Page 47 of The County Line (Whitewood Creek Farm #2)

I know this feeling.

It’s the same gut-wrenching fury I felt the night that Atticus was attacked.?

People talk about “seeing red” like it’s a figure of speech, but it’s not.

When the people you care about are in danger, when the woman you love is walking into a trap laid by her abusive ex-husband, it’s like the whole world shifts to red.

The color of blood, or revenge. Everything else fades, leaving only the heart-pounding rage and the singular need to protect the people you love.

And right now, it’s not just Molly—it’s Roxy too.

We’ve only been here five minutes, and Cash has downed three shots of whiskey and is currently dancing behind the bar with one of our new hires, so he’s out. Lawson, however, is already at my side, keys in his hand, ready to go. My steady older brother who I’ve always been able to count on.

“I got this,” I snap, reaching for the keys, but he pulls back.

“Let me drive.”

“You won’t go fast enough.”

His jaw tightens. “I’ll go as fast as you need me to. Let’s go.”

Lawson knows the stakes. Even with him driving, I’m still breaking parole.

I have special permission to travel for tonight’s “work event,” not to rush back to Whitewood Creek past curfew, and definitely not to head beyond the county line into Fern Falls.

Everything about this is a violation—my curfew, my travel restrictions, my parole agreement, and what I’m going to do once I get my hands on Molly’s ex-husband.

But for her? I’d break every rule a thousand times over.

Lawson jumps behind the wheel of his truck, and we’re off, gravel spitting beneath the tires. I’m tapping out a nervous beat on the door panel, fingers twitchy, my leg bouncing so hard it shakes the seat. I glance at my phone—again.

Still no update. Ten minutes since Molly’s last message. I fire off another text, jaw clenched.

Colt: You better still be in Whitewood Creek.

It hangs there. Unread.

I check her location and she’s not in Whitewood Creek. And just like that, the red takes over again—hot and blinding.

Fuck if he touches her.

“Dammit, Molly,” I groan, leaning back and slamming my head against the headrest.

I shouldn’t have gone to this event. I shouldn’t have left her alone. I should have known better. Things are still fresh with her ex, of course he’d come looking for her the moment I leave town.

Lawson is calm as always, his hands steady on the wheel, navigating the Friday night traffic like a pro. He pushes the speed limits the way I would, weaving through the cars with practiced ease.

“We’ll get to her, Colt. Don’t worry. Both of them.”

“I know,” I mutter, because the truth is, I can’t allow for any other outcome. I’m not losing Molly. Not when I just got her. And not Roxy either.

We make record time, flying down the highway and cutting the two-hour drive to an hour and a half.

As we cross into Whitewood Creek and head toward Fern Falls, I’m staring out the window, scanning every inch of the town that’s always felt like home but right now, feels like it’s turned its back on me.

And then, I see her. A dark black mound of fur, tucked behind an unused ATM in the town square.

“Pull over!” I bark.

Lawson jerks the wheel hard, cutting off a truck and sliding us into the lot of our towns old, 24-hour bank. Before the truck even stops, I’m out, running toward her.

“Roxy!” I call out, but it’s she who turns first. Her ears pin back, and she lets out a soft whine as she runs to me at full speed, whimpering the whole way like she thinks she’s in trouble.

“There’s my girl,” I murmur, dropping to my knees and wrapping her in my arms. My fingers scratch behind her ears as I whisper words of comfort, but she lets out another whimper, pressing against me like she knows something’s wrong.

“Where’s Molly?” I ask softly.

Roxy’s ears flatten, and my heart drops.

Roxy’s here, not at the Fern Ridge address which means Jordan never had her in the first place.

He never fucking had Roxy.

His text to her was a lie—a distraction to get Molly out of town to some abandoned location where he could do... what exactly?

I clap my hands sharply. “Come on,” I say, bolting back to the truck at full speed. Roxy follows, leaping into the cab as I slide in like she knows we need to go save our girl. I don’t even pull up her location, there isn’t time to check where she is.

“Get to that address,” I bark at Lawson.

He doesn’t hesitate, slamming on the gas and sending us speeding toward the county limit while I try Molly’s phone again.