Page 7 of Ranger’s Justice (Lone Star Wolf Rangers #1)

CHAPTER 6

CASSIDY

I don’t believe in monsters. At least, I didn’t before tonight. But standing in the middle of the Texas desert, with the scent of blood still thick in the air, I can’t lie to myself anymore.

I saw it. Felt it.

Rush changed into something not human, something other, something out of a fantasy novel that should never exist in the real world. But it does, because I just watched it happen with my own two eyes.

And the worst part? He doesn’t even look surprised by it.

He moves to the back of his truck like this is just another night on the job, grabbing a fresh pair of jeans and pulling them on with zero hesitation. My heart is pounding so hard it’s a miracle I’m still standing.

“You shifted,” I whisper.

His movements still. Damn it, I wasn’t going to use that word.

Rush rolls his shoulders before tugging on a shirt, his gaze sharp when it lands on me. “You don’t know what you’re talking about, Marlow.”

He’s lying. I know he’s lying. And he knows I know he’s lying.

My hands clench into fists as I take a step closer, ignoring the way my body is still pulsing with adrenaline. “Don’t play me, Rush. I saw you. I watched you turn into a damn wolf.”

He shuts the truck door harder than necessary. “You saw what you think you saw.”

That sets me off.

I march straight up to him, not caring that he towers over me, not caring that he’s the very definition of dangerous. “Don’t you dare try to gaslight me,” I snap. “I saw you shift—change—whatever the hell you want to call it! And I want answers, and I want them now.”

Rush doesn’t react, not at first. Then, slowly, he turns toward me, the air around him moving in a way I can’t explain. His presence thickens, like the very space between us bends to his will.

“You want answers?” His voice is low, controlled. Too controlled.

“Yes,” I grind out. “I deserve to know what the hell is going on.”

He steps forward, cutting the distance between us to nothing. “You don’t want answers,” he murmurs, his breath warm against my skin. “You think you do, but what you really want is to make sense of something that isn’t supposed to exist in your world.”

I don’t flinch, even though part of me wants to. “I want the truth,” I say, holding his gaze.

“At the risk of giving you a cliched movie quote, ‘you can’t handle the truth.’”

“Give it a shot.”

His lips press together. His jaw is so tight it looks like he’s about to snap the bones straight through his skin. “Truth is a dangerous thing, Marlow.”

"Try me."

He stares at me, measures me, and I swear something flickers in his expression—something that’s almost torn.

Then, suddenly, he grabs my wrist, yanking me flush against his body.

My breath catches.

His grip is firm but careful, like he’s fighting himself. “It’s dangerous to think you know the whole truth when you don’t. There are some truths that must remain secret. If they aren’t, innocents could be killed.”

A shiver runs through me, but I refuse to let him see it.

“You say Hollister put me in the cartel’s sights and marked me for death the moment he did so,” I challenge. “Knowing what you are will not change that.”

Rush lets out an indistinct sound, something close to a growl. “You have no idea what you’re talking about,” he mutters, releasing me so abruptly I have to catch myself. He runs a hand through his hair, his body vibrating with barely contained frustration. “Damn it, Cassidy. This isn’t some fucking thriller novel where you uncover a big secret and suddenly everything clicks into place.”

I narrow my eyes. “I know that.”

He shakes his head. “Do you? Because if you really understood, you’d be running right now.”

That makes my blood boil. I step right back up to him, poking a finger into his chest. “Oh, you don’t get to tell me what I should or shouldn’t be afraid of, Ranger,” I hiss. “You think you scare me? You think whatever the hell just happened is enough to send me packing?”

His nostrils flare. “It should.”

“Well, it doesn’t.”

Silence falls. The wind moves between us, cool against my overheated skin.

Rush looks down at me, his gaze unreadable, but there’s something in his expression that tightens in a way that shouldn’t make my pulse quicken. But it does.

“You’re impossible,” he mutters.

“And you’re infuriating.”

Something almost like amusement flickers through his gaze, but it’s gone too fast to be real. He moves first, turning away and heading back to the truck, grabbing a sat phone from the console. I don’t know who he’s calling, and I don’t care.

I need answers. I take a slow breath, forcing my racing heart to steady. Whatever Rush is, whatever this means, it’s bigger than just him.

Bigger than me, but I will get the truth.

One way or another.

I don’t know how long I sit there, staring at the dark desert sky, trying to wrap my mind around what I just witnessed. I should be running. I should be screaming. But I’m not. Instead, my fingers are curled around my knees, holding on. My heart is still hammering against my ribs, and my mind is spinning at a million miles per hour.

Rush is a shifter. A real one. Not some myth or whispered legend. Not something from the kind of romance novels my sister, Sadie, likes to tease me about.

A real goddamn wolf… and also a human. And right now, he’s acting like I should just sit back, shut up, and pretend none of this is happening.

I drag my gaze back to him. He’s standing by the truck, speaking into a satellite phone, voice low and clipped, his posture rigid. Every muscle in his body is coiled tight, like he’s barely holding himself together.

I should still be reeling from the sight of him changing into something not human. Instead, all I can focus on is the way my body reacts to him—to the power radiating off him, to the barely restrained violence simmering beneath the surface. It should scare me. It doesn’t. In fact, I find it intriguing and, dare I say, if only to myself, arousing.

I straighten, dusting my hands off on my jeans as I take a few measured steps toward him. He glances at me, his golden-hued gaze sharp in the dim moonlight, and something inside me tightens.

“I’m not letting this go,” I say.

He ends the call, tucking the sat phone away. “You should.”

I scoff. “Not happening.”

His jaw flexes. He looks like he’s debating something, but then he shakes his head and jerks his chin toward the truck. “Get in.”

I don’t argue. I have too much riding on this to waste time bickering.

The drive is silent. Rush doesn’t speak, and I don’t push. There’s a tension in his shoulders—an unease that wasn’t there before. Whatever he told himself about keeping me out of this? It’s falling apart. And I know damn well I’m going to be the reason he loses control.

After nearly an hour of driving, he pulls onto a dirt road leading into a stretch of thick trees, the kind of place that swallows you whole if you aren’t careful. The ranch house is nothing like the one before. It’s larger, more fortified, with multiple outbuildings and enough vehicles parked out front to suggest we’re about to meet up with the rest of his team.

Rush kills the engine and turns toward me. “You stay close. You listen. You don’t cop an attitude or pull any of your usual shit.”

“Wow,” I deadpan. “You make me sound so difficult.”

He doesn’t rise to the bait. “I mean it, Cassidy. My team isn’t like the men you’re used to dealing with.”

I lift my eyebrow in question. “What does that mean?”

He mutters something under his breath before yanking open his door and stepping out.

Typical.

I follow, my boots crunching against gravel as we approach the entrance. The second we step inside, I feel it—the presence of something dangerous. The air is thick with authority, with power. And then, I see them.

The first man stands just inside the doorway, arms crossed over his broad chest. He’s got tanned skin, a military, close-cropped buzz cut, and an expression that says he doesn’t have time for whatever is happening. His eyes flick to me, assessing, but he doesn’t say a word.

I remember him from the first place we went. Gideon.

“Gideon,” Rush says in greeting.

Gideon grunts. “Thought you said you weren’t bringing her here.”

Rush’s jaw tightens. “Changed my mind.”

Gideon’s gaze drags over me once more before he steps aside, letting us in. The builders designed the main room for function, not comfort. There’s a massive table at the center, maps and files scattered across it. Three more men are seated around the table; each is lethal in his own way.

Rush introduces them and I make mental notes of who’s who.

Dalton Calhoun—former Navy SEAL. Broad-shouldered, cocky grin, but eyes like a predator sizing up prey.

Deacon Winslow—former Marine Force Recon. Quiet, calculating, the kind of man who doesn’t need to say he’s dangerous—you just know.

Gage Remington—former Night Stalker pilot. Leaner than the others, but something about him says he’s the kind who enjoys the fight.

And then there’s Gideon—former Marine Raider, all sharp angles and scars, the kind of man who makes silence feel like a threat.

“And you?” I ask.

“Former Army Ranger and leader of the Texas Rangers Team W.”

“Let me guess the W stands for wolf,” I say, making an educated guess. Rush nods. “You’re all wolf-shifters? Is that what you call yourselves? Because some of the romance novels refer to you as wolf-shifters and some as werewolves.”

“Wolf-shifter is the proper designation,” drawls Dalton.

His team might never refer to Rush as their alpha, but it appears he is the one they all defer to, even if they won’t admit it outright.

Gage lets out a low whistle, leaning back in his chair. “So, this is her, huh?”

Rush gives him a warning look.

Dalton grins. “Relax, boss. I’m just saying… I didn’t think this was the woman who’d have you breaking all your own damn rules.”

Rush ignores him, grabbing a file off the table and flipping it open. He gestures for me to sit. “We’ve got a problem.”

“No kidding,” I mutter.

His gaze flicks to mine, sharp enough to cut. “Hollister’s not just laundering money for the cartel.”

I stiffen. Rush slides the file across the table. “He’s trafficking women. Teens. Maybe younger.”

My gut twists as if someone has stuck a knife in it. My mother is a patron for an organization that works with trafficked women and children.

I scan the reports, the photos, the sickening proof laid out in black and white. My hands clench into fists as I read name after name—girls who vanished, shuffled through shell companies, their trails disappearing into the void of cartel-controlled routes.

I choke on the words, my throat tight, as I fight back the rising bile. “This is his doing?”

Rush nods. “His company, his accounts, his logistics network.”

An icy rage builds inside me, hotter than anything I’ve ever felt before. Hollister stole my father. Took everything from me. And now he’s doing this?

I shove the file away, my breath ragged. “We stop him.”

Rush watches me carefully. “This isn’t just about numbers on a screen anymore, Marlow. These are real people. Real lives.”

I meet his gaze, my blood burning. “And that’s exactly why we stop him.”

A long beat of silence stretches between us. Then, slowly, Rush nods.

Dalton whistles low under his breath. “Oh, hell. She’s serious.”

Deacon shakes his head. “This is going to get messy.”

Rush straightens. “Then we do what we do best.”

Gideon crosses his arms. “We hunt.”

A shiver runs down my spine. Because for the first time in my life, I know—without a doubt—that justice is coming.

The silence in the room is thick, a suffocating blanket of barely restrained fury and unspoken threats. I keep my hands clenched into fists, my pulse hammering in my ears as I force myself to process the horrors before me.

Hollister isn’t just laundering money for the cartel. He’s trafficking people. Girls.

The truth of it settles in my bones, heavy and unrelenting. I’ve spent years chasing shadows, clawing through ledgers and offshore accounts, trying to prove he was dirty. I thought I wanted revenge for my father, to see Hollister burn for what he did to my family. But this? This is worse. This is something that can’t be ignored, something that needs to be stopped now.

I push the file away, shoving back from the table. “I’ve got a lead I need to follow up on.”

Rush, standing across from me with his arms crossed over his chest, doesn’t move. His golden eyes darken, something dangerous flashing across his face. “Not happening.”

I grit my teeth, trying to level him with a glare; it doesn’t work. “I wasn’t asking for permission.”

Dalton lets out a low whistle from where he’s lounging in his chair. “Oh, sweetheart. You really don’t know how to pick your battles, do you?”

Rush’s head snaps toward him, and the former SEAL has the sense to lift his hands in surrender. “Just saying,” Dalton mutters, clearly amused.

Rush reverts his focus back to me, and my stomach tightens at the sheer force of him. The man commands space, making the room feel smaller just by existing in it. He leans forward, planting his hands on the table, his fingers splayed across the worn wood. His voice is controlled, but I can feel the undercurrent of anger just beneath it.

“You are not following anything. You are not going anywhere.”

I lift my chin. “You don’t get to decide that.”

The room goes deadly quiet.

Rush straightens, his movements precise, measured. His golden eyes pin me in place, unblinking, unrelenting. “The only way you’re leaving my sight, Cassidy, is if I let you.”

My heart kicks against my ribs. A warning. A challenge.

I push back. “This isn’t just your fight, Rush.”

His eyes flash. “You made it my fight when you got yourself tangled up in the cartel’s business. They want you dead. They will not stop. And I am not…” his voice drops lower, rougher, “… going to stand by and let you walk into their crosshairs.”

Something hot and sharp coils between us. The other Rangers are watching, but no one says a word. They know better. This is a battle neither of us is willing to lose.

I cross my arms, defiant. “I’ve been taking care of myself for a long time, Rush. I don’t need a guard dog.”

His jaw clenches, and in a blink, he’s moved. One second he’s across the table, the next he’s towering over me, his body so close I can feel the heat radiating off him.

His voice is a low growl. “You do now.”

The air crackles with something volatile, something dangerous. I don’t back down. I can’t.

I hold my ground, lifting my gaze to meet his. “I’m not some helpless female you can just order around.”

Rush’s breath comes slow and measured, his expression unreadable, but his eyes—they burn. “No, you’re not. But you’re mine to protect now, whether or not you like it.”

My pulse jumps. His words wrap around me, sinking deep, igniting something that I don’t know how to name. My body betrays me, reacting to the sheer power of him, the overwhelming dominance in his presence.

I tell myself it’s frustration. That the heat licking up my spine is nothing more than adrenaline. That the tightening in my lower belly is not anticipation. I lie to myself, because the alternative is too dangerous to consider.

I drag in a breath, forcing myself to stay steady. “This is personal for me, Rush.”

His gaze flickers, a crack in the stone. “And that’s exactly why you’re not going in alone.”

My fingers twitch at my sides. “If I don’t act now, Hollister will bury every trace of this before I can get close.”

Rush’s eyes hold mine, sharp and unwavering. “Then we act. But you don’t run off alone.”

I shake my head. “I work better…”

“You work better alive,” he cuts in, his voice steel.

We stare each other down, a war waging in the space between us. I hate that he’s right. I hate it. But I can’t let this go.

Dalton clears his throat, breaking the heavy silence. “So, are we done with the staring contest, or should I start taking bets?”

I tear my gaze from Rush, my cheeks heating. “Shut up, Dalton.”

He grins. “Not a chance.”

Gideon steps forward. “If Hollister is tied to this, then someone is protecting him. We need a plan, not reckless moves.” His sharp gaze flicks to me. “And not solo ones.”

I want to argue. I need to argue. But the truth is—if I’m being honest—I don’t want to do this alone. Rush watches me closely, waiting, his body still taut with controlled fury.

I huff out a breath, crossing my arms tighter. “Fine.”

His eyebrows lift. “Fine?”

I meet his gaze. “Fine. We do it your way.”

Something unreadable flickers in his eyes. Victory. Relief. Possessiveness.

I pretend I don’t see it.

Rush gives a curt nod. “Good.” He turns back to his men, all business now. “We move at dawn.”

Dalton claps his hands together. “Oh, this is going to be fun.”

Gideon glares at him. “You have a twisted sense of fun.”

Dalton shrugs. “I live for the chaos.”

Rush ignores them, his attention locked on me as he steps closer, voice dropping low enough that only I can hear. “You don’t run again, Marlow. You don’t lie to me. You stay in my sight. Got it?”

Something dark and heady rolls through me at the way he says my name, the command in his voice.

I swallow hard. “Got it.”

Rush watches me a second longer before nodding.

I don’t know what I’ve just agreed to.

But I have a feeling that the moment this war with Hollister ends, the one between me and Rush will be just beginning.