Page 20 of Ranger’s Justice (Lone Star Wolf Rangers #1)

CHAPTER 19

CASSIDY

T he gunshot shatters the silence like a thunderclap, echoing through the darkness, and then everything erupts into chaos.

Shouts. The sharp crack-crack of gunfire. The acrid scent of smoke and blood thickens the air.

Rush shoves me behind cover before I can react, his body a shield between me and the battlefield. I push against him, my heart hammering, my instincts screaming at me to fight, not hide.

“Stay down,” he snarls, his voice rough with command. His eyes—wild, feral—burn into mine. “Don’t argue.”

I open my mouth, but before I can respond, he’s already moving, his gun raised, his body blending into the shadows like the predator he is. And then, just like that, he’s gone.

The estate is a war zone. Bullets tear through the night, sparking off stone walls, burying into bodies with dull, sickening thuds. The air is alive with the sharp pops of suppressed gunfire and the occasional scream—some cut off mid-sound.

I force my breathing to steady, gripping my gun, scanning the battlefield. I told Rush I’d stay back. I swore I would, but I lied.

Keeping low, I inch forward, pressing my back against the cold stone of a decorative wall. Just ahead, I spot Dalton moving like a phantom through the carnage, his rifle raised. He takes out one of Hollister’s men with a single, silent shot, then slips back into the shadows.

To my right, Gideon and Deacon have breached the eastern perimeter, working together in perfect, ruthless synchronization. One by one, they eliminate the guards, their movements swift, merciless. The plan was to catch them off guard. To hit hard and fast, to end this before they had a chance to fight back.

But Hollister was ready. He knew we were coming.

My stomach churns as I push forward. The heavy oak doors stand open, spilling flickering light onto the bloodstained courtyard. Bodies litter the ground—all of them are enemies.

I spot Rush through the chaos, a blur of motion, his gun blazing as he cuts down anyone who dares cross his path. His movements are brutal, efficient, lethal. But I see the way his eyes scan the battlefield, the way his head turns, seeking—looking for me.

I don’t have time to let him find me, because I see him. Hollister.

He’s standing near the far side of the estate, a group of Del Toro enforcers flanking him, his suit pristine despite the blood and chaos around him. He’s calm. Too calm. Like a man who still believes he has the upper hand… and maybe he does.

A tall man at his side whispers something in his ear. Hollister nods, his cold gaze sweeping over the carnage, his lips curling in distaste. And then, as if sensing me, his gaze locks on mine. A slow, satisfied smile spreads across his face.

“Come out, Cassidy,” he calls over the gunfire. “I think it’s time we had a little chat.”

A cold knot tightens in my belly. He knows I’m here. I grip my gun harder, my pulse hammering in my ears. I should wait for Rush. Should let the team handle this. But this was my fight long before it was theirs.

I step forward. A gunshot rings out, kicking up dust near my feet, a warning shot. Hollister’s guards raise their weapons, but he holds up a hand, stopping them.

“There’s no need for that,” he says smoothly. “We’re family.”

“Bullshit.” I keep my gun trained on him as I close the distance, my steps steady despite the adrenaline pumping through me. I won’t let him see my fear.

He chuckles, shaking his head. “Little Cassidy. I wasn’t expecting you to be quite so… capable.” His gaze flickers to my gun, to the blood staining my hands. “I underestimated you.”

I smile, but there’s no humor in it. “Most people do.”

Hollister’s smirk never falters. “I suppose I should be flattered that you came all this way just for me.”

I tighten my grip on the gun. “This isn’t about you.”

His eyebrows lift. “No? Then tell me, darling, why are you really here?”

I take another step forward, the weight of my father’s memory pressing down on me. “I want to know why.”

His lips purse as if considering my words. “Why your father had to die?” He sighs. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but your father wasn’t the hero you think he was.”

Anger flares inside me, burning hot and uncontrollable. “Don’t.”

He smiles. “He was an obstacle. Just like you. Just like Rush and his Rangers. He thought he could play in a world he didn’t belong to, and it got him killed. You should be grateful I gave him a quick death. He literally never knew what hit him.”

I don’t realize I’ve moved until I’m right in front of him, my gun pressed to his chest.

“It may have been quick.” My voice is shaking with rage. “But it had to have been terrifying.”

My finger tightens on the trigger.

“Cassidy, don’t.”

Rush’s voice slices through the haze of my rage. I don’t look away from Hollister, but I feel Rush’s presence—solid, unyielding, just behind me. He won’t stop me. But he needs me to choose this.

Hollister’s smirk widens. “Go on, then. Kill me.”

He’s betting I won’t. That I can’t. He’s wrong. But before I can pull the trigger, I see it—something in his expression. The certainty. And suddenly, I know.

I adjust my aim, pulling the trigger.

The shot explodes through the night.

Hollister screams, dropping to his knees, his hand flying to his shoulder where the bullet tore through muscle.

Rush moves in an instant, his gun raised, his boot slamming into Hollister’s chest, knocking him flat. I turn to Rush, my chest heaving.

Hollister is bleeding. Writhing. Cursing my name.

It should feel like victory.

But it’s not over… not yet.

Rush presses his boot against Hollister’s chest and aims his gun at his head, but Hollister isn’t scared. No, he’s smiling. Blood drips from the wound in his shoulder, his expensive suit soaked through with it, but his eyes—sharp, cold—gleam with something dangerous.

Something is wrong.

A prickle of unease crawls up my spine.

Rush feels it too. His tight body, every muscle coiled, as if ready to strike. “What the hell are you smiling at?”

Hollister chuckles, lips curling despite the agony written across his face. “Oh, Rushton.” He coughs, spitting blood onto the dirt. “You still don’t get it, do you?”

Rush presses down harder with his boot, and Hollister groans. “Enlighten me.”

Hollister’s hand moves, too fast for me to process, reaching beneath his bloodstained jacket… Gun!

I barely register the warning scream in my head before I see the glint of steel. Hollister whips a small pistol from inside his jacket, moving with a speed I didn’t think possible. I’m already raising my own gun, my finger on the trigger, but I know—I know I’m not fast enough.

Hollister’s gun swings toward me. Time slows. I see it—the dark gleam in his eyes, the satisfaction, the absolute certainty that he’s about to take me down with him.

Another shot rings out, but it’s not mine.

Hollister jerks violently, his body arching, his mouth opening in shock. Hollister makes a choked, gurgling sound, his hands fluttering to his ruined neck, his face contorting in agony. The gun tumbles from his grip, his fingers twitching as he collapses onto his back. Blood spills over his lips, his body spasming once, twice—then still. I stare at the expanding blood stain and then whirl around to see who fired the fatal shot.

Rush is on him, his teeth bared, his gun smoking. His shot hit dead center, a perfect kill shot right through the bastard’s throat. Rush stands over him, his breath coming hard, his chest heaving, his wolf flickering just beneath the surface. He doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak. He just watches.

And then, after what feels like an eternity, he lifts his gaze to mine.

“It’s done.”

A shuddering breath escapes me. My gun lowers, my arms trembling from the tension of the fight. I stare at Hollister’s body, the finality of it settling in. The man who destroyed my family. Who stole my father from me. Who would have killed me if Rush hadn’t acted first. Gone.

I should feel relief. Closure. Something. All I feel is exhaustion.

Rush steps closer, his presence wrapping around me like a storm. “Cassidy.” His voice is rough, laced with the remnants of his fury, his adrenaline.

I swallow hard, my throat tight. “It’s really over.”

Rush exhales slowly, dragging a hand through his hair. His eyes don’t leave mine. “Yeah, darlin’. It is.”

I trace my finger along his jawline. “By the way, you didn’t give me a chance to tell you… I love you, too.”

A tremor runs through me, the weight of everything crashing down all at once. The pain, the loss, the rage I’ve carried for so long—it doesn’t just disappear. It doesn’t evaporate with Hollister’s last breath, but it’s lighter.

Rush must see it, because he reaches for me, his fingers brushing against my wrist, his touch warm, grounding. “We should go.”

I nod, but my body doesn’t move. Not yet. Instead, I take one last look at the man who stole so much from me, and then I turn my back on him. For good.

The battle is over, but the work isn’t.

The estate is a graveyard. Bodies lie strewn across the courtyard, the scent of blood thick in the air. The Del Toro enforcers never stood a chance—Rush, Gideon, Deacon, Gage, and Dalton made sure of that.

Dalton wipes his blade on a dead man’s shirt before sheathing it, his lips pulling into a satisfied grin. “That went well.”

Gideon snorts, checking the ammo in his rifle. “You call that ‘well’?”

Dalton grins. “The bad guys are dead. The cartel’s got no leader here, and we’re all still breathing. I call that a win.”

Gage rolls his shoulders, his expression unreadable. “We need to move. The cartel won’t take this lightly.”

Rush nods. “We leave nothing.”

Deacon tilts his head. “That means we’re burning this place to the ground?”

A slow, dark smile spreads across Rush’s face. “Damn right we are.”

Within minutes, the Rangers are moving. Gathering weapons, destroying intel, making sure no evidence remains that could tie back to us.

I watch, my mind still catching up to everything that’s happened.

Hollister is gone. The men who backed him? Gone. His empire? Crippled.

Gage and Gideon move quickly, rigging the estate with explosives while Deacon and Dalton secure the last of our gear. Rush stays close to me, his movements quick, controlled, lethal. Even now, with the fight over, he’s still wired, still on edge, his wolf riding him hard.

I don’t speak. I just watch.

It’s over.

It’s really over.

I don’t realize I’m shaking until Rush is in front of me, his hands framing my face, his touch gentle despite the blood still smeared across his knuckles.

“You with me, Cassidy?”

I blink, forcing myself to focus. His face is so close, his storm-gray eyes searching mine, his thumb brushing absently over my cheek.

I nod. “Yeah.”

His jaw tightens. “Good.”

And then, without another word, he kisses me.

Not soft. Not sweet. But deep and demanding, filled with everything we have and haven’t said.

I gasp against his mouth, my body melting into his, my fingers tangling in his shirt, pulling him closer, needing him closer. The fire between us is just as fierce as it was before—maybe fiercer.

The estate explodes behind us, flames shooting into the sky, lighting up the night like a damn beacon.

The flames roar behind us, licking at the sky, devouring the estate that once housed so much evil. The heat of the flames kiss my skin, the scent of smoke thick in the air, mingling with the lingering metallic tang of blood.

I should be thinking about what we’ve just done. About the bodies left behind, about the chaos we’re leaving in our wake. About how, even though Hollister is dead, the war might not be over.

But all I can focus on is Rush. His lips are still on mine, his hands gripping my waist like he’s never letting go, like he needs this—needs me—more than his next breath. I feel the same. A wild, raw, burning connection exists between us, an unbreakable bond.

I clutch at his jacket, pulling him closer even as the fire behind us cracks and splinters through the night. My pulse hammers, but it’s not from fear or adrenaline anymore. It’s from this, from the way Rush consumes me, from the way his kiss is as much a promise as it is a claim.

I’ve never belonged to anyone. Never wanted to. But now I belong to him, and that is everything.

When he finally pulls back, his breath is hot against my lips, his forehead pressing against mine. He says nothing at first—just breathes me in like he’s trying to memorize me. Like he’s afraid I’ll disappear if he lets go.

“Cassidy,” he murmurs, voice rough, still edged with the last remnants of the battle.

I shudder, my body still buzzing from the fight, from the bloodshed, from the aftermath of everything we’ve just survived. From him.

I swallow hard, trying to pull my thoughts together, trying to focus on the fact that we’re standing in front of a burning building, that the mission is technically over. That I should be relieved.

But I’m not. Because this isn’t the end. It’s just the beginning.

The realization hits me all at once. This was never just about killing Hollister, never just about revenge. This was about justice, about taking back the control he stole from me the night he made my father’s car explode.

And now? Now, I have no idea what comes next. The world has opened up in ways I never expected, in ways that both terrify and thrill me. My body hums, the claiming mark on my neck tingling, a reminder of what I am now, of what I belong to—to Rush, to this life.

I shift my gaze, staring up at him, at the man who’s saved me, ruined me, claimed me in a way I never saw coming. And I realize something else. There was never a doubt in my mind that I would stay.

The thought should terrify me, should send me spiraling, but it doesn’t. Because for the first time since my father died, I feel like I belong somewhere. Rush watches me, his golden gaze sharp, like he sees everything I’m thinking.

I lick my lips, my voice hoarse. “It’s over.”

He exhales slowly, brushing his thumb over my jaw. “Yeah.”

I swallow past the lump in my throat. “So what now?”

Rush’s expression darkens, his grip tightening on me. “Now?” He lifts an eyebrow, his smile slow and dangerous. “Now, we go home.”

Home.

The word lingers, curling through me like an unfamiliar whisper. Home has always been a place I chased but never found. Until now. The thought sends a strange warmth through my chest, something solid, something right.

Then reality sets in, creeping through the edges of my mind. Home means something different now. Home is no longer a place. Home is Rush. Home is a pack of lethal wolves who hunt monsters in the dark.