Page 51 of Wrecked for Love (Buffaloberry Hill #1)

ELIA

I reached Great Falls in what seemed like a heartbeat, my old truck thrumming beneath me as if my foot hadn’t left the pedal since I started.

As I neared a structure locals dubbed “Powerhouse,” it was clear the building hadn’t been empty for ages, contrary to what I’d been told.

A faint glow spilled from its windows. Outside, three cars were haphazardly parked, and a lone figure loitered near one, likely a man left to watch over the premises.

Pushing my engine beyond its limits, the ice-coated road beneath me made every turn treacherous. I managed to drive a little farther before doubling back on foot, moving as stealthily as my rigid, tortured limbs allowed. The pain had become so familiar that it felt like a permanent part of me.

The man assigned to watch—probably just a driver—leaned casually against his vehicle, the dull glow of his cigarette flickering in the cold morning air.

His shoulders were hunched, his hands were shoved deep into his pockets, and the occasional stomp of his boots made it clear that Montana’s winter was biting hard.

His focus on staying warm was my advantage.

Testing the steadiness of my legs with Hank’s old brace, I could move more freely now, though it came at the cost of some support.

Still, I pressed on. Creeping forward, I used the parked cars for both cover and balance.

Step by step, I inched closer, the man unaware of my approach.

By the time I was mere feet away, he still hadn’t noticed. So far—legs one, enemy nil.

Elegance wasn’t the priority, but efficiency was. With a swift, silent strike, I took him down. His body crumpled, a single surprised exhale escaping his lips—his only protest. It felt like a drill I’d rehearsed a thousand times.

I moved fast, stripping him of his cap, gloves, and jacket and putting them on before dragging his unconscious form toward the trunk of his car. The effort nearly bested me, my muscles screaming louder than my leg, but I wasn’t about to give in. Two–nil.

With a grunt, I heaved him up and shoved him into the trunk, his body disappearing from sight, hidden from discovery.

I adjusted the cap low over my brow, pulling The Revenants’ jacket tight around my waist. My own jacket was bunched up and shoved under the driver’s seat. Claire might need it later.

My fingers found a cigarette in the pack the man had left in his pocket.

I hadn’t smoked in years, but I lit it up anyway.

It was all part of the act. Leaning against the car, I adopted his posture and his slouch, mimicking his nonchalant smoking gesture as though it were second nature.

At that moment, I wasn’t me—I was him. To any onlooker, nothing had changed at the Powerhouse watch.

Suddenly, a group stormed out of the house. I averted my gaze and bowed my head, though I knew precisely who was being ushered out.

Watching her being manhandled by figures clad in The Revenants’ jackets—mirror images of the uniform I’d stripped from their incapacitated driver—nearly undid me. She remained passive, her body limp in their unyielding grip, offering no resistance.

“Yo, Prince! Kill that smoke!” someone shouted my way. “You’re halfway to lung cancer already!”

I kept my head low, exhaling a thick cloud and trying to hide the fact that I’d forgotten how to puff like a pro. The brim of my cap cast a shadow over my face, keeping my cover intact. With a flick, the cigarette was gone.

Two men hauled Claire toward my car as the rest retreated back into the house, barking orders into the frigid air. Although commands echoed behind me, my focus narrowed on Claire, now just within arm’s reach, her proximity both a torment and a spur to action.

“Next stop, Princey. Stick to Plan A,” one of the men told me.

How I wished for the cover of darkness, but necessity demanded I adapt and execute in the light.

I bowed my head as I opened the door for them, a hand brushing my face as if the snow had gotten to me—maintaining the disguise without overplaying it.

One of the men circled around to the passenger seat while the other pushed Claire into the back.

Seizing the moment, I stepped forward, feigning assistance to shove Claire deeper into the vehicle.

Under the guise of this maneuver, my gloved hand discreetly passed her the Ruger.

Claire, ever perceptive, made no outward sign of acknowledgment, not even a hint of surprise.

Instead, she subtly adjusted her position in the back seat, accepting the item with the stealth and compliance of one long prepared for such exchanges.

“Let’s go!” the man sitting in the passenger seat barked.

I eased onto the road, trying to mimic how I’d imagine a Revenant would drive. No one seemed to notice. A good sign.

Once we were safely out of sight of the rest of the gang, I pulled the car to the side of the road.

“What the fuck?” the man beside me exclaimed in confusion and alarm.

Without hesitation, I turned to face him, my movements decisive—no second or ounce of energy wasted.

“Not another word!” I growled, my voice a razor-sharp command as I trained the gun squarely on him. “Claire?”

“I’ve got him, Elia!”

I knew she would! Without even glancing, I could tell Claire had mirrored my actions.

In a split second, I slammed my front passenger’s head onto the dashboard, rendering him unconscious.

Almost in the same breath, I spun around to check on Claire.

The man who had been flanking her found himself staring down the barrel of her Ruger.

Her grip was steady, even amidst the chaos. He didn’t dare make a move.

Keeping my Glock trained on him, I slid into the backseat to help Claire out, then handled him, using his own scarf to tie his wrists.

In the distance, the sound of sirens began to swell, piercing through the stillness of the early morning.

The moment I had confirmed Claire’s location, I called Logan to get the sheriff involved, urging him to liaise with his counterpart in Great Falls.

I was betting this city hadn’t encountered a hardened criminal like Gideon Purcell before.

With the sirens growing louder, signaling the imminent arrival of the law, Claire and I stared at the helpless men in the car.

I hadn’t mentioned the one in the trunk—it didn’t matter.

After everything we’d endured, from the gritty makeshift ring inside The Cove to Saxum, this confrontation felt almost like child’s play.

Our adversaries were unprepared for our resolve and coordination.

I winced as she wrapped me in a tight embrace. “Oooh…not so hard, not so hard, sweetheart,” I breathed out, holding back a groan.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” She immediately pulled back, her fingers hovering as if her touch might add to the pain.

But the agony soon dulled as I craved the touch of her body. “It hurts, but it heals.” I pulled her close again. I needed her near. Those brief seconds of separation were too much.

With a huff, she snatched the cap off my head and tossed it aside. “What took you so long?”

“Sorry, babe. Had to turn back for my legs.”

“You look awful!” she told me straight, but a smile still escaped. She then tugged The Revenants jacket off my shoulders.

“Fashion statement,” I joked, shrugging it off. “But honestly—” I gestured to the familiar flannel of my lumberjack shirt, “—this is more my style. But look past it for now and see the man inside.”

She landed another kiss, more carefully this time. “I thought I’d lost you.”

“Never, Chili Pepper. You’ll never lose me,” I reassured her with a smile that felt fragile but held together for her sake.

Then I tapped her ill-fitting jacket, which looked more like a bedroll draped over her.

“Now, this is awful!” I grumbled. I had no idea whose jacket it was, but I couldn’t stand it.

“And I definitely can’t look past it, Claire. Sorry.”

She laughed. “I can’t wait to get rid of it.”

“Then why not now?”

She tilted her head. I reached under the driver’s seat and pulled out my jacket. She quickly ditched the awful one and slipped into mine.

“That’s better!” I said approvingly.

Her relieved, happy expression softened into something else—something more intense. She guided my hand down to her belly. “I think we made a baby that night,” she confessed, her face glowing with pure elation.

A joyful laugh escaped me, merging with the hope that sparked within. “That’s the best news I’ve ever heard,” I exclaimed.

Her stare bore into me, demanding a confession. “You knew!”

I couldn’t hide it anymore, not from her. “I did. But hearing it from you, Claire Magnussen, makes it real.”

“Elia Lucas…if there was ever a time to be swept off my feet, you just nailed it.”

At that moment, we kissed. My swollen lips touched her fresh, soft flesh.

She was careful not to crash on me, but she pressed my mouth against hers.

Her lips were a reminder of everything beautiful that still remained, a contrast to the bitter days of fear and uncertainty that had consumed us since her abduction.

“My truck’s just over there. Let’s get out of here,” I urged, eager to escape anything linked to The Revenants or the Vosses.

The snow kept falling, layering the ground in an ever-thickening white.

Claire slipped her arm around me, offering her shoulder for me to lean on as we walked.

It was reminiscent of that harrowing night at The Cove, where I had fought with everything I had, my body now a map of that ordeal.

But this time, the form I leaned into was different.

It was filled with the solid certainty of her presence.

This time, I knew she was safe, here with me and beside me, and that changed everything.