that’s not the man I consider one of my best friends—but Rafael’s voice echoes in my head, and the memory of Mateo all those years ago saying basically the same thing.What did I do to cause this?

Scalding hot tears skitter over my broken and swollencheeks, burning a path to the crook of my neck, and the nasty mat of hair pooled beneath me. Nothing. I did nothing—I still don’t really know why this happened.Why me?

The door clicks open, the bustling noises of the rest of the hospital pouring in, along with a wave of cologne.

“Dale, are you okay? Are you in pain? Do you need me to get the doctor in here?” The tender tone of Mateo’s voice cracks my heart, the sensation of blood flooding my chest almost enough to drown me. I turn away from where I know he’s standing, sobbing harder.

“I’ll never be okay,” I whisper, more to myself than him. But the sharp intake of breath tells me he heard me.

“Yes, you will.” There’s a firmness in his voice that only pisses me off.

I roll my eyes to his, teeth barred in a snarl as the heat of anger pours through me. How does he know? “You going to fix me Mateo? You think anything you can do, can fix me? Can make me safe again? Remove the memory of them, him…” I bite my tongue, the remainder of that sentence too bitter to release, even in my current state.

And instead of seeing sadness or pity on his face, like I expect, there’s an edge to his gaze—a hardness I’m not used to. This is the man who’s kind and thoughtful to every person he meets. He’s fair, if not a little too easy to please, and always puts everyone above himself.

He’s not the angry kind.