Page 20 of Ranger’s Oath (Lone Star Wolf Rangers #5)

SADIE

T he laser trip discovery gnaws at me like teeth against bone.

Someone stood inside the fence. Not just watching, but close enough to mark us.

The thought rattles around my skull as I prowl the hallways.

Panic flares, but I press it down, forcing my thoughts into order.

Problem-solving has always been my anchor.

Cassidy meets me near the kitchen, eyes scanning the same places mine do. “Baseboards, vents, molding. If they slipped something in, it’ll be small. Fiber cameras, maybe.” Her tone is clipped, like she hates that she didn’t catch it sooner.

We sweep in tandem, shoulders brushing as we crouch low, check seams, shine our lights along lines most people ignore.

The hum of the refrigerator fills the silence, punctuated by the soft click of her nail tapping against wood.

I drag my fingers along the crown molding and pause.

There. A glint. Not dust, not paint. A lens.

My chest tightens, but my hand steadies.

I tilt my phone, snap a picture, and type without thinking:

Found your blind spot.

Cassidy glances at the screen, lips twitching. “Oh, he’s going to love that. You really do enjoy poking the bear.”

I shrug, a grin slipping free despite the tension. “Not a bear, a wolf, and it’s better than waiting for him to find out on his own. He’d lecture me twice as long.”

Cassidy chuckles low, shaking her head. “You realize you’re addicted to pushing his buttons, right? That man runs on control, and you light matches around him like its sport.”

The message pings away, and a thrill of anticipation runs through me at the thought of his reaction.

I don’t have to wait long. Each footfall grows louder, reverberating down the hall with the promise of a storm about to break.

The air seems to tighten before Gage fills the doorway, shoulders set, jaw rigid, presence rolling into the room with force enough to steal my breath.

“You went looking without telling me?” His voice is low, dangerous.

I lift my chin. “Would you rather I left it there, streaming us to whoever’s watching?”

His gaze cuts to the corner where the camera winks back. Fury flashes in his eyes before it snaps back to me. “You could’ve been taken or worse taken out by a sniper. You don’t put yourself in the line like that. That’s my job.”

I straighten to my full height, fire sparking in my chest. “I’m not cargo, Ranger. I won’t sit in a box and wait for you to decide if I get to breathe. I’m part of this whether you like it or not.”

His growl vibrates the air, a low warning that should scare me but only makes my pulse quicken. “You are the point of this op, Sadie. Don’t you get it? Everything we’re doing is to keep you alive.”

“Then stop treating me like glass,” I snap. “I’ve survived worse than you know. You think you’re the only one allowed to fight? Watch me.”

The argument spirals, sharp words sparking until the air between us feels like it could ignite.

Heat radiates from him, drawing me in despite every warning in my head.

His shoulders bunch, chest rising and falling with the effort to leash his temper, and I know the sensible move would be to retreat.

Instead, I close the distance, slowly and deliberately, until my chest grazes his and I feel the tremor of restraint running through him.

He exhales sharply, the sound ragged, then drags both hands through his hair as if forcing himself to a stop. Instead of breaking me against the wall, he takes a slow step back, still close enough that the heat of him presses against my skin. His voice is low, not commanding now but careful.

“Sit,” he says, nodding toward the edge of the kitchen table.

Wariness prickles, but I obey. He pulls a chair around, straddles it, and rests his forearms across the back. The posture isn’t dominance; it’s something else—open, steady, almost an attempt at truce.

The silence stretches until I break it. “So what’s the point of this? Interrogation?”

“No.” His gaze softens. “I don’t want the next time we end up pressed against a wall to be the only way we talk.”

The admission unravels something tight in my chest. Against my better judgment, I let the quiet fill with honesty.

“I used to think I knew every exit in a ballroom better than the caterers did. I could time a toast to keep a donor from wandering, distract a press contact until the right board member showed up. I was good at controlling a room.” I swallow. “Now the rooms feel like cages.”

His eyes track me, dark but intent. “I grew up running cattle and learning how to patch fences before I was old enough to drive. The military was escape. Ranger school was discipline. Then every op became about control—terrain, target, timing. Now?” His jaw flexes.

“Now I’m terrified of losing control where you’re concerned.

Terrified I’ll fail you the one time it matters. ”

The confession slices through me, sharper than the earlier argument. I lean forward, elbows braced on my knees. “You don’t fail. It’s practically tattooed on your forehead. I’m the one who screws up.”

“Don’t do that,” he says softly. “Don’t tear yourself down before they can.” His hand shifts, knuckles brushing mine, hesitant but steady. “What scares you the most, Sadie? Not the mission. You.”

The words tumble out before I can stop them. “That I’ll forget who I was. That this bite, this new skin, means I’ll vanish into something I can’t control. That one day I’ll look in the mirror and not see me at all.”

His hand closes fully around mine, rough and warm. “You’re still you. Stubborn. Sharp-tongued. Impossible. None of that changed tonight, and it won’t tomorrow. The wolf doesn’t erase you. It just adds teeth.”

For a long moment we sit there, hands linked, breathing in sync.

It’s not peace, not really, but it’s closer than anything we’ve had since this started.

My chest loosens, and when he finally stands, he tugs me up with him.

The look in his eyes is steady fire, tempered now, no longer just rage or hunger.

The charged air shifts, turning warmer, more dangerous in a different way. My pulse trips, not from fear but from the truth sitting between us—that what started as survival is becoming something far harder to ignore.

Something inside him snaps. Control shatters, and suddenly his mouth is on mine—hard, demanding, hungry—stealing the air from my lungs and replacing it with fire.

My back hits the wall with a jolt, his hands planted on either side of my head, caging me in with heat and strength, a prison I crave rather than resist.

I arch into him, breath tangled in the wet clash of our mouths.

His hands explore with slow purpose, tracing every line of me as if he intends to memorize the shape.

My tank top rides up, baring skin to the heat of his lips as he works lower, leaving a searing trail along my throat, over the delicate slope of my collarbone, and further still until every nerve feels awake and waiting.

“Gage...” My protest dies on a gasp as he drops to his knees, pushing my leggings off in one swift move.

The cool air brushes my skin, but his heat replaces it instantly.

His mouth covers my breast first, tongue circling, sucking until I cry out, then shifting to the other, dragging another helpless moan from my throat.

His hands frame my hips as he works lower, leaving a trail of wet heat down my stomach until he buries himself between my thighs.

His mouth latches onto my clit with ruthless precision, tongue flicking and sucking in a rhythm that leaves me unraveling.

My hands fist in his hair, dragging him closer, nails biting against his scalp as I fight to anchor myself while the world spins out of control, pleasure tearing through me with a ferocity that steals every thought.

Cassidy’s muffled laugh carries from the kitchen doorway, a quick glimpse of her before she wisely disappears.

The interruption only fuels the raw need building between us, as if being caught on the edge of something so forbidden drives us harder, hotter, until the air itself feels charged with reckless desire.

Pleasure rips through me in merciless surges, leaving no room to breathe.

Every stroke of his tongue is ruthless precision, breaking me down piece by piece until there’s nothing left but need.

My thighs clamp around his shoulders, desperate to hold him there, and a raw moan tears from my throat, echoing through the kitchen before I can choke it back.

When I shatter, it’s raw and consuming, leaving me boneless against the wall.

But he isn’t done. He rises in one fluid motion, tugging me into his arms. My legs wrap around his waist as he lifts and carries me down the hall, but instead of the bed he sets me down on my knees, guiding me with steady hands, the move both commanding and intoxicating.

I return the favor, sliding my hands down his body, opening his zipper as I free him and take him into my mouth, savoring the way his breath catches and his muscles lock under my touch.

My tongue swirls around him, lips tightening as I work him deeper with deliberate care, drawing raw curses from his throat as his control unravels.

The taste of his arousal mixes with the guttural sound in his chest, his hips twitching despite his effort to hold back.

Just as I sense the tremor that warns he is about to come undone, his hands clamp around my arms, lifting me effortlessly away from him. With a rough sound, he tosses me onto the mattress, eyes blazing as he looms over me.

The bed dips under me a breath before he follows, his weight pressing me into the mattress, pinning me with a dominance that steals thought.

Heat radiates from his skin as he strips the last barrier away, and then he drives into me, deep and relentless, filling me in a way that makes me cry out.

My hands clutch his shoulders, nails digging as he takes me with a rhythm that feels both ruthless and reverent.

Every thrust brands me, every kiss is a command and a promise all at once, dragging me closer to the edge with a hunger that feels impossible to deny.

We move in a fevered rhythm, bodies sliding together in a frenzy that feels both reckless and inevitable.

Sweat runs between us, every brush of skin sparking deeper hunger.

He lowers his face to my throat, the scrape of his teeth a tantalizing threat, hovering on the edge of surrender yet never giving in.

My body tightens around him, drawing a guttural groan from his chest that shakes through me, and still he reins himself in, holding back the final mark even as we break apart together in raw, consuming pleasure.

Afterward, we collapse in a tangle of limbs, my cheek resting on the hard rise and fall of his chest. His skin is slick against mine, heat still radiating as the storm of our bodies slowly ebbs.

The silence between us isn’t empty; it thrums with unsaid words and unspoken promises, a low current that feels as intimate as the act itself.

I whisper, “I’m scared.”

His hand smooths over my hair, grounding. “Of what?”

“Of losing myself. Of disappearing into this new... thing I didn’t choose.” My throat tightens. “What if I’m not me anymore?”

He presses a kiss into my hair. “You’re still you. Fierce, stubborn, impossible. And I’m terrified too—terrified of failing you.”

I lift my head, searching his face. Vulnerability lies open in his eyes, unguarded for once, and the sight cuts through me. My chest tightens with something that feels larger than fear, raw and consuming.

We stay entwined, heat slowly fading from our skin, breaths syncing in an unsteady rhythm.

The weight of our satisfaction anchors us, yet beneath it our thoughts still race.

His thumb drags along the edge of my jaw in a slow stroke that makes my pulse stutter, and I realize with a jolt that despite everything—danger, secrets, desire—this man, this Ranger, is the only thing keeping me from unraveling.

I tease lightly, needing the banter to ground me. “So what now, Ranger? You going to lock me in a box again?”

His lips twitch at that, the tension softening for a heartbeat. “You make it sound like I could keep you anywhere you don’t want to be.”

I roll my eyes, tapping my finger against his chest. “Please. You couldn’t keep me out of trouble for a single night if you tried. Admit it—I’m unmanageable.”

His mouth curves, this time with something darker behind it. “Unmanageable, yes. Untouchable? Not a chance.” He leans down, brushing his lips over mine again, softer, almost reverent. The contrast makes my breath hitch.

We drift into a quieter pause, this one warmer, as though the storm between us has burned itself out for now.

My eyelids grow heavy, his heartbeat steady beneath my cheek, when the sharp buzz of my phone cuts through the hush from the nightstand.

Kari’s name flares across the screen. I hesitate, loath to fracture the fragile peace wrapping around us, but the insistent vibration refuses to be ignored.

With a reluctant breath, I reach over and swipe it open.

The message is short, but the words punch harder than any bullet:

Donor who funds the vendor secured a favor from state trooper commander. Commander’s nephew tied to island crew.

I meet Gage’s eyes, breath catching. His jaw sets, muscles taut as if bracing for impact.

Calculation flickers behind his gaze, but it is laced with a fury that makes my stomach twist. This isn’t just corruption—it cuts close, too close.

A betrayal woven into the fabric of people meant to protect us.

It’s personal. And it feels like it’s pressing in from right outside these walls.