Page 33 of The Chief (Those (Damn!) Texas Dantes #3)

THE BLAST shook the windows, rattling glass in their panes as golden-orange light stuttered across the ceiling like fire licking up the walls.

Elise jolted upright with a gasp, the sheet clutched to her chest as her lungs seized in a sharp inhale.

Her heart pounded—wild and disoriented—as if her body knew before her brain that something had gone horribly wrong.

Cade was already moving. The bed shifted with the force of him throwing himself off.

He yanked on his jeans in one practiced motion, then snatched his gun from the nightstand, checked the safety, and shoved it into the waistband of his jeans.

His muscles were tight with readiness, every move economic and exact, like the violence outside had flipped a switch inside him. All heat and intent. Pure command.

Elise blinked, trying to piece the moment together. He looked like something ancient in the firelight, powerful and stark and fully, terrifyingly alert. The air still smelled like them, of sex and skin. But now it burned with something else. Smoke and pandemonium.

She whispered, “Cade? What was that?”

He crossed to the window, scanned the shadows beyond the ranch house. “The barn,” he said a second later, his voice tightening. “Where the horses are.”

Elise let out a strangled gasp. “Oh my God, Cade! We have to do something!”

He grabbed his comm from the dresser. “Viktor. Report.”

A burst of static. Then Viktor’s voice, harsh and clipped. “Southwest perimeter. No casualties. Yet. Fire crews are moving, but we need backup or we’re going to lose animals. Code Orange, Cade.”

Cade responded to the call with a brief acknowledgement, then snapped, “Agreed, Viktor. Code Orange. Code Orange.”

Elise flung off the sheet and was out of bed before her brain kicked into gear.

Her feet hit the floor cold and fast as she sprinted for the closet, yanking open the doors, shoving aside hangers until she found jeans, a tee shirt, and a hoodie.

Her fingers trembled as she dressed. The barn.

Not just animals. Living souls. She shuddered at the thought of flames licking the stalls, of trapped, terrified creatures.

“I’m going with you,” she said, voice insistent as she pulled the hoodie over her head.

Cade looked back at her. His expression was carved from stone.

“Absolutely not,” he growled. “This is exactly what Marcello wants, get you out in the open, in the chaos.”

Elise’s eyes sparked. “And leave the horses to burn? I can help.”

“No,” he barked. “This isn’t about the horses anymore. This is bait. You’re the target.”

She took a step toward him, her spine straight, chin tipped up.

Defiance radiated from every inch of her as her hands fisted at her sides.

“I’m not fragile, Cade. I won’t stand here doing nothing while innocent lives burn to death.

That’s not who I am. I don’t stand by when I can help.

” Her voice cracked at the edges, not with weakness, but fury.

“Those animals are trapped. Terrified. I have to do something.”

His hands fisted at his sides. “You think this is about fragility? You think I won’t destroy everything to keep you safe?”

“Then don’t make me a prisoner. Don’t lock me away and pretend it’s for my good when we both know it’s your fear talking.

Your need to control what you love so it doesn’t slip through your fingers.

But I’m not glass, Cade. I’m steel under fire, stronger, not weaker, for what I’ve been through.

Let me stand beside you, not hide in this room. ”

His nostrils flared, his words hard and sharp.

“I’m not afraid of you breaking,” he said.

“I’m afraid of losing the one goddamn thing in this world I can’t replace.

If I take you with me, I’ll be distracted, looking for you in the smoke, listening for your voice instead of watching my men.

Torn between saving what’s out there and guarding what’s mine right here. ”

His eyes locked on hers filled with fury. Fear. Love.

He pulled her in, kissed her hard. Then kissed her again, soft and gentle.

“Stay here. Lock the door. Don’t move. No matter what.”

And then he was gone, disappearing into the smoke-heavy night without a backward glance.

Cade’s footsteps vanished down the hall to the staircase.

Elise moved quickly, crossing to the door and flipping the lock with trembling fingers.

She stood there for a second, listening.

Not to the hallway, she already knew it was empty, but to the silence building inside her.

The silence of not knowing what he’d face out there. What she might lose if she obeyed him.

She leaned against the wood for one long moment, then turned and crossed to the window like a trapped animal.

The fire cast orange light across the lawn, licking up from behind the far buildings.

Smoke curled into the sky in thick, dark plumes.

She pressed a hand to the windowpane, eyes locked on the glow at the horizon.

The barn. Her stomach twisted at the thought of the animals inside, screaming in fear, choking on heat and smoke.

Figures darted in and out of the smoke, men hauling open stall doors, leading horses through the haze with ropes and frantic voices.

She could see the flash of firelight off their faces, their arms thrown up to shield from sparks.

But it wasn’t enough. The fire kept growing.

And still, she didn’t see Cade.

She stood there a long moment, willing movement to appear. Willing Cade to walk into frame. But no one came.

Behind her, the room seemed too quiet, unnaturally still.

Just the ticking of the wall clock and the faint hiss of dying adrenaline.

Her hand drifted to the center of her palm, thumb tracing the Dante Brand etched into her skin.

The mark pulsed beneath her touch, a reminder that she belonged to something unbreakable.

To someone who would come back for her. It grounded her more than the beating of her own heart, more than the firelight dancing across the glass, more than anything that connected her to the now.

Her eyes kept drifting to the door like it might open again and he’d be there, safe.

But he wasn’t. And something in her gut refused to settle.

Moisture fogged the windowpane as she whispered, “Come on, Cade. Come back to me.” Her fingers tightened on the glass, nails digging into her palm.

She didn’t realize she’d started trembling until she stepped back.

The silence pressed in harder now, almost suffocating.

She paced the room, arms wrapped around herself like armor. Cade’s scent still clung to her skin, to the hoodie she wore, warm and wild and soothing. But her body wouldn’t calm. Her pulse became trapped in her throat as her bare feet brushed against the cool floor.

She circled the room once, then again, before finally stopping near the door. Her palm pressed flat to the wood as if she could sense him through it. But all she felt was stillness.

The air was thick with more than silence. It pulsed with unease, like static building just beneath her skin. It was tension that made her body freeze, and dread curl in her belly. A constricting sense that something was coiling tighter by the second, waiting to strike.

She waited. Five minutes. Ten. Fifteen. She pressed her ear to the door. Nothing. No footsteps. No voices. Just the faint crackle of fire in the distance.

Her hand hovered over the lock. Cade had been so clear. Stay. Lock the door. Don’t move. But the only thing worse than disobeying him was doing nothing. Letting fear win. Letting Marcello oppress her with silence. Again.

What if someone was hurt? What if Cade needed her? What if she could help save just one life, horse or human?

Her chest tightened, lungs struggling to find rhythm. She pressed her ear to the wood one last time. Nothing.

“Screw this,” she whispered, heart thudding.

She unlocked it. Slipped into the hallway. The air was cooler out here. And wrong. As if the fire wasn’t the only thing alive on the ranch tonight. As if something else had already slipped past the fences.

The ranch house should’ve been a hive of movement. Security. Orders being shouted. A strange, unnatural hush surrounded her. Like something holding its breath. Like the world waiting for a scream.

Her bare feet whispered over hardwood as she moved along the shadowed corridor to the staircase and downward. She bypassed the command wing and instead veered back toward the sunroom, drawn not by logic, but compulsion.

The door was cracked. Her pulse jumped. She didn’t remember leaving that door open. No one did, not ever. Especially not since the snake. And not when there were orders to keep the perimeter sealed.

The night air rolled in soft and warm. The wind carried the faint smell of burning wood. And something else, an acrid tang she couldn’t place at first. Earth. The sharp bite of musk. A flash of something primal, like an animal cornered. Sweat.

If this were a movie, the audience would be screaming at her to run. Run fast, run now, and never look back. To get back to her room before the monster grabbed her. Every horror trope howled a warning, demanding she trust her instincts. Her skin prickled, heart hammering.

She turned to flee, legs braced to bolt, lungs heaving mid-sob, every nerve in her body shrieking—

—and someone seized her from behind, yanking her off her feet with brutal force.

An arm like iron clamped around her waist, a hand smothered her mouth.

Panic exploded in her chest as she kicked and thrashed, heels scraping against the floor, her cry strangled by terror before it ever reached her throat.