Page 1 of Ranger’s Oath (Lone Star Wolf Rangers #5)

SADIE

A ruba

I always thought death would be loud. Sirens and screaming. A crescendo of strings while the heroine bleeds out in a designer gown. Tonight, death is a whisper pressed against the tinted glass of a limousine, and I am the heroine with the bad timing.

The island’s engagement party ended not too long ago.

Just long enough for the glitter to settle and the gossip to harden into pearls.

I should be tipsy on champagne, giggling to myself about the bridesmaid who danced worst to the salsa band.

Instead, after shepherding each of them safely back to their bungalows, I let myself wander off alone into the quiet night.

Now, I carry the echo of gunfire in my ears.

Instead of champagne bubbles I taste copper on my tongue, a reminder of how quickly a night of love and laughter can sour into terror.

The contrast slams into my senses, like a staccato chord.

One minute the night smelled of perfume and spilled champagne, the next it tastes of metal and ozone.

The limo’s chassis hums with a high, metallic note that sets my teeth on edge; vents hiss, chrome sings against the road, and the tires rasp on tarmac like a filing of metal.

Shadows stop being shapes and become small factories of menace.

My breath comes quick and shallow; the skin along my arms prickles as if static is crawling under my shirt.

Every tiny vibration—a pebble grinding under a tire, the soft click of a buckle—is magnified until it rings in my head.

The luxury leather and tinted glass press around me like a sealed vault; the car hums with a cold, clinical quiet that magnifies every small sound instead of soothing it.

It's only a reminder that I am being carried deeper into someone else’s plan.

The shift is dizzying, a nightmare rising up from the edges of paradise, and the fear winds tighter with every heartbeat.

The limo glides through the darkness like a predator.

My pulse is still hammering from the chase, my lungs raw with fear, and now the man behind the wheel hums as if he’s driving me to a gala instead of my own execution.

I press against the locked door, my fingers curling uselessly around the chrome handle.

“Where are we going?” I demand, my voice sharper than I intend. A brittle defense.

His eyes flick to the rearview mirror, lips curling as a click comes over the speaker, static letting me know he can hear and speak with me even though the partition is rolled up. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. You won’t be late for your party.”

I force a laugh, brittle but cutting. “Oh, good. I’d hate to miss the hors d’oeuvres. Do kidnappers cater? Or is it more of a bring-your-own-shovel kind of event?”

His smile twitches. Good. If I’m going down, I’ll make him work for it.

The drive is a blur of palms and moonlight, my mind spinning through possibilities.

None are good. My heart seizes when the limo slows.

A checkpoint. Armed guards in black shirts step forward.

Police? Doubtful. Mercenaries most likely or some kind of cartel thugs.

Are there cartels in Aruba? Mafia? They lean in, one flashing a grin that’s all teeth and no warmth. I swallow hard.

“Pretty passenger you’ve got there,” one of them says.

The driver smirks. “Pretty and curious. Curiosity killed the cop.”

The man with the smirk pats the trunk then flips open a compact case with a soft click — inside, a slim satellite uplink and a burnished comms rig I wouldn’t expect on local muscle. He taps it almost casually, and his whisper is meant for ears not mine: “The backer wants it tight.”

Laughter. A hand slaps the trunk. Then the barrier lifts, and we roll on.

By the time we reach the airstrip, cold sweat slicks my skin, each breath shallow and ragged. A private jet waits, engines humming like some kind of primordial beast stretching its wings.

The limo door jerks open, and rough hands seize me, dragging me onto the floodlit tarmac. My heels skid and scrape as I thrash, panic giving me strength. I twist, lashing out with a sharp kick that connects with someone’s shin, the jolt of impact rattling up my leg.

“Little bitch!” he snarls.

“Better than being some kind of excess baggage,” I say, twisted hard. For one fleeting moment, I break free, darting toward the hangar lights.

A man in a tailored flight suit stands by the stairs, and when a light from his wrist unit blinks it isn’t GPS—it’s a narrow-band antenna folding out like a spider leg. The gear looks military-grade, far beyond island muscle.

My scream tears out as hands close around me again. The acrid stink of jet fuel fills my nose, burning. The world tilts. Then flashes of red and blue as sirens wail. Local security. The mercenaries curse, shoving me forward and onto the plane.

I don’t remember the flight in any clear sequence. Only broken fragments remain: the sharp sting of chloroform pressed against my face, the suffocating weight of fear pinning me down, and the faint echo of Cassidy’s voice threading through my memory like a lifeline I can’t quite grasp.

I wake to airport lights blazing overhead. My body aches. I stumble out, and chaos erupts. Security rushes me, shouting questions. I barely form words when a rifle shot sounds. It’s a dry, metallic snap like a piano wire breaking, and pressure slams my eardrums flat.

Pain detonates in my chest, hot and brutal, stealing my breath in a single violent instant.

The impact knocks me sideways, the ground rushing up to meet me with bone-jarring force.

My vision blurs at the edges, pulsing black, and every sound twists into a distorted roar.

Voices shout around me, but they are warped and distant, smothered beneath the thunder of my heart as it fights to keep me alive.

“Sadie!” My sister Cassidy’s scream tears through the haze.

She’s suddenly there, pulling me into her arms, her face pale and frantic.

I blink hard, certain the blood loss is playing tricks, but her eyes glow molten gold, bright and wrong, burning like liquid metal.

Not human. Not possible. The sight rips through me with as much terror as the bullet itself, leaving me gasping, unsure if I’m dying or hallucinating.

I choke on something thick and metallic. My own blood? My lips are sticky with it.

“Cass… don’t… let me…”

She shakes her head violently. “I won’t. I can’t lose you. I won't.”

I try to protest, but the words die in my throat. Her face hardens with a desperate resolve. Her lips pull back and I see her canines lengthen, sharpening into fangs that should not exist. Terror surges through me before I can even move. Then she lowers her mouth to my throat and bites.

Agony rips through me, white-hot and merciless, igniting every nerve until I can no longer tell where flesh ends and fire begins.

It is more than pain. It is fire and ice colliding inside me, ripping me apart cell by cell, leaving nothing untouched.

My scream tears free, guttural and animal, echoing off the walls as if the sound alone might rip my lungs open.

It’s as if I can feel her blood mixing with mine, metaphorically speaking, hot and metallic, my heartbeat lurching, faltering, then hammering wildly as if it might burst through my ribs.

I thrash against her hold with every shred of strength left in me, desperate to tear free. I fight against her grip, against the crushing weight of fate, against the very tide dragging me under, my body convulsing in raw terror and defiance.

She whispers frantically, her voice thick with tears. “Live, Sadie. Please, live.”

The fire consumes me. It short circuits through every nerve, a furnace and an ice storm clashing inside my blood.

My nails gouge the concrete. My body convulses as if somebody has thrown a switch and is rewiring me in real time; cells reboot and ache with bright, alien pain.

I fight, but the pull is brutal and absolute, as if gravity itself has tilted and is drawing me into something I can't hold against.

Darkness scrapes at the edges of my vision. I fight, but the tide is too strong. My last glimpse is Cassidy’s tear-streaked face, her golden eyes shimmering with both love and guilt.

And then darkness prevails.

Galveston, Texas

A Few Days Later

When I come to, I am lying in the guest bedroom of my sister’s house, weak and disoriented.

The slant of afternoon light across the room and the faint pull of a small scar at my chest tell me days have passed, though I have no memory of them.

My body feels foreign, thrumming with an energy I don’t understand.

The bullet wound is gone, yet my skin crawls with instincts that are sharp, restless, and dangerous.

Cassidy sits vigil beside the bed, her hands trembling as she touches my face. “You may hate me for this,” she whispers, voice ragged. “But I couldn’t let you go.”

Her words strike harder than the bullet ever could.

I lie there, dazed and trembling, unable to grasp what she has done or why I am still breathing when I should be gone.

It feels like salvation and betrayal twisted into the same breath, leaving me torn between clinging to her as my only anchor and recoiling from her as if she has destroyed me.

Somehow, I know, my world has changed. I didn’t choose it. And I’ll never be the same again. Somewhere inside me, a new hunger stirs.

Slowly and quietly my sister explains what she has done to me. When she begins speaking, the words are too fantastical to believe. I cannot accept them, cannot wrap my mind around her claim that I am no longer human, that I am a wolf-shifter.

At first I laugh, the sound brittle. “You’ve lost it, Cass. Wolves don’t bite people back to life. That’s a fairy tale, or maybe a horror movie.”

Her eyes glisten but she doesn’t look away. “I wasn't in wolf form when I did it, but I know you saw my fangs. You felt it, Sadie. Deep down, you know I’m not lying.”

My pulse spikes. I push up on my elbows, anger sparking hot.

“No. What I felt was pain. What I saw was my sister sinking her teeth into me like an animal. And now you’re telling me I’m one of you?

How many of you are there? Rush? All of Team W?

Do you want me to believe that you and I are some kind of monsters? ”

Cassidy flinches, but her voice is steady. “I had no choice. In order to save you, I had to transition you.”

Rage surges through me, sharp enough to cut. “Shouldn't you have asked me?"

"You were dying. You begged me not to let you die."

"I didn't know this was what you would do. You didn’t save me—you turned me into something I never asked to be.”

Tears spill down her cheeks. My sister’s desperation condemned me to a life I don’t understand, a fate I never wanted.My transformation isn’t salvation—it’s a death sentence dressed in fur, teeth, and secrets I was never meant to know.

Loose ends don’t die quietly.