Page 12 of Ranger’s Oath (Lone Star Wolf Rangers #5)

SADIE

T he early dawn light spreads like a faint bruise on the horizon when unease tightens in my gut.

The ranch is unnaturally still, the silence stretched tight as though the world itself is holding its breath.

I push upright in bed, pulse already racing, the memory of Gage’s eyes on me the night before flashing through my mind.

The sharp crack of gunfire tears through the quiet like a blade, jolting me upright as the world outside erupts in chaos.

The sound rolls across the ranch, echoing against the walls, followed by the splintering crash of glass and the distant roar of men shouting.

The peace of dawn is gone in a breath, replaced by raw violence that makes the floor beneath me feel unsteady.

My body reacts before my mind does. I tumble out of bed, landing hard on my knees, and scramble for the door. Cassidy bursts in a second later, hair loose, eyes wide. “They’re here.”

Another volley of shots explodes, glass shattering somewhere below in a spray I can almost hear scattering across the floor.

These are not the elite hunters who planted bugs and doctored glassware.

This is a subcontracted, mid-tier crew, paid to poke the bear, to test the perimeter with noise and pressure.

Disposable muscle meant to rattle us and draw blood, not the hand behind the plan.

The walls tremble with the impact, and my pulse slams so hard against my ribs it feels like it might break free.

Before I can move, Gage is there, filling the doorway, every line of him taut and lethal. He doesn’t ask if I’m alright, doesn’t waste time on comfort. He grips my arm and hauls me to my feet. “Safe room. Now.”

I want to argue, to plant myself in place and demand answers, but the steel in his eyes makes my protest die in my throat. He propels me forward, Cassidy close on our heels, our footsteps hammering against the polished wood as the house shudders with violence.

Shots ricochet in the distance, windows cracking from the impact, shouts rising like a storm outside—Deacon, Dalton, and the rest of the Rangers locked in battle with the faceless enemy reckless enough to come for us.

The sound of gunfire and men’s voices bleeds into a roar that pushes us faster, every stride driven by the knowledge that death could be one turn away.

“Gage, wait...” I try to dig in my heels. “We can’t just hide. They’re out there...”

His glare cuts me off. “You hide, we fight. That’s the only way this works.”

We reach the den at a dead run and Gage rips open a concealed panel, revealing a steel door yawning like the maw of some beast. His hand is firm on my back as he propels me through first, Cassidy at my side.

The safe room swallows us whole, the reinforced walls dampening the chaos but not the terror clawing through my chest.

The air crackles with tension, every breath charged as screens flare to life across one wall.

Grainy feeds show the grounds outside, the night torn open by bursts of light.

Figures dart across the cameras like ghosts in combat, muzzle flashes ripping through the dark and turning the pasture into a battlefield alive with fire and shadow.

Cassidy squeezes my hand, her knuckles cold. “They’ll hold. They always do.”

I want to believe her, to cling to her certainty, but the monitors betray us.

One of the men staggers into view, jerking as bullets slam the ground around him, his weapon firing in ragged bursts before his body pitches sideways.

He crashes against the fence line, then vanishes beyond the edge of the camera, leaving only a smear of motion.

My throat tightens until it aches, the grim certainty pressing down that not all of them will walk away from this fight.

Gage steps in last, sealing the door with a hiss.

For a heartbeat I expect him to leave, to throw himself back into the fight with the others, but he stays.

He’s here because protecting Cassidy and me is his charge, because Rush trusts him above all to keep us breathing.

The room feels even smaller with him inside, his presence heavy and protective, pressing against me until my back meets the wall and there’s no escaping his nearness.

I press a hand to my racing heart. “What the hell is going on?”

“An attack,” he says flatly, eyes on the monitors. “Stay quiet.”

“I gathered that, Ranger,” I snarl, fear sharpening my tongue. “Care to explain why?”

His jaw tightens. “Later.”

“No. Not later. Now.” My voice wavers but holds. “I deserve to know what we’re up against.”

Cassidy touches my arm, a silent plea for patience, but I shake her off, the contact too light to hold me steady.

My whole world is unraveling—murder in an island paradise, the memory of a gun pressed against my ribs, a bite that made me a wolf- shifter without my consent, and now armed men battering at our door.

The safe room feels less like a sanctuary and more like a coffin, every breath too shallow, every inch of space pressing against me.

The air tastes stale, heavy with recycled fear, and my chest aches from the strain of holding it together.

I can’t stand being boxed in with questions clawing at me, not when the lies closing in are more suffocating than the gunfire rattling the world outside.

The monitors flare with another burst of gunfire, the screen trembling as if it feels the concussive force.

A figure goes down hard, sprawling into the dirt, while another shadow barrels forward with reckless speed.

The echoes rattle through the walls, each report a reminder of how close the fight is pressing in.

The Rangers are holding the line for now, but the question claws at me—how much longer can they last before the door to this room becomes the next battlefield?

I round on Gage. “Tell me the truth. Stop treating me like some helpless debutante you can tuck away in a closet.”

His eyes finally drag from the monitors and pin me in place.

The intensity there robs me of air, a heat that makes my lungs stutter.

He advances, closing the distance until his frame blots out everything else, the charged space between us vibrating with restrained force.

His voice drops low, rough and unyielding.

“You’re not helpless. That’s the problem. ”

“Then let me help,” I fire back, anger breaking through the fear. “Don’t shove me into a corner and expect me to play nice.”

“You think this is a game?” His voice is razor sharp. “Out there are men who will put a bullet in your head and not lose a minute of sleep. You want to walk into that?”

“I’ve already walked into it!” I snarl. “I watched a man die. I’ve been dragged into cars, hunted through resorts, bitten without my permission. Don’t tell me I don’t understand danger.”

The air between us hums with a charge more dangerous than fear, an energy that prickles across my skin until every nerve feels exposed.

His hand rises, knuckles grazing down my cheek in a touch so tender it jolts me, a contradiction to the raw power radiating off him.

Beneath that gentleness, his body vibrates with contained fury, a storm he’s holding back by sheer force of will.

“Gage...” My voice falters.

His head dips, his lips hovering just above mine. “You want honesty?” His breath warms my mouth. “Here it is. You’re in more danger than you can imagine. And I can’t let anything happen to you.”

Then he kisses me.

It’s not sweet. It’s hungry, desperate, fierce, full of everything he refuses to speak.

The force of it steals my balance, my knees threatening to give as my fists knot into his shirt to anchor myself.

Heat floods through me in a rush so sharp it feels dangerous, a wildfire racing under my skin.

For a moment the world outside—the gunfire, the terror, the lies—dissolves, leaving nothing but the crush of his mouth on mine and the raw need that sears between us.

When he finally tears away, both of us are breathing hard. His forehead presses to mine, his voice a growl. “When this is over, I’ll tell you everything. But not before.”

I bite down on my frustration. "What everything? What don't I know? Do you think a kiss is going to distract me from the fact that I’m in the dark? That I don’t understand everything about what I’ve been turned into?”

His eyes burn hotter. “That kiss was the truth you said you wanted.”

Cassidy clears her throat, her voice brittle. “Not really the time, you two.”

On the monitors, the shadows surge again, figures moving with ruthless precision.

One of the cameras fizzles into static, the picture collapsing in a shower of white noise.

My stomach knots tighter. The attack isn’t finished, not by a long shot.

And the battle crackling between Gage and me feels just as volatile, a private war neither of us seems willing to surrender.

The siren shrieks without warning, rattling the reinforced walls as the safe room lights stutter and dim. Power falters, flickers back to life, then steadies in a way that feels fragile, temporary. A cold weight sinks through me, dragging my stomach down until I feel hollow.

“What does that mean?” I ask.

“It means they’re smarter than we gave them credit for,” Gage mutters. He checks the control panel, his shoulders tight. “They’ve cut the generators.”

“Can they get in here?” Cassidy whispers.

“They’re trying.” His tone is grim.

The walls feel smaller with every passing second, the air hotter. My pulse is a drum in my ears. I grab Gage’s arm. “Then we can’t just sit here.”

His hand covers mine, large and steady. “You’ll stay put. I’ll handle what’s outside.”

“Don’t you dare leave us in here to rot.” My voice cracks with fury and something more raw. “If you walk out that door, I don’t know what Cassidy will do, but I’m coming with you.”

His mouth twitches, half irritation, half something darker. “You don’t take orders well.”

“Never have.”

The siren bleats again, lower this time, as though mocking us with its hollow cry.

Outside, the bursts of gunfire climb nearer, rattling the walls with each report.

On the monitors, bright flares bloom by the porch as shadows sweep in and out of view, swift and menacing.

My chest constricts, every breath scraped raw as if the danger is already pressing against the steel door.

Cassidy grips my hand, trying to steady me, but my focus is locked on Gage.

His body is coiled like a weapon ready to be unleashed, every line of him braced for violence.

Then his gaze flicks down to my mouth, and the hard edge of the soldier is eclipsed by something else entirely—the raw, searing hunger that burned through both of us only moments ago.

I whisper, “If we don’t make it out...”

“We will,” he cuts in, his grip tightening. “I won’t let you think otherwise.”

He kisses me again, slower this time, his mouth lingering over mine with aching insistence, as though committing every taste and texture to memory in case the world outside rips us apart.

The pressure deepens until my body surrenders, melting into his, heat unfurling in waves that curl low and hot through me.

Desire tangles with fear, the two inseparable, and for one reckless heartbeat need devours everything else.

When we part, I whisper against his lips, “Then prove it.”

His silence is an answer I loathe, a void where truth should be. But the deep, primal growl vibrating in his chest when another boom rattles the walls speaks louder than words, a feral promise carved into the air—he’ll fight tooth and bone to keep me breathing, even if it costs him his life.

The safe room lights sputter once more, shadows leaping across the walls as the steel door shudders under a heavy blow. The groan of strained metal vibrates through the floor, rattling my bones. Whoever is out there isn’t just searching anymore—they’ve locked onto us, and they’re coming through.