Page 18 of The Auction (The Black Ledger Billionaires #4)

J axon has been holed up in the largest of his extra bedrooms for days. I’m still not sure what he’s doing in there, but it’s loud. Things keep getting carried in and out. There’s drilling. Cursing. The occasional thunk that sounds like he’s dropped something heavy enough to dent the floor.

The guest room I flooded— or he flooded, depending on who you ask—is still being demoed, so whatever project he’s working on has taken over this space instead. His tech rooms.

Right now, I’m at the table with my iPad, sketching while he takes apart something that looks…

expensive. Cables and shiny metal guts are spread across the table like he’s dissecting a robot.

Music plays low from his playlist—one of my favorite songs comes on—and before I even realize it, I’m smiling.

He’s singing. Quiet, almost under his breath. But he’s good. Not in a trained, perfect way, but in a deep, easy way that slides under your skin. His dark hair falls slightly in his eyes as he works, brows drawn together in concentration, tongue caught at the corner of his mouth.

God, he looks cute when he’s focused.

I must be staring, because he glances up and hits me with one of those panty-soaking smirks that should be illegal.

“What?” His voice is low, teasing.

“Nothing,” I say quickly, forcing my eyes back to my screen even though my cheeks feel warm. I keep the smile, though. I can’t help it.

He watches me a moment longer, like he’s debating whether to call me out, then goes back to work.

A minute later, he’s humming again. Then singing.

Softer this time, almost mumbling like he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it.

I never knew he liked to sing. I wonder if he actually does… but I don’t press.

The room he’s working in is making me jealous. The windows are massive, flooding the space with the kind of light that would make painting here a dream. I keep imagining a giant easel in the corner, canvases leaning against the walls, the smell of turpentine instead of soldering metal.

He walks past carrying another armful of tech, disappearing into the next room when my phone chimes and kills my mood in a second.

JONATHAN: Someone’s coming by the house to grab something this afternoon.

CASSIDY: Who? And what are they “grabbing”?

A few minutes with no reply I send another.

CASSIDY: Hello?

Who is coming by the house and what are they supposed to be getting? Some details would be nice.

Still no reply back. Like I’m not worthy of one. Like the specifics don’t matter.

I debate inviting Jaxon along but there’s just some family secrets that need to stay in the family. This is one of them.

I push my chair back. “I’m going to check on Mom. I’ll be gone for a while.”

His head pops out of the doorway. “You’ll be back for dinner?”

“Yeah,” I promise, grabbing my bag.

His mouth quirks like he’s about to say something, but instead he just nods and disappears back into his mystery project.

M om’s feeling good today—one of those rare, bright afternoons where her energy holds steady—so we decide to walk down to the stables together. The sun’s warm, the breeze carries that mix of hay and sweet grass, and for a little while, it almost feels normal.

We’re giving Grace some extra oats when my phone buzzes in my back pocket. I wipe my hands on my jeans and pull it out.

JONATHAN: They’ll be there in 5.

I frown, reading it twice like maybe I missed something. They? My stomach knots. I fire back immediately.

CASSIDY: Who is “they”?

Three dots never appear. I’m already typing again before I can think.

CASSIDY: Jonathan. What’s going on?

No reply. The longer I stare at the screen, the worse the bad feeling gets—like the air itself is thickening around me.

I’m still glaring at my phone when the crunch of gravel pulls my attention up. A truck and a horse trailer ease into view, kicking up dust behind them.

Everything in me goes cold.

“I wonder who this is.” Mom asks, both of us watching the truck back up to the barn.

“I’ll found out.” I try to sound reassuring but my heart is pounding in my throat.

Two men climb out, both in work boots and dusty ball caps. One pulls a folded paper from his pocket before he’s even close.

“This Emerald Ridge Farm?” the first one asks.

I hesitate. “Who’s asking?”

The second one tips his chin toward the trailer. “We’re here for the horses. Dominion and Saving Grace.”

It’s like the words don’t register for a second, and then they slam into me so hard my knees nearly give. What?

“No,” I say immediately. “No, you’re not.”

“Cass?” Mom’s voice cracks and sounds so small just behind me. “What is this?”

The first man holds the paper out. “Got the receipt right here, ma’am.”

“This has to be some mistake.” I shake my head, already pulling my phone back out. “I’m calling my brother.”

Jonathan still doesn’t answer. I call again. And again. Straight to voicemail.

Panic is building fast in my chest, making it hard to breathe. My fingers fly over the screen and I send off a quick text to Jax— Are you busy? —but nothing else. Not yet.

“Ma’am,” one of the men says, voice firm, “we don’t want trouble. Just here to pick up the stock.”

“They’re not stock,” I snap. “They’re family. And you’re not taking them.”

Things turn sharp fast.

Mom’s color drains in seconds, her hand trembling as it grips the stall door for balance. “Cass…” Her voice is faint, thin, and it cuts through me like glass.

The men exchange a look, and I get a sinking feeling this is about to get really bad. Because their patience is gone before we’ve even started.

One steps in closer, but I move to block his way to the stall. “Ma’am, we were told you’d resist. But our job is to get these horses loaded. This is nothing personal.”

“The hell it isn’t,” I snap, my finger pushing the call button again as I keep my eyes hard on him. The other is opening their trailer.

When I take a second to spare a look at Mom, the second man moves quickly around me, heading straight for Dominion. My pulse spikes as I catch sight of the big gelding sidestepping nervously, ears flicking back.

“Stop!” My voice cracks, sharp and desperate as I end the call my brother keeps ignoring.

“Cassidy, I—” Mom sways where she’s standing, her breathing shallow. I move toward her instinctively, ready to catch her if she goes down, but every step I take toward her is another step away from the stable. My heart is tearing itself in two—do I help her or stop them?

“Shanae!” I whip my head toward the house. “Shanae!” I shout again, my voice carrying across the open acreage. From here, I can see her small figure emerge from the house.

“Help!” I yell, waving an arm. “We need help!”

By the time I look back, the man’s got the stall door open and Dominion’s trying to back into the far corner, muscles tense.

My feet are moving toward him but the second man’s hand closes around my arm, firm enough to keep me in place but not quite bruising—yet.

“Don’t make this harder than it has to be,” he says, low and final.

“Get your hands off me!” I bite back, yanking my arm out of his grip. Hot tears spill out of my eyes and my throat feels like it’s tightening.

My phone rings in my hand and I answer without looking, spitting the words out through a sob. “How could you do this?”

“It’s me,” Jax’s voice cuts through, low and steady but he’s caught on to the panic in my tone.

I gasp, the words tumbling out before I can stop them. “He sold them, Jax. The horses. Jonathan sold them.” My voice breaks completely, ugly sobs shaking me.

There’s a pause on Jaxon’s end of the line. The unmistakable roar of his bike in the background. “Get Big Ben,” he orders, voice like steel. “Don’t let them leave. I’m on my way.”

Shanae comes running up just as Mom’s knees buckle.

“Mom!” The word tears out of me, sharp and panicked. I try to rush into the barn, but the man in front of me grabs me with both hands, yanking me back. My phone slips from my grip, hitting the dirt and hay with a dull thud .

“Let go of me!” I growl, twisting against him.

Shanae reaches Mom first, slipping an arm around her shoulders and guiding her toward the nearest chair. “I’ve got you, I’ve got you,” she murmurs, but her own voice is shaky.

“Ben!” I shout, scanning the property. His truck isn’t here. My heart lurches. Please, God, let him be in the pastures. Please don’t let him have gone into town.

“Call Ben!” I scream at Shanae while I keep struggling against the man’s grip.

The first guy is already inside the stall with Dominion, and the big gelding’s eyes are wide, whites showing as he tosses his head. The other horses are starting to react—snorting, stamping, restless in their stalls.

“Stop!” I yell, the sound raw in my throat. I slam my heel down on the man’s foot and drive my boot into his shin. He cusses, jerking me forward before regaining his hold.

Over his shoulder, I catch sight of Shanae pulling her phone out, her lips moving fast. I can’t make out the words over the roaring in my ears. My heartbeat is pounding so loud it drowns everything else out.

Then I see Dominion being led out with a lead rope, muscles bunched, fighting the pull with every step.

Something inside me snaps. I thrash harder, my nails digging into the man’s wrists, my boots scrambling for leverage. He swears again, shoving me forward until my front smacks into the barn wall.

“Enough!” he snarls, pressing his weight into me, using his body to pin me there. His breath is hot on my neck, his voice low and threatening. “We’re taking these horses, sweetheart. One way or another.”

Dominion rears back, whinnying in panic, but the man at his lead keeps yanking him forward, bit by bit toward the trailer.

My chest aches watching him fight, his hooves skidding in the dirt, but it’s not enough.

He gets him inside. The sound of the gate clanging shut is like a death knell in my ears.

Helplessness crawls up my spine, but I can’t stop fighting. My arms are burning, my muscles screaming from straining against the man holding me, but I won’t give up. I can’t let them leave. I shove and twist, trying to push him off me, but it’s useless.

Then I hear a truck engine and a shout.

I whip my head toward the sound and see Ben’s pickup skid in sideways at the front of their truck, big and loud and perfectly blocking their way out.

Thank God.

Ben jumps out before it’s even fully stopped. “Get away from the horses!” he shouts, his voice booming across the yard. He’s a big man and in his younger days he would probably give both these men a run for their money.

“He has Dominion!” I call out, my voice raw.

The man holding me shoves his forearm against my throat so hard it cuts my words off mid-breath. “I’m tired of hearing your mouth,” he growls, leaning in so close I can feel the spit when he says it. He’s choking me. Rage twists his features, and for the first time, I think he might really hurt me.

Ben’s already stepping into the trailer, and I hear muffled shouting. Then a grunt—and Ben goes flying backward, landing hard on the ground outside, clutching his jaw.

“Don’t hurt him!” I scream like my voice has any power here.

“Ben,” Mom calls out from her chair, her voice weak and trembling.

“Stay with Lilly!” Ben barks toward Shanae as he pushes up to his feet, blood bright at the corner of his mouth.

But Ben’s not done—he’s storming into the barn now, just as the second man steps down from the trailer, Dominion secured inside.

“Please,” I sob, my voice breaking. “Stop.”

Ben’s got a metal shovel in his hands now, swinging it once like a warning. “Don’t you come near this horse.”

The man squares off with him, voice low and threatening. But before he can take a step, a sound cuts through the air—sharp, distinct, getting closer.

A motorcycle.

My heart jumps. I know that sound. I’ve heard it for years.

Jaxon’s here.

The scream of his bike echoing like a warning across the atmosphere tells me he’s riding like he’s bringing hell with him.

His bike is getting louder—closer—and the fight surges back into me. I push off the barn wall with my feet, catching the man holding me off guard. He stumbles back, swearing, but keeps his grip.

Ben swings the shovel again. “Get back!”

The man wraps both arms around my stomach, trapping my arms to my sides, squeezing so hard my feet leave the ground. I can’t breathe. Can’t scream.

I kick wildly, thrashing my head back. My skull connects with his face, and the sickening crunch of his nose breaking rings in my ears.

He cusses loud, grip loosening just enough for me to suck in a breath.

“You fucking bitch,” he spits, his arms clamping down again before he hauls me up and throws me to the ground.

The impact rattles my bones. Dirt grits into my eyes and mouth. The air is knocked from my lungs, and for a moment, the world tilts sideways and spins the wrong way.

“Cassidy!” Mom’s scream rips through the chaos.

“Sit down, Lilly!” Shanae’s voice, closer, panicked.

Then—movement. A streak of black in my peripheral.

The man is yanked away from me so fast he stumbles.

Jaxon’s still wearing his helmet as he drags the man back and, in the same motion, slams a fist into his face.

He yanks the man forward by the shirt, driving his knee up hard, then pulling his head down to meet it. Bone meets bone with a sick crack.

The man drops, and Jaxon’s on him like a predator. “You fucked up touching her.” The words are low, deep—and nothing like the Jaxon I know. This voice is darker. Deadlier.

I feel the crack of a bone as much as I hear it and wince.

The man screams. Jaxon rips his helmet off and is at my side in the next heartbeat, hauling me upright and sitting me against the wall.

The man is screaming, holding is arm and rolling on his back like it’s the only thing he can do amid the pain he’s in.

“Are you hurt?” His eyes are wild, pupils blown wide so the deep brown is almost gone. “Are you okay?”

“Grace,” I choke out, my voice breaking.

He presses a quick kiss to my forehead, his breath still hard. “Get to your mom, baby.”

He hauls me to my feet just long enough to steady me, then he’s gone—storming into the barn, his shoulders rigid with fury.