Chapter 8
Chapter eight
Abigail
Pale winter light filters through the windows in thin bands, catching on the frost at the edges of the glass and turning the room a muted gold.
The sounds of what should be a perfect morning on Willow Creek Ranch sing in perfect harmony.
A soft song floating through the speakers, the sound of the fire crackling, and Lincoln and Beau talking quietly in the kitchen as Beau makes me breakfast.
Because I’m awake.
And I can feel everything.
I didn’t realize how sore I was until I woke up this morning.
That’s the thing people tend to forget about—how your body waits.
How it holds everything together until the danger passes, until the adrenaline runs its course, and then, suddenly, it’s all there.
Every muscle aches in a bone-deep way that feels less like pain and more like utter exhaustion.
It’s a system I’m all too familiar with, but one I haven’t felt since Maxim hit me for the last time—since the day before I ran for my life.
My ribs feel tight when I breathe too deeply, and my head feels a little fuzzy around the edges. Almost like my thoughts are wading through fog instead of air.
But I remind myself over and over again that I’m safe.
I’m bundled up on the couch, much like I was last night when I woke up, cocooned in warmth.
The sweatshirt I’m wearing is too big, sleeves swallowing my hands, soft with wear and faintly smelling like cedar and smoke.
Lawson. Thick socks warm my feet, and a blanket is draped over my legs with care—the corners tucked in tight to ensure I won’t get cold.
Lincoln walks around the couch and rests a mug of coffee between my palms, and I watch as the steam curls into the morning air.
And of course, it’s exactly how I take it, a splash of oat milk and a small spoonful of brown sugar.
Linc sits beside me, close enough that I can feel the steady warmth of him even through the fabric of the blanket.
He’s been hovering since the second I opened my eyes this morning.
His presence is constant, grounding, immovable.
Beau continues to move around the kitchen with quiet purpose while glancing over at me every few seconds. His hair is still a little wild from what looks like a restless night’s sleep, and concern is written into every careful step he takes.
He’s beautiful.
After a few more minutes, Beau comes to the living room and sets a plate down on the coffee table before cutting the food into smaller pieces, like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
Lincoln then reaches for the fork and hands it to me, his fingers brushing mine for just a heartbeat longer than necessary.
I blink at them, then let out a soft laugh. “You guys do know,” I say, voice gentle but amused, “that I can do this myself, right?”
Beau smiles, warm and unapologetic. “Yes, ma’am.”
Lincoln’s mouth curves just slightly, eyes never leaving my face. “We know.”
“Then why—”
“Because we want to,” Beau says easily.
My throat tightens, emotion swelling so suddenly that I have to look down at the plate before it spills over. I take a bite, more to steady myself than anything else. The food tastes good—comforting—but my appetite flickers.
“You have to eat, Sweetheart,” Lincoln urges gently.
“Your body went through a lot. You need to replenish your strength.
He takes the fork from me to load another bite onto it, but before he can move too far, I cup the side of his face with my now warm palm and lean in to place a gentle kiss to his lips.
He smiles against my mouth before leaning forward to scoop another bite, and I do the same thing to Beau.
“Thank you for my breakfast,” I say softly.
“Whatever you need, we’re here,” he replies.
“I know.”
I watch them as they cater to me. Lincoln looks like he hasn’t slept more than a few minutes at a time.
His exhaustion worn openly now that we’re in the morning light.
There’s something different in his eyes, something raw and unguarded that I’ve never seen before.
And Beau… his movements are softer than usual, like he’s afraid that even a loud noise might break something delicate within me.
They look wrecked.
And it’s because of me.
I feel terrible that my being in danger affected them so, and yet… selfishly… it makes something warm burrow its way into the depths of my soul.
After everything that happened—after thinking I might not see them again—the idea of not saying what’s been building between us feels almost unbearable. I don’t want to wait for the “right” moment. I don’t want to pretend there’s time to waste.
We’re past being uncomfortable about there being four of them. Now, it’s just a matter of my being brave enough to tell them what I’m thinking.
I turn toward Beau, my heart picking up speed for reasons that have nothing to do with fear. The words are right there, pressing against my ribs.
Ready.
He notices instantly that I have something I want to say, and he leans forward from where he sits on the coffee table and rests one hand on my cheek, thumb brushing lightly beneath my eye.
He kisses me softly, carefully, meant to reassure rather than claim—but it steals my breath nevertheless.
And when he pulls back, his forehead rests against mine for a quiet second longer.
I inhale slowly, grounding myself in him.
And then—
Hooves.
The sound is unmistakable. Snow crunching. The low snort of horses pulled up close to the house rather than the barn.
My head snaps up.
Lincoln’s gaze shoots to the window at the same time Beau straightens, his body going alert. “That’s—” Beau starts.
The front door swings open before he can finish.
Cold air rushes in, sharp and clean, carrying the smell of winter, leather, and horses. Jasper and Lawson stride inside without hesitation, boots still on, jackets dusted with snow. I stretch my neck to look out the window to find Dez and Atlas tied to the porch railing right out front.
Beau raises a brow as he looks down at Jas and Law’s boots—the same ones that are now leaving small puddles on the hardwood floor.
Lawson points at him. “I’ll mop later. I promise.”
“What’s going on?” I ask quietly, setting my mug down as I sense their urgency.
Jasper stops in front of us, reaches into his jacket, and pulls out his phone. His expression is set, resolved. “We know who can help us find the Coates brothers,” he says.
“Who?” Linc asks.
Jasper doesn’t answer. He just unlocks his phone and lifts it to his ear.
“Hey, Joe Joe,” he says casually. “Yeah—I—Hey! Not that I don’t want to talk to you, but I need to talk to one of your boyfriends instead.” He pauses for a minute and rolls his eyes. “Preferably the one in charge or the computer genius, please.”
“Abigail.” Dante’s deep voice rumbles through the speakerphone. Despite Jasper only meaning to talk to Luca or Sebastian, every single one of them is clearly on the line. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
The question warms my chest. Because as much as I know the four men in this house would give their lives to keep me safe, it means something to know there are others in my corner too.
Five more someones, actually.
Even though they barely know me.
“I’m okay,” I answer honestly. “Shaken. Sore. But I’m safe now.”
“We can be on the next flight out if you need us,” Joe adds without hesitation.
“Let’s table that idea for now,” Jasper says quickly.
“Jasper—”
“Josephine, se tuo fratello dice che sta bene—”
I don’t understand a word Luca says, but I can practically hear Joe lifting her brows through the phone. “Oh, pensi di potermi comandare a bacchetta adesso?”
Luca lets out a low chuckle, followed by the unmistakable sound of a kiss through the speaker. Despite the gravity of the conversation, a laugh slips out of me before I can stop it as I watch Jasper’s face twist in disgust.
“Since when does she speak Italian?” Beau whispers in Lawson and Lincoln’s direction.
“I have no idea,” Linc responds in a hushed tone.
“Non ci penserei nemmeno, Vita Mia,” Luca murmurs.
Jasper groans, dragging a hand down his face. “Can you guys just—”
“Mama,” Dante cuts in sweetly. “You’re torturing your brother.”
She laughs, completely unapologetic. “Sorry, Big Daddy.”
“Ohmyfuckingod,” Jasper groans, causing Beau to belt out a laugh. “Joe!”
“Right. Sorry.” She’s not.
I even notice Lawson and Lincoln fighting smiles too—tiny twitches at the corners of their mouths that say this chaos is one they’re more than familiar with.
“If Sebastian can figure out where Grayson and Caleb are,” Lawson says evenly, “then we should be able to handle the rest. We’ll let you know if anything changes.”
“And all of you are okay with… doing what needs to be done?” Enzo asks.
He doesn’t elaborate. He doesn’t have to.
The room goes quiet.
Lawson, Lincoln, Jasper, and Beau glance at one another—something unspoken passing between them—before every pair of eyes lands on me.
My throat tightens.
Never, in a million years, would I ask them to kill for me. To take another life because of me. And yet…
I know there’s no point in telling them not to.
I’ve lived amidst violence for most of my life.
I’ve seen death first-hand more times than I’d like to admit.
I’ve spent a few nights wondering if it would be a better companion than the life I was living.
And I know the look in a man’s eyes once they’re resigned to the fact that death is the only choice.
I’ve seen it in their eyes since the moment I woke up.
The pain.
The fury.
The feral, desperate need to protect what they love.
Me.
So, instead of speaking, I meet each of their gazes and give a single nod.
Whatever happens, I’m with you.
“We are,” Lawson answers for all of them. His voice is rough, but steady. Just like him.
“Alright then. I should be able to track them down within forty-eight hours,” Sebastian says. “Based on what I’m already seeing, they’re not exactly the brightest bulbs.”
“That’s a fucking understatement,” Beau mutters.
“Keller, on the other hand, might prove to be more difficult,” Sebastian continues.
“We’ll take whatever you can give us,” Lawson replies.
“I’m on it.”
“Thanks, Sebastian.”
“Promise me you won’t hesitate to call if you need us,” Joe says, her voice softer now—threaded with genuine concern. “Any of you. We’ll be on the first flight out. I mean it.”
Jasper’s expression softens. “I promise, Joe.”
“And Abs.” I straighten at the mention of my name. “I’m here whenever you need me. For anything. Okay?”
A soft smile pulls at my lips. I get the feeling her offer carries more weight than just tonight’s events—and judging by the way Jasper’s smile mirrors mine, I know exactly how much his sister’s offer means to him.
“Thank you, Joe,” I say quietly. “I’ll call you soon.”
“Thank god,” she groans dramatically. “I love them, but—besides Harper—there is entirely too much dick in my life.”
“Why you little—” Sebastian starts.
“Farò diventare rosso quel tuo culo,” another low voice growls before Josephine squeals with laughter.
“Okaygottagoloveyoubye!” Jasper blurts, ending the call before he can hear anything else.
An uncharacteristically mischievous smile spreads across Lincoln’s face. “You didn’t even let me tell her I love her, too.”
Jasper points at him. “Don’t even start. I’ll let all four of those guys fly here to kick your ass.”
Lincoln laughs as he winks at me.
“So,” Beau says after a beat. “Now what?”
Lawson exhales deeply. “Now… we wait.”