Chapter 13
Chapter
Thirteen
The wind carried the sound first—faint, but wrong.
Not the rhythm of hooves or the rush of water. Something sharper. A high, terrified scream that cut straight through the forest and lodged in Ty’s chest.
“Lark.”
He didn’t think—he just kicked his horse into a gallop. Branches whipped at his shoulders, rain spitting against his face as he tore through the trees. The roar of the falls grew louder, the air colder and thicker with mist.
Behind him, Jake swore and followed, Caesar barking as they broke through the last stand of pines.
And then Ty saw her.
Lark stood near the base of the falls, camera dangling uselessly from her neck, frozen between two predators. A massive brown bear stood several dozen yards ahead, three cubs huddled at her feet. On the opposite side, low and sleek and deadly, a mountain lion froze.
“Jesus Christ,” Ty breathed, sliding off his horse before it had even stopped moving.
He grabbed his rifle from the saddle scabbard, chambered a round, and started down the slope. “Jake, circle left,” he barked. “I’ll get Caesar to draw the cat’s attention. I’ll move her.”
Jake didn’t argue. He just nodded once and moved. Ty signaled the dog. Caesar darted out, barking wildly, his movement pulling the mountain lion’s focus for a split second. It was enough. The lion bolted, the bear, the humans, the dogs all too much for it.
Ty sprinted the last few yards, boots slipping on the slick rock. “Lark!”
Her head jerked toward him, eyes wide and wild. “Ty!”
“Don’t move,” he said, voice low and firm, every muscle in his body coiled tight. “Just stay right where you are.”
The bear huffed, massive head swinging between him and her cubs. She was trying to decide which threat was greater.
Ty raised his rifle—not to shoot, but to make noise. He fired a round into the air. The crack echoed like thunder through the canyon. The bear reared up, startled, then turned and hustled out of the area, her cubs herded before her.
Ty used the moment. He moved fast, closing the distance to Lark. When he reached her, she didn’t hesitate—she turned and bolted straight into his chest.
He caught her, hauling her tight against him, his free arm wrapping around her shoulders. She was trembling, soaked, and whispering his name over and over like a prayer.
“Got you,” he murmured against her hair. “I’ve got you, sweetheart.”
Behind them, Jake carefully picked his way down to them. He gave Ty a quick nod. The bear was gone. They were safe. But they had to move. The bears could come back at any time. Momma bears were unpredictable.
Silence crashed down almost as loud as the gunshot had been.
Lark was shaking so hard her teeth chattered. Ty set the rifle aside and tipped her chin up, searching her face. “You okay?”
She nodded, though tears tracked through the dirt on her cheeks. “I—I think so. My horse ran off. I didn’t know what to do.”
“You did fine,” he said roughly. “You’re still breathing. That’s what matters.”
“I was stupid,” she whispered. “I thought I could handle it. I wanted to prove—”
He cut her off, his voice breaking. “Don’t. Don’t you dare apologize for being brave.”
Her breath hitched. “You came for me.”
He brushed strands of hair from her face, his thumb tracing the edge of her jaw. “I’ll always come for you.”
For a heartbeat, neither moved. The storm hissed in the distance, the falls roaring like the pulse in his ears.
Then she sagged against him, her strength gone. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her close as she buried her face in his chest.
Behind them, Jake led the horses down from the ridge, Caesar trotting at his side, tongue lolling.
“Everyone in one piece?” Jake called.
“Barely,” Ty answered without looking up.
Jake nodded once, eyes sharp but approving. “Let’s get her out of here before the bears come back.”
Ty bent, scooping Lark into his arms before she could protest. She made a small, startled sound, her hands clutching at his shoulders.
“Ty—”
He met her gaze, fierce and unrelenting. “You scared the hell out of me, Lark. We’re not doing that again.”
For once, she didn’t argue.
He carried her back toward the horses as the first drops of rain began to fall, the storm finally breaking over the mountains.
And even as thunder rolled and lightning cracked across the sky, he didn’t loosen his hold.
Because now that he’d found her again, he wasn’t letting her go. Not ever.
The fire crackled low in the cabin hearth, throwing long shadows across the rough-hewn walls. Outside, the rain had finally broken, a soft, steady patter against the roof that filled the silence between them.
Lark sat wrapped in a blanket, hair still damp from the storm, curling in dark waves around her shoulders.
Her hands wouldn’t stop trembling—not from cold this time, but from everything that had happened.
The roar of the waterfall, the flash of golden eyes in the brush, the sound of Ty’s voice shouting her name like a prayer and a command.
He’d come for her. Again.
Ty stood near the hearth, his back to her, running a hand through his wet hair.
His shoulders were tense, muscles shifting under his damp shirt that clung to the hard planes of his back.
Every so often, he’d glance her way, as if checking to make sure she was still there, still breathing, still his to protect.
Luke had gone hours ago, muttering something about needing to file a report before her father came looking. Jake had offered to stay, but Ty had given him a look—one soldier to another, a silent order—and Jake had simply nodded and left them alone.
Now, there was no one left but her and the man she didn’t know if she could forgive, but the man she didn’t know if she could live without.
Finally, Ty turned. His expression was raw, the kind of naked honesty that scared her almost as much as it drew her in. The firelight cast his face in harsh relief—the strong jaw shadowed with stubble, the intensity in his dark eyes.
“You should be asleep,” he said quietly, his voice a low rumble that always seemed to vibrate through her chest.
“I tried.” She looked down at her hands. “My brain won’t stop replaying everything.”
He crossed the room in three long strides, boots heavy on the wooden floor, then crouched in front of her. His eyes met hers—steady, dark, and full of regret. “You could’ve died out there today.”
“I know.” Her voice cracked. “But I didn’t. Because of you.”
He exhaled slowly, his jaw tightening. “Because I was lucky. You were standing between a goddamn bear and a mountain lion, Lark.”
She almost smiled. “Guess I’m good at making bad decisions.”
His lips twitched, but the humor didn’t reach his eyes. “You shouldn’t have been alone.”
Her breath hitched. “You mean I shouldn’t have found out the truth.”
He flinched but didn’t look away. “Yeah. That too.”
Silence stretched. The only sounds were the rain drumming on the roof and the pop of sap in the fire.
Then Ty straightened to his full height, pacing once before stopping a few feet away. His hands fisted at his sides, forearms corded with tension, like he was wrestling something bigger than words.
“I need to tell you everything,” he said finally. “No half-truths. No excuses.”
Lark’s stomach twisted, but she nodded. “Okay.”
He drew in a breath, his chest expanding.
“Your father hired me through Luke. Said he wanted you safe, but he didn’t trust you to handle it out here.
The job was to make the trip… uncomfortable.
Just enough for you to decide to pack it in and go home.
You were right. He wanted you to give up on this photography idea and go back home. As if it were a silly fling.”
Her throat tightened, but she said nothing. It was exactly as she’d suspected. It shouldn’t have hurt. She knew her father, knew what he thought of her photography, but it still stung.
“I agreed,” he went on, his voice rough with self-disgust. “It sounded simple. Babysit a rich girl, keep her out of trouble. I figured you’d complain about the bugs, the cold, the lack of Wi-Fi, and be done by day two.”
She winced. “And instead?”
His gaze met hers, unflinching. “Instead, you climbed a damn ridge to chase sheep. You made a fire by yourself. You slept through a storm and didn’t quit. You proved every single thing your old man thought about you was dead wrong.”
Her heart thudded hard against her ribs. “And what about you, Ty? What did you think?”
He took a step closer, then another, until he was standing right in front of her, near enough that she had to tilt her head back to meet his eyes. “I thought I could keep this professional. I was wrong about that, too.”
Her pulse fluttered in her throat. “Ty, why did you do it?”
His fists clenched by his side, forced to admit something he didn’t want to. “Your father threatened friends of mine. I didn’t see a way out.”
She frowned. “That sounds like something he would do. He finds information and uses it. We’ll figure a way to help them. I promise.”
He reached down, brushing a strand of damp hair from her face, his calloused fingers lingering against her cheek.
His touch was gentle but trembled with barely leashed restraint.
“We’ll deal with it. You have to know, somewhere between the first day and today, you stopped being a job.
Hell, it stopped being anything I could control. ”
She searched his face, her breath catching at the raw emotion there.
His voice dropped, rough and certain. “I’d protect you even if it cost me everything. I’d walk through hell barefoot if it meant keeping you safe. You’re mine, Lark. The other half of my soul. My everything.”
Her breath caught. The sincerity in his tone, the fierce possessiveness underlying every word, hit her harder than any apology could have.
“Why tell me now?” she whispered. “After everything?”
“Because I’d rather you hate me for the truth than love me for a lie.” His thumb traced her bottom lip. “You deserve that much.”