12. Harlan
TWELVE
HARLAN
Pain hits me like a freight train, sharp and burning through my shoulder as I lie in the cold snow.
The world fades in and out, white flakes drifting down around me like they’re trying to bury me.
I can taste blood in my mouth, metallic and warm, mixing with the clean crisp scent of pine and disturbed earth.
My body feels heavy, like the mountain itself is pressing down on me.
Buck’s somewhere nearby, his hooves pawing nervously at the snow, the sound muffled and distant in my ringing ears.
Sunny. Her scream echoes in my head, raw and terrified.
I try to push myself up but my arm gives out, sending fresh agony ripping through me.
Blood soaks my flannel, hot at first then turning icy where it meets the snow.
The cold seeps through my clothes, biting into my skin, numbing my fingers.
I’ve got to get to her. Derek’s got her. That bastard has my sunshine.
"Sunny..." I rasp, the word barely more than a growl. My throat feels raw, like I’ve swallowed gravel. The wind whips across the field, carrying the faint echo of a snowmobile engine fading into the trees. Too far already. I need to move. Need to go after her.
The world tilts again. Black spots dance in my vision.
I fight it, clenching my jaw against the pain.
Ex-military training kicks in, forcing me to assess.
One shot. Shoulder. Not fatal but bleeding bad.
I press my hand to the wound, feeling the sticky warmth pulse against my palm.
The metallic smell is stronger now, mixing with the sharp ozone of gunpowder still hanging in the air.
Hoofbeats and voices cut through the haze. Multiple riders. I recognize the sounds. Haven 7 men. Thank fuck.
"Harlan!" Boyd's voice booms across the field, deep and urgent. Snow crunches under galloping hooves as they close in.
I lift my head, vision blurry. Thorne and Rhett are there too, their horses kicking up powder. Silas rides in from another angle, sheriff's badge glinting even in the weak sunlight. Their faces are grim, eyes scanning the bloodied snow around me.
"Shot," I manage, voice weak. Pain lances through me with every word. "Sunny... taken."
Boyd swings down first, boots sinking deep into the snow with a crunch. He kneels beside me, his big hands careful as he checks the wound. The pressure makes me grunt, fresh blood welling hot between his fingers. "Easy, brother. We heard the shots from the compound. What the hell happened?"
"Derek," I growl, forcing the words out. My teeth chatter from the cold now seeping into my bones. The snow under me feels like ice, soaking through my back, numbing everything except the fire in my shoulder. "Her ex. Motherfucker. Took her... snowmobile."
Rhett drops down on my other side, his face hard. "We’ll get her back. Hold on."
They work fast. Thorne strips off his jacket and presses it to my wound, the fabric warm from his body but quickly turning wet and heavy.
The pressure hurts like hell, but it slows the bleeding.
I can smell the wool and sweat and gun oil on him.
Familiar. Safe. But not as safe as Sunny needs right now.
"Help me get him up," Silas orders, voice calm but edged with command.
Strong arms lift me, the movement sending white-hot pain exploding through my shoulder.
I bite back a roar, tasting more blood. The world spins, trees and sky blurring together.
Snow clings to my lashes, melting cold against my skin.
They get me onto Buck, my body slumped forward.
The horse's warmth radiates through the saddle, a small comfort against the freezing wind that cuts through my clothes.
The ride back to the main lodge is a blur of agony.
Every step Buck takes jars my wound. I fade in and out, head lolling, visions of Sunny flashing behind my eyes.
Her bright smile over breakfast. The way she called me Daddy last night, soft and trusting.
Her body warm and perfect under mine. The terror in her scream as Derek grabbed her.
I have to get to her. She’s scared. Alone with that monster. My sunshine doesn’t deserve this fear.
"Stay with us, Harlan," Boyd says from beside me, his hand steady on my good arm. The leather of his glove creaks as he grips tighter. The scent of horses and men and urgency fills the air around us.
We reach the main lodge. The big wooden building looms ahead, smoke curling thick from the chimney, carrying the warm smell of stew and fresh bread.
Lights glow in the windows like beacons.
Hands pull me down, boots hitting the porch steps with heavy thuds.
The door swings open, warm air rushing out to meet us, scented with woodsmoke and herbs.
Eli’s already there, medical bag open on the big table in the main room. "Get him on the table. Now."
They lay me down on the sturdy oak, the surface hard and cool against my back. The room spins. Faces blur above me. Rafe, Gavin, Chase, Wyatt. All of them. My brothers. The found family that built this place. Voices overlap, low and urgent.
"Shoulder's bad but he’s still talking," Silas says. "Bullet went through I think."
Eli cuts away my shirt with scissors, the cold metal snipping loudly.
The fabric pulls away sticky with blood, exposing the wound to the air.
It burns like fire. I hiss through my teeth, the sound raw.
Antiseptic wipes hit my skin next, sharp and stinging, the chemical smell cutting through everything else.
"Harlan, this is going to hurt like hell," Eli warns, his voice steady and professional. "But the bullet’s still in there. I need to get it out."
I nod once, jaw locked. "Do it. Then we go after her."
Pain explodes as Eli works. I feel the probe dig in, metal against torn muscle.
My vision whites out. A roar tears from my throat, echoing off the lodge walls.
Hands hold me down. Boyd on one side, Rhett on the other.
Their grips are iron, grounding me. Sweat beads on my forehead, dripping into my eyes, salty and hot.
The metallic tang of blood fills the room now, mixing with the stew bubbling in the kitchen nearby.
"Almost got it," Eli mutters. Tools clink. More antiseptic. The pull as the bullet comes free sends another wave of agony through me. I hear it drop into a metal tray with a small ping. Relief floods in behind the pain, but it’s short lived.
Stitching starts next, needle piercing skin, tugging thread through flesh.
Each pull burns. I focus on Sunny instead.
Her laugh. The way her body fit against mine on the couch during the storm.
The trust in her eyes when she called me Daddy.
"You’re one tough bastard," Wyatt says from nearby, his voice tight. "We’ll find her. I’m already running traces on any vehicles leaving the area."
Silas paces near the window, phone to his ear. His boots thud softly on the wooden floor. "Yeah, this is Sheriff Silas James. Need eyes on a snowmobile heading off Wedding Cake Mountain. Blond male, mid twenties, with a female passenger. Name Derek. Consider him armed and dangerous."
I force words out between clenched teeth as Eli works. "He took her... right after he shot me. Snowmobile. Headed toward the lower trails I think. She was screaming my name. Fighting him."
The memory hits hard. Her voice breaking. The terror in it. My chest tightens worse than the wound. I need her back. My sunshine. My girl. The one who made me feel alive again. Who looked at me like I hung the damn moon. Who trusted me to keep her safe.
Eli ties off the last stitch. "Bullet missed anything vital. You lost blood but you’ll live. Rest now."
"Like hell," I growl, trying to sit up. The room spins again. Pain radiates down my arm, hot and throbbing. Boyd pushes me back down gently but firmly.
"Easy, man. We’ve got this. The whole compound’s mobilizing."
Voices fill the room as the men plan. Thorne suggests tracking the snowmobile trails.
Gavin offers to check the roads into Timber Creek.
Chase talks about setting up roadblocks with Silas.
Every word fuels the fire in me. Protective rage burns hotter than the pain.
Derek touched her. Took her. Hurt her. I’ll tear him apart with my bare hands when I find him.
"Sunny’s tough," I say, voice rough but gaining strength. The lodge smells like home. Wood and family and safety. But without her it feels empty. "She’ll fight him every step. But she’s scared. She told me he always finds her. Always hurts her. I promised her she was safe here."
Silas ends his call and comes over. His hand grips my good shoulder. "We’ll bring her home, Harlan. I’ve got alerts out to every deputy and contact in three counties. Wyatt’s hacking traffic cams and gas station footage. He won’t get far."
I nod, breathing through another wave of dizziness.
The pain meds Eli gave me are kicking in, making the edges of everything softer, but the urgency stays sharp.
I can still feel Sunny's warmth from this morning. The way she leaned into me on the horse. The sparkle in her eyes when she called me Daddy. She needs me. I won’t fail her.
Hours seem to pass as they work on me and coordinate. The stew someone brings me tastes like ash, but I force it down for strength. The lodge fire crackles loudly, throwing heat across my skin. Outside, more men move, horses and trucks rumbling. The compound is alive with purpose. For her. For us.
I close my eyes for a moment, remembering the feel of her body against mine last night. Soft curves. Sweet moans. The way she trusted me completely. My sunshine doesn’t belong in the hands of a monster. She belongs here with me. In my cabin. In my bed. In my arms where I can keep her safe forever.
When I open my eyes again, determination settles deep in my bones. The pain’s still there, a constant burn, but it fuels me now. "As soon as I can ride, I’m going after her."
Boyd nods. "We all are."
The men around me are solid. Rugged. Ready. This is what Haven 7 means. Family that fights together. I’ll get my girl back. I’ll hold her again. Feel her call me Daddy in that soft voice. Kiss away her tears and promise her the world.
The wait is torture, every second stretching too long. But I hold on. For Sunny. My sunshine. The woman who cracked this grumpy cowboy wide open and made him believe in forever.
I’m coming for you, baby. Just hold on. Daddy’s coming.