Page 2 of Ranger’s Oath (Lone Star Wolf Rangers #5)

SADIE

T he first thing I notice is the sound. Too much sound.

The tick of a clock ricochets like a hammer in my skull.

The refrigerator hum modulates under everything, a low motorized thrum that rides two notes like a faulty metronome.

The fabric of the sheets whispers against my skin, threads catching in a dry, papery rustle that claws at my nerves.

My eyes fly open, and the sunlight streaming through the window burns across my vision, blinding and relentless.

I jerk upright in the bed, clutching the sheets to my chest. Cassidy’s guest bedroom.

I recognize the carved headboard, the too-perfect arrangement of flowers by the window.

My sister always did have a flair for presentation.

It should feel familiar, safe. Instead, every detail needles me, too sharp, too bright, too much.

“Easy,” Cassidy says from the armchair in the corner. Her voice is soft, but to me it booms. I flinch. She winces at my reaction. “Sadie, you’re safe.”

“Safe? My body feels like it’s been hijacked by an alien rave.” My throat rasps with dryness. I push a shaky hand through my hair and glare at her. “Start talking. I want more than to be kept alive. I want my choices back.”

She hesitates, and I catch it. The little pause before she slips on the polished mask. I’ve known her too long not to. “You were shot. You were dying. I… I couldn’t let you go... you begged me not to.”

Memories crash back in a disjointed flood: the limo’s leather reek, the flash of gunfire, the crushing impact in my chest that stole the air from my lungs.

I remember the panic thick in my throat, and then Cassidy looming above me with eyes that burned gold, her canines lengthening into fangs.

That impossible image sears itself into me, half horror, half betrayal.

“You bit me.” The words scrape out, raw and accusing.

Her shoulders stiffen, but her chin lifts. “I saved your life... like you begged me to.”

“Don’t pretty it up, Cass. I had no idea what you would do or what it would entail. You bit me like something out of a nightmare.”

She crosses to the bed, kneeling so we’re eye-level. Her eyes glimmer, not golden now, but human blue. “I didn't have a choice. You would have died, and I couldn't let that happen, not when there was a chance I could save you.”

A brittle laugh escapes me. “Begging my sister to save me doesn’t mean I signed up for fangs and fur.”

Cassidy reaches for my hand, but I pull it back.

The rejection stings; I can see the slight recoil, but I can't help it.

I should feel bad, but I don't. I want her to feel even an ounce of what I'm feeling.

Petty? Ungrateful? Probably, but I can't seem to help it.

She's my big sister. She's supposed to protect me, but what she's done doesn't feel at all like protection. It feels as if I've been cursed.

She leaves me but returns with a tray carrying coffee, toast, and fruit arranged like a still life.

The sight should comfort me and arouse my hunger, but it does not.

Cassidy’s perfume, Gardenia Noir by L'Atelier , rides the steam of the coffee; top notes of bergamot flick my nose, jasmine settles behind it, and a waxy gardenia root runs through it like an undercurrent.

Instead, my nostrils flare as the scent rolls over me like a tidal wave.

The coffee bites metallic on my tongue, the bread tastes overworked, and the fruit leans syrup-sweet as if everyone in the kitchen poured sugar on purpose.

Cassidy is at my side in an instant, steadying me as I shove the tray away.

Her grip is firm, her eyes full of worry.

“Your senses are heightened,” she says gently, as if speaking too loud might shatter me.

“The world is going to feel sharper, harsher. It will take time before you learn to balance it.”

“Heightened?” I snarl. “Try derailed. I can smell the cleaning solution from beyond the door. The refrigerator hum is louder than it should be, the same two-note thrum from this morning turning sharp and metallic, every motor whine magnified until it feels deafening. This is not normal.”

She flinches but keeps her tone calm. “It is now.”

A band of pressure restricts my breathing for a beat. “So what am I, Cass? A freak show? A science experiment gone wrong?”

“You’re like me,” she says softly. “Like Rush. Like the others.”

The others. Team W. The names spin through my mind, but instead of comfort they leave me reeling. My head swims as a rush of confusion and dread all but overwhelms me. I press my palms to my temples, desperate to hold myself together, terrified that if I let go I’ll splinter apart completely.

“You turned me into some kind of monster and think it's okay because there are others?”

Cassidy’s eyes flash with hurt. “We’re not monsters.”

“Funny. I'm pretty sure that’s exactly what the monsters would say. Oh wait, I am one of those monsters and that's exactly what I'd say, but it isn't true.”

I know I shouldn't be so accusatory. I know she saved my life, but what kind of life has she left me with?

The hours blur, my body swinging between exhaustion and restlessness.

I get up, pull on some clothes and pace the room, every step measured and controlled.

Cassidy comes in and out hovering, worrying, smoothing my path like she can fix this with fresh linens and soft words.

I snap at her, then apologize, then snap again.

It’s a vicious cycle neither of us seems to be able to escape.

She tries to distract me with stories of her own transition—how the first time she woke, she could smell the perfume worn by a woman two floors down, how her hearing caught the flutter of a moth’s wings in the dark.

I want to scoff, but too much of what she says mirrors what I feel now.

My senses are a riot I can’t silence. A neighbor’s dog barking outside on the promenade makes me bare my teeth in response, a sound I don’t recognize until Cassidy lays a calming hand on my arm.

I jerk my arm away. “Stop touching me,” I snarl. "You've touched me more than enough." I don’t mean any of it, but I can't seem to stop myself.

Even as I want to fight or deny it, the contact steadies me.

Night falls and the world only grows darker, every detail pressing in more keenly. Outside the city pulses through the windows: honking horns, conversations on sidewalks, the bass from a passing car’s stereo, the sound of the waves. Every sense and emotion layering in on top of me.

I close my eyes and cover my ears with a pillow but the sounds press through anyway. I stagger to the window and stare down at the street below and the beach and ocean beyond. They seem impossibly far and yet so close, every detail etched into me like a brand.

“You’ll learn control,” Cassidy says quietly behind me. “It doesn’t have to feel like this forever.”

“And until then?” I whisper. “What if I go mad between now and then? What if I lose it? What if I hurt someone?”

Her silence is answer enough. The thought chills me more than the thought of her bite ever did.

The next morning I push myself out of bed, determined not to remain feeling like a prisoner locked in a cage.

I test my body, stretching, moving, trying to find limits.

The scar at my chest pulls faintly but otherwise there is no weakness.

Instead I feel power thrumming in my muscles, wound tight and waiting. I pace, restless.

I rummage through my things Cassidy has brought me, and pull out a pair of leggings and an oversized sweater. They're soft, comfortable, familiar. I slide into them, my movements too fluid, too precise. Even the brush of cotton against my skin feels foreign.

A wave of vertigo makes me pause, bracing one hand against the wall. My body hums with strength I didn’t earn, energy that isn’t mine. It feels stolen, foreign. Like I’ve been rewired into something new, but no one gave me the manual.

Over breakfast I toy with a piece of toast, ripping it to shreds more than eating and sniffing more than sipping my coffee.

Cassidy tries again to explain. “You’ll get stronger. Faster. You’ll heal from things that would kill others. But it comes with responsibility, Sadie.”

“Responsibility,” I repeat flatly. “You mean secrecy. Hiding. Pretending to be normal while I’m not.”

"You are normal, just a different kind of normal.

" Her voice doesn't betray her desperate hope that I'll believe her, but her eyes say everything. Cassidy’s mouth tightens. “There are rules about this, Sadie. Turning without consent isn’t just frowned on—it’s forbidden. If anyone outside this family finds out what I did…” She lets the sentence trail off, but the warning hangs heavy.

I throw the toast down and stalk across the room, pulling open the curtains with a violent snap.

The view of the Galveston promenade and the ocean beyond sprawls beneath me, etched with a crystalline clarity.

My new vision cuts through the haze, revealing every detail: a man jogging along the beach with his dog, a street vendor grilling meat, a couple arguing beside a car.

Each moment is alive, and each feels like it could swallow me whole.

“I don’t want this,” I whisper to my reflection in the glass. “I never asked for this.”

Cassidy joins me at the window, her hand hovering as though afraid to touch me again. “I know, but you're alive Sadie. You can do what you like. You can live the life you wanted to."

I bark a laugh. "Can I?"

"Yes. You have to be more selective with whom you share what you have become, but it doesn't have to be limiting. You'll live; you'll learn, and maybe one day you'll forgive me for what I did to save you.”

“I wouldn't hold my breath if I were you." I shake my head. "I'm sorry, Cass. I get it, I do. You did what you did to save my life, but save it from what? Death? From living as I did before? From being human?”