Chapter 3 #2
He reared to his full height, towering, a warhorse made of rain and fury.
Blair dragged the kids away from his churning flank.
His front legs slashed through the air in a strike so powerful Blair felt the gust of it across her face.
Jet screamed, a sound ripped from some ancient place inside him and brought both hooves down with a crack that made the earth vibrate.
The blow caught the bear across the shoulder, staggering it, forcing it sideways.
The beast roared, swiped, its claws catching Jet’s chest in a shallow arc, but Jet didn’t yield.
With another scream, Jet reared again, a second strike came down, harder, a force of bone and muscle strong enough to crush a skull, and Blair realized with a jolt of awe and terror that if that bear had been a man, Jet would have killed him instantly.
The bear reeled back, scrambling. He had to be shocked by a prey animal that didn’t run, didn’t freeze, didn’t fear.
Jet’s hooves hit the ground with a thunderous impact, mud flying, and he lunged forward with another scream, ears pinned, neck arched, hindquarters driving his front half into a territorial, dominant assault.
The bear broke.
It turned sharply and bolted into the trees, crashing through branches in a panic of snapping limbs and heavy breath until the forest swallowed it whole.
Jet stood trembling, sides heaving, nostrils flaring, but solid as the ridge behind him. He didn’t back down. He didn’t move until Blair stepped forward and touched his neck.
“Easy, Rev,” she whispered, steadying her own shaking breath. “Easy, boy.”
Sarah was frozen, eyes wide, mouth open, the branch still clutched in her hands. Joshua pressed himself into her back, staring at Jet with newfound worship.
Jet lowered his head and brushed his muzzle against Blair’s shoulder with a soft, defiant huff, eyes still bright and burning with protective fire.
Blair pressed her forehead to his for a heartbeat, just once.
“You saved them,” she whispered. “You saved all of us.”
Jet, soaked to the skin, bleeding a little, shaking with adrenaline, stood tall like the warhorse he was, as if daring the entire wilderness to try again.
Blair stroked his neck, feeling the tremor still moving through him, and exhaled a shaky breath that might have been a laugh if her pulse wasn’t still hammering.
“I guess you showed him who’s boss with your savage fifteen-hundred-pound advantage,” she murmured, letting the warmth of her voice settle him as much as the touch. “Smart guy. That bear isn’t going to take on my heavyweight a second time.”
Sarah dropped the branch, the tension breaking all at once as she burst into laughter, the sound shaky and wild and full of relief. “RCMP black hero, one. Bear, a big fat zero.”
Joshua whooped, half hiding behind his sister, half peeking around her like Jet was the coolest thing he had ever seen. “Yeah! Zero!”
Blair smiled, the knot in her chest loosening, grateful that for one moment they could be kids again instead of terrified survivors. Joshua stepped forward, still holding tight to his sister’s shirt, and looked up at Jet with reverence.
“Can we ride him?” he whispered, hope lighting his eyes.
“Of course you can.” Blair gave Joshua a reassuring smile, letting her voice ease the last thread of fear out of his shoulders.
“I’m not putting you on any inferior ATV.
Those things are dangerous.” She added a quick wink, the kind she reserved for kids who needed to feel brave again and watched the boy’s eyes spark with something close to wonder.
Blair heard the clatter before she saw them, the slamming of boots against slick earth and the labored breath of two men who had clearly sprinted the last hundred yards.
Constable Jake “Beef” Holmstein crashed through the underbrush first, rifle raised, vest soaked, eyes scanning every direction.
Years of backcountry work lived in the breadth of his shoulders and the quiet steadiness in his eyes.
Constable Malcolm Tyler emerged right behind him, loaded for bear as well, mud streaked across his cheek and his chest heaving. Tall, broad, golden hair plastered to his forehead, safety already off. He moved like a man who trusted his body and his instincts equally.
“Geezus, Sarge,” Beef said between breaths, “I heard the roar all the way up the ridge. You good? Kids good? Horse good? Anybody need to be shot or arrested?”
“Blair,” Tyler muttered, his blue eyes still scanning the area, “tell me that wasn’t the same bear from the carcass. I had my safety off for the last three hundred meters.” His eyes raked over her. “You good?”
He and Beef had been paired for years, two extremes that somehow made perfect operational sense.
Beef was dark-haired, solid, steady as a mountain, the grounding force in any storm.
Tyler was light and fast, all quick smiles and razor reflexes, the spark to Beef’s stone.
Together they were a walking comedy duo, one deadpan and the other sunshine, bickering over gear choices and terrible coffee but closing ranks instantly whenever Blair needed them.
Tyler had a thing for her. Everyone knew it.
Jet snorted behind her, a pointed, derisive sound that made Beef step back on instinct.
“Well, if the horse says they’re fine,” Beef muttered, rubbing the back of his neck, “then we’re all fine. I just about died sprinting down that ravine after you.”
“You always think you’re about to die,” Tyler said, nudging him with an elbow.
“That is because I value my life, Tyler, unlike some people who dive off cliffs with their horse like it’s Tuesday.”
Blair didn’t bother hiding her smile. “If you two are done performing the world’s wettest comedy routine, help me get these kids on Jet before we all turn into ice pops.”
“Yes, ma’am,” they said in unison.
Sarah still kept one protective arm around Joshua, but the branch was gone, and the terror had faded into awe as they approached Jet. Blair lifted Joshua first, settling him in front of the saddle, her hands steady on his small frame as he grabbed the pommel with wide, eager eyes.
“You’re riding a legend today,” Blair whispered.
His grin said he believed her.
She lifted Sarah next, settling her behind Joshua, the girl’s arms circling her brother again, this time not from fear but from instinct. Jet adjusted his stance, lowering his head slightly as if offering balance, the massive muscles beneath his coat shifting with patient strength.
Blair mounted behind them, sliding one arm around Sarah to steady them, her other hand gripping the reins. Jet stepped forward, careful and deliberate, and Blair squeezed her calves in encouragement.
“Beef, Tyler,” she called over her shoulder, “secure the scene and follow on foot. Stay alert and check the deadfall for any sign the bear doubled back.” She caught Tyler’s eyes. “Keep that safety off.”
“You got it, Sarge,” Beef replied, still breathing hard as Tyler tipped his hat. “You three get moving. Jet looks like he wants out of here anyway.”
Jet flicked an ear back at him, unimpressed.
Blair guided Jet toward the narrow trail that curved upward along the slope, his massive hindquarters flexing, hooves digging.
The forest thinned as they climbed, rain softening into mist, the air turning cool and clean.
Jet carried them without hesitation, his stride smooth even on the slick ground, his breath steady and warm against Blair’s calves.
They crested the ridge, and the valley opened beneath them.
There, nestled between two arms of thick evergreen forest, lay the WILD Division Headquarters.
The main building rose like a rugged lodge, all timber beams and stonework with a slate roof that glistened under the rain.
Smoke spiraled from the chimney of the barracks wing, the scent of cedar and wet earth drifting on the wind.
Beyond that, the gym complex stretched out with its corrugated steel roof and wide roll-up doors, and farther still, the barn and corral where the horses sheltered, the paddock lights glowing faintly through the mist.
Trails converged toward the compound from every direction, forming a hub of intelligence, endurance, and raw wilderness capability.
Joshua gasped softly. “This is where you live?”
“Where I work,” Blair corrected, though her voice softened a fraction. “Where you’re about to see a whole lot of people very happy you’re safe.”
Sarah leaned back against Blair for the first time.
Jet carried them down the slope toward home.
The parents rushed across the compound the moment they saw the two children riding in on Jet, their faces pale with terror, then collapsing into relieved sobs as Blair swung down and gathered Joshua into her arms, so his mother could hold him.
Sarah stood tall beside her, bravely insisting she was fine until her father knelt and wrapped both arms around her, murmuring shaky thank-yous into her hair.
Blair stepped back, letting the raw emotion spill over in front of her, watching them cling as if afraid the storm might take their children back again.
People always seemed surprised by Mounties, the uniform, the quiet authority, the history behind the name, and this pair was no different, breath catching as they whispered to each other that the Royal Canadian Mounted Police had brought their babies home.
It warmed something in Blair’s chest, something she rarely let herself feel.
Superintendent Matthew Darrow stepped into the circle like he’d orchestrated the entire rescue, immaculate as always, his uniform untouched by mud or rain.
“Glad to see our decision to deploy mounted assets paid off,” he announced, voice loud enough to be heard over the rain and the grateful sobs.
“It was the correct strategic call for this terrain. We pride ourselves on innovative response protocols.”
Blair kept her expression neutral, even as resignation burned hot beneath her ribs.
Beef shot her a look that said everything he couldn’t say out loud, and Tyler rolled his eyes so hard it was a wonder Darrow didn’t feel the shift in air pressure.
Darrow was polished, charming in the way men are who’ve never truly been tested.
He wore his authority like a cologne, thick and unnecessary.
She led Jet toward the barn once the parents had been ushered inside for medical checks and warm blankets.
Jet was trembling slightly under his soaked coat, a shallow scrape marking his chest where the bear’s claws had raked him.
Blair ran a towel gently along his neck, murmuring to him, letting her voice soothe what the adrenaline hadn’t.
The crossties creaked as he shifted, leaning lightly into her, his trust anchoring her as much as her touch anchored him.
A low voice slid into the quiet behind her. “You just can’t help yourself. Always circumventing me.”
Blair turned slowly. Darrow stood half in shadow beneath the barn’s overhang, rain running down the immaculate line of his jacket. Something in his eyes, sharp, watchful, meaner than he intended, made her stomach tighten with the old reminder that she once believed this man had integrity.
“One of these days it’s going to bite you in the ass,” he said, stepping closer.
Jet snorted, jerking at the crossties, a low and dangerous sound huffing out of him, a warning. The big gelding planted one hoof, pawed the ground once, and lifted his head high enough that Darrow had to tilt his chin back to keep eye contact.
Darrow froze, then backed away a pace, disdain twisting his features. “Control that devil horse, or I’ll make sure he gets put down.”
Blair stepped away from Jet, her towel dropping to the stall floor. “Go ahead and try to give that order,” she said quietly. “It’ll come back and bite you in the ass. I guarantee it.”
His jaw tightened.
She turned her back on him, picking up a first aid kit and returning to Jet without sparing him another glance. “I’m busy, sir,” she said, voice even, controlled, unshaken. “Don’t you have credit to soak up and Americans to schmooze?”
Jet exhaled in a long, slow huff, ears flicking back in Darrow’s direction.
Blair smiled, just slightly, because Jet always knew exactly who the threats and fools were. Darrow fit neatly into the latter.
She also had to categorize herself in that light.
She’d been an utter fool to get involved with him, thought she loved him and he loved her.
He’d used her as a steppingstone to his current post. When she was a rookie, he’d seen exactly what an aging, ineffective constable he’d been, who had seen himself remaining in a mediocre job with mediocre prospects.
Blair had changed all that, and every bust she’d been instrumental in had gotten them attention until the biggest bust of their careers elevated them both.
Except Darrow had crowed to the higher-ups how he’d come up with that crucial clue, and he got the promotion.
She hadn’t contradicted him because he’d threatened her, told her that if she even breathed a word about the lie, he would ruin her.
She had loved being a Mountie too much to risk him tainting it, too afraid of losing what she’d finally built for herself after ballet, too aware that every ounce of control she had fought for could be stripped away if he turned that charm and poison in her direction.
So she swallowed the truth and gave in to his blackmail.
“I’ve got to go,” he said, like it was his choice, like they were somehow friends. “Nina and I need to get to the tailor’s. She’s buying me a handmade tux for our wedding, and I don’t want to be late. Clean up that paperwork on my desk before you clock out.”
Blair gritted her teeth. He was engaged to a socialite, Nina Strong of Strong Steel, and rubbing elbows with politicians and the rich and famous.
He never missed an opportunity to throw that in her face, like she gave even one fuck about him and his life.
She did wonder if Nina had any idea who she was marrying.
She could have transferred somewhere else, but she refused to give him the satisfaction of chasing her off.
Sometimes it felt as if being under his dubious leadership echoed the worst parts of her short-lived career as a prima ballerina, all control and scrutiny and the threat of failure hanging like a blade over her head.
Would she ever get out from under the shadow of that belief, the one he reinforced every chance he got?