Page 67 of Roulette Rodeo (Jackknife Ridge Ranch #1)

"Go look sexy," I tell her with a grin. "But not too sexy that we gotta call the fire department."

She laughs, the sound lighter than it's been since Marnay showed up. "Yes, Alpha."

"FIFTEEN MINUTES!" Poppy yells from the truck. "You have fifteen minutes or we're leaving without you!"

"I can be ready in five!" Red calls back, already running toward the house.

We watch her go, that nervous energy transformed into excitement. When the door closes behind her, the atmosphere shifts immediately. The four of us exchange looks that communicate everything without words.

"The gym owner?" Talon asks, studying Malrik with new interest.

"The one who's supposedly setting up omega self-defense classes," Corwin adds.

Malrik nods, his whole demeanor shifting from playful to serious. "Red probably mentioned me. I taught her to fight back in Vegas. Kept her as safe as I could before I had to disappear."

"Why?" Rafe asks, his CEO voice in full effect. "What was your interest in her?"

"No interest beyond keeping another omega from becoming another statistic," Malrik says flatly.

"You know how many omegas die in places like the Crimson Roulette?

Not from the obvious violence, but from the slow drain?

The drugs, the despair, the gradual erosion of self until there's nothing left but a pretty shell? "

He shakes his head, anger flashing in those unusual eyes.

"Red had fire. Still had fight in her. That's rare after even a few months in that place.

So yeah, I taught her to throw a punch, to break a hold, to go for the eyes if someone got too close.

" He meets each of our gazes steadily. "And before you ask, no, I never touched her beyond training.

Not my type, for one thing. For another, she was saving herself for something better. Guess she found it."

"She found us," I correct, not liking the implication that we're just 'something better' rather than her pack, her mates, her everything.

"Sure," Malrik agrees easily. "And then Marnay found you."

The casual mention of what just happened tells me he knows more than he should.

"How did you?—"

"Passed his tacky Bentley on the way here," Malrik explains. "Man drives like everyone should part for him like the Red Sea. Plus, Poppy's got her ear to the ground. Lots of chatter about omegas being recalled to Vegas, about certain establishments trying to recover 'lost assets.'"

"Red's not an asset," Talon growls.

"No," Malrik agrees. "She's bait."

We all stiffen at that, but he continues before we can respond.

"Think about it. Marnay doesn't need Red specifically.

He's got dozens of omegas. But Red? The hundred-million-dollar omega who went to the mysterious Lucky Ace Pack?

She's the prize that proves he's still in control, still the king of his little kingdom even with the government breathing down his neck. "

"He wants to make a statement," Corwin says, understanding dawning in his voice.

"Exactly. Taking her back from you isn't about money or even about her specifically. It's about showing everyone that nobody's beyond his reach. That even a pack with your reputation can't keep him from taking what he considers his."

"He's going to be disappointed," Rafe says quietly, and there's something in his tone that makes even Malrik reassess him.

"I'm counting on it," Malrik says with a grin that's all teeth.

"I didn't spend six months planning my escape from Vegas just to watch Red get dragged back.

She deserves this life. Deserves you all, even if you're clearly emotionally constipated alphas who don't know what to do with genuine affection. "

"Excuse me?" I bristle, but he waves me off.

"Please. She's been here three months and you're all still dancing around each other like teenagers at prom.

Well, except for soldier boy here who at least had the balls to make a move.

" He gives me a mock salute. "Good job on that, by the way.

She was starting to think none of you actually wanted her. "

How does he even know all this shit?

"That's not—" Corwin starts, but Poppy's horn cuts him off.

"FIVE MINUTES ARE UP! WHERE IS SHE?"

As if summoned, the front door flies open and Red emerges, having somehow completely transformed in the promised five minutes.

Gone are the comfortable clothes she'd been wearing.

Now she's in dark jeans that hug every curve, a deep red tank top under a black leather jacket I didn't know she owned, and boots that add a couple inches to her height.

Her hair is pulled up in a messy bun that somehow looks both casual and styled, and she's added just enough makeup to enhance rather than hide.

She looks dangerous. Confident. Like the woman who boxed in lingerie and set a casino full of alphas on fire with want.

"How?" Talon mutters. "How did she do that in five minutes?"

"Three years of quick changes between performances," Red says, having heard him. "You learn to be efficient."

She does a little spin, the jacket flaring out. "Too much?"

"Perfect," Malrik assures her. "You'll fit right in at the rodeo."

"Rodeo?" I ask, suspicious.

"Not an actual rodeo," Poppy calls out, already climbing back into the truck. "It's what the locals call the monthly omega gathering at the fairgrounds. Like a farmers market meets social club meets 'let's get drunk and gossip about our alphas.'"

"Sounds thrilling," Rafe says dryly.

"It's actually fun," Red defends, but she's smiling.

"I went last month, remember? You guys dropped me off but had to deal with the wild bull running through town.” Oh…

we forgot about that. Now the idea of missing it makes me want to go.

“They have amazing food, local crafts, and yes, lots of gossip.

But also, it's one of the few places omegas can just exist without alphas hovering. "

The pointed look she gives us suggests we've been doing our share of hovering.

"Fine," I concede. "But location tracking stays on, and you text if anything seems off."

"Yes, sir," she says with a mock salute that mirrors Malrik's earlier one.

She kisses each of us goodbye—even Rafe, who looks startled but doesn't pull away—then climbs into the truck. Poppy immediately starts talking a mile a minute about something involving someone named Brittany and a scandal with two alphas and a hot tub.

As they drive away, Red waves through the back window, looking happier than she has in days despite everything that just happened.

"We need to talk," Rafe says once the truck disappears around the bend.

"Yeah," I agree, already running through tactical scenarios in my mind. "Marnay's not going to give up."

"He's going to escalate," Corwin adds. "Men like him always do when they don't get what they want."

"He can certainly try," Talon says, cracking his knuckles. "I've been itching for a proper fight."

We head inside, but my mind is already elsewhere. Thinking about contingencies, escape routes, safe houses. All the things I'd stopped considering when we'd settled into this peaceful life.

Because Malrik was right about one thing— Red is bait now . Marnay has shown his hand, made his interest clear. And men like him don't take no for an answer, not when their empire is at stake.

But he's about to learn something that might be the last lesson of his life: we're not the civilized pack he thinks we are.

We're not reformed or domesticated or any of the other lies we tell the good people of Jackknife Ridge.

We're killers, trained in different schools but all graduating with the same degree in violence.

We've just been very, very good at pretending otherwise.

The house feels different without Red in it—quieter, less alive. Duke whines from his bed, clearly missing his favorite person already. I know how he feels. Three months and she's already become essential, the center our pack orbits around even when we're all too stubborn to admit it.

"We need to make some calls," Rafe says, already pulling out his phone. "Reactivate some connections we've let go dormant."

"I'll check our weapons inventory," I offer. "Make sure everything's still operational."

"I'll review the security footage," Corwin adds. "See if Marnay left any surprises."

"And I'll go have a chat with some people in town," Talon says with a grin that promises trouble. "See what the word is about strange visitors asking questions."

We all pause at the door, looking at each other. This is it—the moment we decide whether to maintain our facade of normalcy or embrace what we really are for the sake of keeping Red safe.

It's not even a question.

We move in different directions, each to our assigned task, but our goal is singular. Our purpose united. The look we share before separating says everything without words, cueing that we'll talk more once Red gets back, but the priority now is clear.

Keep Red safe and theirs.