Chapter 33
thirty-three
Sawyer
After I don’t know how many hours, somewhere outside a coyote yips.
I tuck my chin into my chest, breathing slow.
I stare at the lines of moonlight now painting the barn floor.
My feet hurt. My hands are stiff, but I keep working the knot, praying for a weak thread.
My throat is so raw I don’t even try to scream anymore.
I might have drifted to sleep, eyes half-shut, when I hear it—my name. I freeze. It sounds like a hallucination, a voice I want so badly I almost think I’ve invented it.
“Sawyer.”
I blink, breathe, wait. Then, again:
“SAWYER.”
I hear it closer. Louder. It’s Trouble’s voice, but urgent, stripped to its core.
He’s here. Really here.
He’s pointing a gun to the ground, glancing around. He moves fast, not making a sound, until he’s next to me. He sees the rope and his face changes—soft for a second, then back to steel.
“Did they touch you?” he says, so low I barely catch it.
I shake my head.
He lets out a breath, pulls out a knife then unties me with hands that don’t shake, not even a little. The rope falls and I push up to stand, every muscle screaming in relief. I grab him, relieved that I’m finally in his arms.
“How did you—?”
“Cut the lock out back. They think we don’t know about this barn. Figured it had to be here.”
He glances around, then at me, and his voice drops. “We don’t have much time.”
“They said—” I swallow. “They said Knox owed them money.”
Trouble’s jaw clenches, but he just nods.
I sag against the post. “You knew?”
Trouble is quiet for a long beat. “Put it all together. Just didn’t wanna believe it. Knox must’ve been helpin’ them steal our shit, and they were payin’ him for it. I’m guessin’ he stopped and they didn’t take too kindly to it.”
A wave of guilt slams into me. I want to collapse. “I’m so sorry,” I say, “I’m so—”
He cuts me off, puts a hand to my cheek. “Don’t worry about any of that right now. We need to get you outta here.”
I nod, or try to.
He looks at me, really looks, and his eyes aren’t guarded for once. “I need you to listen to me.”
“Okay.”
“From the moment you rolled into town, you wrecked every plan I thought I had. I used to think I was happy living fast and reckless. Burning bridges. I told myself I didn’t need anything, didn’t need anyone.” He swallows hard, voice rough. “Until you.”
“Me?”
“You made me want things I never thought I deserved. A future. A reason to come home. Someone to fight for. And when I heard you’d been taken—” He rubs his jaw.
“I lost my damn mind. I’ve never been so scared in my life.
All I could think about was getting to you—finding you before it was too late.
I was about to burn this whole damn town to the ground until I saw you here, alive. Unharmed.”
He shakes his head, pushing through. “I’ve spent my whole life running from who I could become… terrified I’d turn into the man who broke me. But you? You’re the first person who’s made me want to try. To be better. To be good. Not for the world. Not for redemption. Just… for you.”
His voice breaks then, just a crack—but it guts me as he continues.
“I don’t know what love’s supposed to feel like. I was never shown the good kind. But if it’s this constant ache in my chest when I’m not near you… if it’s the way I feel like I can just be me when you’re around… if it’s the way everything slows down when you smile—then yeah. I think this is it.”
I feel like I’m going to break in half.
“Tristan,” I whisper. “Why are you saying all this?”
“Because we’re on their land, and they’re guarding the perimeter. There’s a good chance that if they catch us, they’re not going to ask questions. They’re just going to shoot.”
My stomach flips. “What? How many of them are there?”
“At least five. Maybe six. Knox created a diversion to buy us time, but it won’t last.”
I blink at him. “Knox did?”
“Yeah, so we need to hurry and get you out of here first.”
I look down at my hands. “I’m not leaving without you. Or Knox.”
“You don’t have a choice, darlin’.”
He grabs my hand and we move about four feet before everything goes to hell.
The main door of the barn bangs open, and two men step in, rifles in their hands. Trouble shoves me behind him, gun already pointed in their direction.
“Well, shit,” says the bearded guy. “Should’ve known she was your girl, Trouble.”
“Should’ve known you had a death wish, thinkin’ you could take what’s mine,” Trouble fires back.
The big one just laughs, but there’s nothing funny in it. He grabs something behind him and hauls it into the light—Knox, blood on his face, hands tied. They push him down onto the ground.
I make a noise, something between a scream and a sob. Trouble tightens his grip on my hand.
“Now what?” the big guy says. “Looks like we got the upper hand.”
Trouble’s voice is calm. Too calm. “Let them go, or I’ll make damn sure none of you walk outta here alive. Your call.”
Knox lifts his head, blood dripping from his mouth. He grins through it. “Sawyer. You alright?”
I nod, barely. “Been better.”
I start moving toward him, but Trouble throws an arm out, holding me back.
That’s when the bearded one steps forward, raising his rifle at Trouble. “What’re you gonna do, cowboy? You’re outgunned. Outnumbered.”
And then—
BOOM.
The barn door doesn’t just break, it detonates inward, sending splinters flying, then raining down around us. A truck barrels through, its thundering engine shaking the whole barn, the stench of diesel choking the air. The ground shakes when it slams to a stop, rattling my teeth.
The Stetsons spill out, boots hitting dirt hard, guns already raised.
Gunfire erupts—loud, brutal, like everything around me is shattering.
The air fills with smoke, and every shot is hot enough I swear I feel it sear across my skin. Men are shouting, voices ragged.
Trouble tackles me, driving the breath from my lungs as he shoves us behind an old rusted car. My palms scrape against flaking metal, the reek of oil and rust filling my nose. My heart slams in my ears, each beat competing with the gunfire.
“Stay down,” he yells.
Another bullet zings past. I flinch.
Then he leans in, voice right at my ear. “On three, you run. Don’t look back. Head for the fence.”
“No,” I whisper, panicked. “What about you?”
“I’ll be right behind you,” he promises. “I’ll get Knox and be right there.”
I can’t breathe. Can’t think. But I nod.
“One.”
“Two.”
“Three.”
I run.
Tristan shouted at me to go, so I ran, yes, but not far enough. Ten paces, maybe twelve, before I stop behind a big tractor on the property. Something green and monstrous.
But I can’t think. It doesn’t feel right being here. Knox isn’t here. He’s somewhere in the chaos, and so is Trouble.
Me, I just crouch and hyperventilate. I will not scream. I will not make a sound. If I do, they’ll find me. The noises come in waves. First, more gunfire, and it’s so close I can count the seconds between each shot. Then shouting. I don’t recognize the voices, I can’t wrap my head around it.
I squeeze my eyes shut and try to remember the last thing I said to Knox or Trouble. Did I tell them I loved them?
“Don’t let it be Knox.” I say it out loud like a prayer.
“Don’t let it be Tristan.” My words are desperate.
“Don’t let it be any of the Stetson's, not yet, not today.” I’ll do anything to keep it from being them. From being him.
Then, for the first time since I tucked myself behind this machinery, I see a glimmer—blue and red lights, faint and blinking.
They’re far, maybe a couple miles, but they’re coming fast. For a second, I allow myself to believe in a rescue.
That they’ll find a way to get here in time to save everyone.
A sob slips out, too quiet for anyone but the ground to hear because I remember that there’s nothing left to do but wait. I try to see inside the barn, but all I can make out are the shadows, shifting and flickering, lit up by flashes.
“Come on, come on,” I whisper. “Get here. Please.”
I hear another shot. My teeth chatter. My entire body is shaking, almost convulsing.
I imagine Knox, hair wild, doing some stupid line dance.
Then another shot, and I picture Tristan, that heart stopping grin of his, calling me sugar. The way he kisses me, the way he looks at me like I’m the only woman he’s ever laid eyes on.
The blue lights are closer now. I hear the sirens, distant but growing. I watch as they bounce and dip across the ruts in the old farm road. I could run for them, flag them down, but it won’t help them get here faster.
So I wait. I listen to my own heart, and I try to breathe.
Let this end. Let them make it out. Let me see them, just one more time. I have so much to tell them that I never did.
I can’t move. I can’t scream. All I can do is hope.
The gunfire stops and there’s silence. This is the part no one ever describes, where everything stands still and your body doesn’t know how to react. It doesn’t know whether to move or be brave and find a way to function.
I slide along the tractor, and I peek—slow, slow, slow—around it. There’s nothing coming out of it. No movement. No more shouts.
The sirens are close now, so close. I inch closer to the barn and then I freeze.
There’s movement. A figure—no, three figures—walk out.
For a second I can’t tell who’s who, only that they’re upright and not shooting anymore.
One of them is cradling his arm, the other is limping, the third just struts out like normal.
It’s not Knox. It’s not Trouble.
It’s Danger, Rogue, and Charming. They’re bruised but all look okay. Alive.
I straighten myself again, and I wait. I look for Knox. I look for Tristan. Nothing.
Then, finally, out of the shadows, two more bodies stagger into the light. One is half-carrying the other, and they look like the aftermath of a tornado—shirts torn, faces streaked with blood and dirt.
It’s Knox and Tristan.
They’re alive.
I’m moving before I know it, sprinting across the open, yelling something. Maybe their names, maybe just sounds. I cross the yard in what feels like a second and land next to them, hands shaking trying to wipe away the tears.
Tristan grins at me. “Hey, sunshine’,” he says, voice so soft it breaks me. “Miss us?”
I want to hug him, or attack him, just hold him so I can make sure he’s really here.
He lets go of Knox, who’s got a split lip but standing—alive. I open my mouth to tell him I love him, to say I’m going to kill him myself for this. I’m furious, but relieved. I know there has to be more to the story than what the Kennedys said about my brother, but I don’t care right now.
And then, like the world had only been on pause and someone just hit play again—a man stumbles out from behind a silo. Tank top stained. Gun raised. It’s pointed straight at Knox. I don’t even see him at first—just hear him: The anger and pain in his voice.
“You fucked everything up, Knox. Couldn’t just do what you were told.”
Everything slows, and my vision tunnels. My lungs forget how to work, burning in my chest. My knees go weak. I open my mouth and try to scream, but nothing comes out. I want to run to my brother and protect him. To keep the inevitable from happening.
The gun goes off.
But Trouble—Tristan moves first.
He doesn’t hesitate. Doesn’t think twice.
He throws himself in front of the bullet. Takes it straight in the chest.
And somehow, for half a second, he’s still standing and I wonder if maybe it missed him. If I didn’t see what I think I saw. But of course that’s not what happens.
And then he’s not standing.
Danger’s already there, already firing back. The other man goes down. He doesn’t get a name, or a last word. Or even a second thought. He’s just a body dropping.
But I’m not watching that.
I’m already running without thinking about it.
I go straight to him. To Trouble.
Because he’s not getting up. Why isn’t he moving? He’s strong. Too strong to go down like this. He’s a fighter. A pain in the ass, a protector. He’s mine.
And as I drop to my knees beside him, only one thing repeats in my head—this can’t be how our story ends.
I’m on him before I realize it, hands over his chest, trying to stop the blood with the only thing I have—my own body, my own hands. His eyes are shut, he’s still not moving.
“Don’t you dare,” I sob. “Don’t you fucking dare. Tristan, you stay with me, you son of a bitch, we need more time.”
I sob as time resumes, and the scene around me begins to move in fast forward. “You’re such a jerk for this. You’re my jerk. You don’t get to leave, do you hear me? I need you. I love you. My heart was yours long before I realized it.”
Knox is next to us, limp, pale. I turn to my brother, desperate. Maybe he can do something. Maybe he has an answer.
He just looks down at Tristan, tears in his eyes. And if you’ve never seen your big brother cry before, I do not recommend. It’s something I know will stay with me forever, it’ll always haunt me.
And if he didn’t suspect something was going on with Tristan and I, he knows now. But none of that matters, not for a second. Because Tristan saved my brother, even after he knew what Knox did. Because that’s the man he is.
Police swarm the yard, then. Guns drawn, voices barking, all of it so loud, but I don’t care. I think they’re yelling at us to put our hands up, but we don’t listen.
The paramedics try to pry me off of him, and I don’t let go, not until I’m physically peeled away. My fingers are sticky with blood and I’m shaking so bad I think I might throw up.
As they load Tristan onto the stretcher, I grab his hand.
“You were never just a fling, okay? You’re—you’re so much more than that, and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you enough.
I should have told you the truth. This is not the end for us.
” The words tumble out of me, as I cry them out.
“You’re not your father, you’re not broken, you’re—”
I watch as they wheel him away, watch as the cops drag the bad men off in cuffs around me, some in stretchers, I watch as Knox refuses to get on a gurney. An EMT tells me to come with, and I don’t argue. They let me ride in the ambulance, let me hold Tristan’s hand.
I don’t let go.