Chapter 2
Chapter two
Lawson
The world narrows to the sound of my own blood as it courses through my body.
Snow tears at my face as Atlas eats up the ground beneath us, hooves racing through the deep snow, breath steaming hard and fast. Branches whip past, cracking against my shoulders, my jaw, but I don’t feel any of it. I don’t feel the cold or the burn in my lungs as I gasp for breath.
All I feel is the scream.
All I feel is the way the sound rips through my very being, destroying who I once was.
It echoes in my head even after it’s gone—sharp, desperate, cut off too fast.
“Abigail!” I roar, leaning lower over the saddle, reins slack in my fist, because Atlas doesn’t need them. She feels it too. Fear. Urgency. Desperation.
Lights slice through the trees ahead—wild, frantic. ATVs. Two of them. One sits dead in the snow near the riverbank, half buried. The other fishtails wildly farther back, its headlights jerking between the trees.
Lucy bursts out of the dark, barking so hard her whole body shakes as she runs past us toward the river.
River.
My stomach drops.
Because, even though this ranch was named after this place, Willow Creek isn’t a creek at all.
It’s a deep river, constantly filled with cold runoff from the mountains, which means it never freezes.
It spends every day cutting through the land, reminding it, and us, how unforgivable something as simple as water can be.
“Lawson!” Lincoln shouts somewhere behind me. “By the creek!”
I follow the glow of his flashlight, and I see her.
A shape tumbling down the embankment. Then a splash.
“No—no, no, no—”
I don’t stop Atlas. I just throw myself off, hitting the snow hard enough to jar my teeth. Snow fills my boots instantly as I sprint toward the river, lungs screaming, vision tunneling.
Then, a man breaks from the trees ahead of me, sprinting after her.
Ethan Coates—the middle brother.
I know his shape. I know his gait. I’ve seen him too many times in places he doesn’t belong.
My rage detonates, and I hit him like a freight train.
It’s pure momentum—my shoulder slamming into his ribs, the two of us crashing sideways through the snow and brush. We roll, hard and ugly, bodies colliding with frozen ground.
His head snaps back.
There’s a sound.
Not a crack.
A thud.
I’m on him instantly, straddling his chest, fist already cocked back, breath coming in savage bursts.
“Get the fuck away from her!” I snarl, vision red, every instinct screaming to finish it.
But he doesn’t fight back.
He doesn’t struggle.
He doesn’t breathe.
My fist freezes midair.
Ethan’s eyes are open. But they’re empty. Blood stains the snow beneath his head, dark and spreading where it met rock hidden under the drift he landed on.
“Fuck,” I hiss as I press two fingers to his throat, checking his pulse.
Nothing.
“We’ve gotta move, Law,” Beau says from behind me as Lincoln sprints past me toward the river.
For one suspended second, the world goes eerily quiet. No engines. No shouting. Just the river rushing and my pulse roaring in my ears.
Then an engine revs sharply to the left.
“Caleb!” Jasper yells. “He’s running!”
I look up just in time to see the youngest Coates brother backing away, eyes wide, face ashen as he takes in the scene—Ethan’s body, all of us, the horses looming behind.
Fear overtakes him, and he bolts. Because he knows what we’ll do if he stays.
“Let him go!” Beau snaps, already following Lincoln. “There’s another ATV. We’ll deal with them later.”
“There’s no time, Jas,” I say as I climb off Ethan before sprinting toward the river.
She’s half in the water near the bank, her hair tangled in low-hanging branches, her body terrifyingly still as the current tugs at her legs.
“No. No, no—” Lincoln’s on his knees at the water’s edge in seconds, plunging his arms in without hesitation. I’m right behind him, already grabbing at her shoulders. The cold is instant and brutal, like knives slicing into my skin.
“On three,” he says, voice tight. “One—two—”
We haul her small frame out of the water together.
She’s limp as I pull her against my chest, my heart shattering as I feel how cold she is. How wrong it feels to hold her like this.
Her lips are blue. Her skin pale and waxy. Frost clings to her lashes and hair.
“Abigail,” I whisper desperately, brushing wet hair from her face. “Honey. Look at me.”
Nothing.
I press my ear to her chest as Lucy settles in the snow next to us. For a terrifying second, Lucy’s whimpers are the only thing I hear. And then—
A shallow, uneven breath. It rattles, wet and thin, like her body is struggling to remember how
“There,” I choke. “She’s breathing.”
“We have to get her clothes off,” Jasper commands as Beau takes off his jacket next to him. “Lawson—she’s hypothermic. Her clothes.”
Right.
Quickly as we can, Linc and I tear off her soaking wet clothes until she’s in nothing but her bra and underwear.
Beau hands me his sweatshirt and jacket—leaving him in nothing but his long sleeve—and I slide them over her.
Next thing I know, Jasper’s handing me his socks and sliding his bare feet back into his boots as Lincoln slides them over her blue toes.
“We have to move,” Linc says grimly. “Now. Before her core temp drops any more.”
Jasper sweeps the tree line with his jaw clenched tight. “Second ATV’s gone. Tracks head deeper into the woods.”
There will be a reckoning—but not yet.
Right now, Abigail is dying in my arms.
“Stay with me,” I beg under my breath. “You don’t get to leave. You hear me?”
Her lashes flutter once.
Just once.
“Lawson,” Beau says urgently.
Right.
“Jas,” I snap. “You and Dez are the fastest. You take her.” Jasper nods, and the four of us head up the riverbank with her in my arms.
“Abigail,” I murmur as we move. “You were so brave. You got away. My brave girl.” As we approach the horses, Jasper gives me one last look—one full of devastation and fear—before he mounts Destiny in one fluid motion.
“He’s got you,” I whisper fiercely before pressing my mouth to her temple, over and over again. “Just hold on, Honey.”
I lift her carefully so she’s settled against his chest. He grips Destiny’s reins in one hand and wraps his other arm around Abigail. Pressing every inch of heat he has into her.
She doesn’t stir.
“Go,” I tell him. “Don’t stop.”
Destiny lunges forward, muscles bunching beneath Jasper and Abigail as she tears through the woods with Lucy not far behind.
“What are we gonna do about him?” Lincoln asks as he and Beau mount their horses. Clearly neither is eager to stay here and deal with it.
I quickly mount Atlas and look at the woods behind me, where one brother lies dead, and two more are hiding. Running.
But right now, none of them matter.
All that exists is the fragile rise and fall of Abigail’s chest, and the desperate, bone-deep certainty that we are minutes away from losing her forever.
“We’ll come back and deal with the body later. The brothers won’t come back. Right now, we just need to get to her. We need to get home.” And with a crack of the reins, Atlas speeds forward.