Page 78 of Roulette Rodeo (Jackknife Ridge Ranch #1)

RECOVERY AND REVELATIONS

~RED~

" Y ou're gonna give her a concussion with all this crying."

Malrik's dry observation does nothing to stem the flood of tears currently soaking through my hospital gown as Poppy clings to me like I might disappear if she lets go.

Her mascara—waterproof, she'd claimed—is creating abstract art on both our shoulders, and her theatrical sobs are probably disturbing patients three floors down.

I pat her head gently, mindful of the IV line in my hand and the various monitors attached to me. "There, there. You know I wasn't going to die."

"What would I have done without my bestie?

!" Poppy wails, pulling back just enough to look at me with raccoon eyes that would be comical if she wasn't so genuinely distraught.

"Who's going to flaunt with me when a new fashion release comes out?

Who's going to appreciate my vintage finds?

Who's going to understand that sometimes a girl needs three different shades of red lipstick because they all have different moods? "

"I'm sure you'd manage," Malrik says, crossing his arms as he leans against the window. "Maybe find another omega who appreciates your particular brand of chaos?—"

Poppy's foot shoots out with impressive accuracy, catching his chair leg and sending him tumbling to the floor with an undignified yelp. The crash is loud enough that a nurse pokes her head in, takes one look at Malrik sprawled on the linoleum, and apparently decides she doesn't want to know.

I can't help but smirk as he glares up at Poppy from the floor. "Real mature."

"Real accurate," she counters, flipping her silver-white hair over her shoulder with dramatic flair.

The nurse clears her throat from the doorway—a different one this time, older with that no-nonsense energy that comes from decades of dealing with difficult patients and even more difficult visitors.

"Sorry to interrupt, but visiting hours ended ten minutes ago. Only pack members can stay overnight."

Poppy's face crumples again, fresh tears threatening, but she nods.

"Okay. I'll visit in the morning." She turns to me, gripping my hands carefully.

"I'll bring you good food from the bakery.

Those maple donuts you love. And special breakfast from Duke—the restaurant Duke, not the dog Duke, though I'm sure dog Duke would bring you breakfast if he could carry it. "

"I'm seriously fine," I assure her, squeezing her hands back. "Minor concussion from the fall, some smoke inhalation that makes me sound like I've been chain-smoking for forty years, but other than that, I'm legitimately okay. So no more tears, alright?"

She sobs anyway, mascara Rivers gaining new tributaries. "I really thought you were a goner. When they pulled you out of that hole, you were so still, and there was blood, and?—"

"Me too," I admit with a laugh that's only slightly hysterical.

"But I guess heaven rejected me. Too badass for such a typical novel ending.

" I gesture wildly, nearly pulling out my IV before remembering it's attached.

"Like, female main character dies tragically in fire after saving her pack of sexy muscular men and doesn't even get to enjoy a pack orgy?

The audacity! What kind of unsatisfying ending is that? "

Poppy bursts into laughter through her tears. "SEE! I told you the universe was gonna play in your face if you don't ride those men like you did that mechanical bull! The cosmic forces demand satisfaction!"

I groan, sinking back into the uncomfortable hospital pillows. "Yes, yes, you were right. Bite me. Now let me hurry up and heal so I can take turns with my men bucking me up, down, sideways, and upside down. Maybe simultaneously if we get creative with the positioning."

"That's the spirit!" She claps her hands together. "Though I'm not sure the physics of simultaneously?—"

"We'll figure it out," I say with confidence I don't entirely feel. "There are four of them. We'll make it work."

Malrik pushes himself up from the floor, brushing off his jeans with exaggerated dignity. "Well, since you're officially on medical leave from the gym—paid leave, by the way, because I'm not a monster—you've got plenty of time for your sexual physics experiments."

"You're making me sound like a prostitute," I complain, but I'm grinning. "Now skidaddle before the nurse comes back with security."

He laughs, moving to give me a careful hug that avoids all the medical equipment. "I'm really glad you're okay, Red. What you did was brave as fuck—pulling four grown men out of a burning building? That's superhero-level shit. But never, ever do something that stupid again."

"Well, hopefully they don't get drugged and have their barn burned down at this point," I say, trying for levity but hearing the edge in my own voice.

"Though apparently small towns have a weirdly high fire risk considering you all have fire departments two towns over.

Speaking of which..." I turn to Poppy. "Why the hell was Briar with the fire department? How is she even here?"

Poppy's grin turns wicked, the kind that usually precedes the best gossip. "Oh honey, you're gonna love this. So apparently, our dear Briar has a talent for cards—shocking, I know—and there's this fire chief from the department two towns over who has a nasty gambling addiction."

"No," I breathe, already seeing where this is going.

"Yes," she confirms with glee. "He thought he could win big at some underground game, put Briar up as collateral because he's a piece of shit who thinks omegas are property, and then?—"

"Lost," I finish, horror and awe battling for dominance. "He lost her to the fire department?"

"Won her," Poppy corrects with finger quotes. "Which apparently means she's 'with' the whole damn department now. All twelve of them."

My jaw drops, and I feel the heart monitor spike slightly. "Wait. WAIT. She's fucking the whole department?!"

Poppy whistles low and appreciative. "Girl, I didn't know your best friend who saved your ass could round up an army of sexy, fit firemen to bow to her command, but damn.

" She fans herself dramatically. "This small town's going to need that fire station to move right into Jackknife Ridge because I think that's gonna attract us some serious alpha talent.

Hot firefighters everywhere? Sign me up for whatever building's burning next. "

"How about no," Malrik groans, but he's fighting a smile. "I'm good with just you for now. Don't need you running off with some helmet-wearing hero who actually knows how to use his hose."

"Aww, aren't you sweet!" Poppy coos, linking her arm through his. "Let's go fuck now that I know my bestie is alive and I don't have to do my own crime detective investigation like some horror thriller author."

She pauses at the door, eyes lighting up with that manic energy that means she's had An Idea.

"Actually! I'm gonna write this whole thing as a book!

Call it 'Crimson Roulette'—the spicy, steamy cowboy romance!

Oh, and it has to be cozy too because it's fall season.

The perfect balance of sweet autumn vibes and complete mayhem.

Maybe throw in some pumpkin spice lattes and murder. Readers eat that shit up."

I groan, pulling a pillow over my face. "Please don't write a book about my madness of a life. No one would believe it anyway."

"Are you kidding? Omega auction, fake cowboys who are actually real cowboys, underground fighting rings, casino escapes, mechanical bull riding in body glitter, and a dramatic fire rescue? This writes itself! I'll make millions!"

"At least change the names," I beg through the pillow.

"Obviously. You'll be... Scarlett. And the pack can be the... Fortunate Spades? No, wait, the Lucky Diamond crew!"

"That's worse," Malrik informs her. "So much worse."

"I'm a creative genius in progress," she defends. "Rome wasn't built in a day, and neither are bestselling romance novels. Though I bet I could knock out the first draft in a week if I'm properly motivated." She waggles her eyebrows at Malrik. "Want to help me with research for the sex scenes?"

"Out," the nurse says firmly from the doorway, clearly having reached her patience limit. "Both of you. Now."

They leave in a flurry of air kisses and promises to return tomorrow with contraband food and gossip, their laughter echoing down the hospital corridor. The sudden quiet feels strange after Poppy's chaotic energy, just the steady beep of monitors and the distant sounds of hospital life.

I sink back into the pillows, exhaustion hitting me all at once.

The adrenaline that's been keeping me alert and joking around drains away, leaving me aware of every ache and pain.

My throat feels like sandpaper, my lungs burn with each deep breath, and the concussion makes everything slightly fuzzy around the edges.

But I'm alive.

My pack is alive.

Briar is somehow here and apparently commanding a small army of firefighters through what I can only assume is sexual prowess and sheer force of will. Classic Briar.

The door opens again, softer this time, and I expect the nurse coming to check vitals or adjust medications. Instead, four familiar scents wash over me—ice and winter storms, cedar and rain, amber and smoke, medicinal pine—and suddenly the hospital room feels less sterile.

"Hey," I whisper, throat too raw for anything louder.

They file in like they're approaching something fragile, something that might shatter if they move too fast or speak too loud.

Shiloh reaches me first, his hand immediately finding mine, careful of the IV.

Talon takes the chair Poppy vacated, pulling it closer to the bed.

Corwin starts checking the monitors with professional interest, probably comparing treatments to what he would have done.

And Rafe... Rafe stands at the foot of the bed, looking at me like I'm a ghost he's afraid to believe in.

"You fucking idiot," he says, and his voice cracks completely.

"Nice to see you too, Ice King," I manage, trying for levity, but then he's moving, crossing the space in two strides and carefully, so carefully, pulling me into his arms.

"You went back," he whispers against my hair. "You saved us all and then you went back for things that don't matter, things that?—"

"They matter to you," I interrupt, even though talking hurts. "So they matter to me."

He pulls back enough to look at me, and his eyes are red-rimmed, devastated. "Not more than you. Nothing matters more than you."

The words hang between us, heavy with meaning, with everything we haven't said these past months. About Sophia, about the past, about what we're building together.

"Well," I say, trying to lighten the moment before we all start crying, "good thing I'm too stubborn to die. Plus, I made a promise to Poppy about riding you all like mechanical bulls, and I keep my promises."

Talon chokes on air. "You what?"

"Poppy says the universe is going to be mean if I don't start having creative sex with you all," I explain seriously. "And after nearly dying in a fire, I'm not about to tempt fate. So once I'm healed, we're doing this. All of us. Possibly simultaneously, though the logistics are still unclear."

"Jesus Christ," Corwin mutters, but he's smiling.

"Our omega nearly dies and comes back hornier than ever," Shiloh says with something between exasperation and fondness. "Of course she does."

"I prefer to think of it as goal-oriented," I correct. "And my goal is to scandalize this entire town even more than I already have. Starting with you four and working my way up to truly shocking levels of public affection."

"You already called me 'Daddy Rafe' in front of three hundred people," Rafe points out, color rising in his cheeks.

"That was just the warm-up," I inform him cheerfully. "Wait until you see what I have planned for the harvest festival."

They all groan in unison, but none of them let go. Shiloh's still holding my hand, Talon's fingers are tangled in my hair, Corwin's hand rests on my ankle over the blanket, and Rafe hasn't moved from where he's pressed against my side.

"No more heroics," Rafe says firmly. "No more running into burning buildings. No more self-sacrifice."

"Says the man who threatened Marnay to his face," I counter.

They all go still.

"About that," I say, and my voice drops to something serious. "We need to talk about what happened. This wasn't random. Those weren't real contractors. And I know exactly whose handiwork this was."

"The drug," Corwin says quietly. "I recognized it once I could think clearly. It's not something you can just buy."

"Crimson Roulette special blend," I confirm. "Marnay's signature when he needs someone compliant but can't risk killing them. The fire was probably meant to do that part after."

The rage that fills the room is palpable, four alphas processing the reality that someone tried to murder their entire pack. But I'm already thinking ahead, already planning.

"He made a mistake though," I say, a smile pulling at my lips despite everything.

"What mistake?" Shiloh asks.

"He didn't make sure I was dead. And now I know exactly how to destroy him."

They exchange glances, and I see the moment they understand. This isn't over. Marnay started a war, but I'm going to finish it.

But first, I need to heal. Need to get strong again.

And maybe, just maybe, finally act on all this tension that's been building for months. Because if nearly dying taught me anything, it's that life is too short to keep dancing around what we all want.

"But that's tomorrow's problem," I say, exhaustion pulling at me again. "Tonight, can you all just... stay?"

"Wild horses couldn't drag us away," Talon promises.

And as I drift off to sleep, surrounded by my pack, safe despite everything, I can hear them laughing at the irony of it all.