Chapter 30
Chapter Thirty
Hopper
It was hard to leave my bed—my home —after being with Nysa.
After surrendering myself to her.
After letting go of everything I thought I was holding onto—every wall, every inch of distance I thought I needed to keep.
Because making love to her . . . that was different.
I’ve had sex before—plenty of it. I’ve been with women, let them into my bed, let them into my body. But never like this.
Never like her.
Never with this aching, consuming, possessive need.
Because Nysa wasn’t just sex.
She was something else entirely.
And now, I can’t stop feeling her. Can’t stop remembering the way she gasped my name, the way she clung to me, like she didn’t want to let go—like she was as desperate for me as I was for her. I still taste her on my lips, feel her body in my skin. I don’t think I ever want to let go either. But for now, I had to leave. Work doesn’t stop. The ranch still needs me, and there’s still a threat looming over us, waiting to be dealt with.
So I pull myself out of bed, out of the warmth of her body, out of the place where I felt more whole than I have in years—maybe ever. And now, I’m here, back at the ranch. The world is still waking up.
The air is cool, tinged with the lingering dampness of dawn. The only sounds are the occasional rustling of horses in their stalls, the slow, rhythmic creak of wood shifting under the weight of the world coming alive. My mind isn’t on the ranch. It’s still back in my bed, with her.
I shift, running a hand over my stubbled jaw, trying to shake the feeling creeping through my chest. This isn’t just about what being with her meant. It’s about the kiss that won’t leave me. Not just the one before I slid inside her, but the one after.
After we were done, after I was still buried inside her, after she was shaking, panting, clinging to me like she didn’t want to let go.
I kissed her.
Soft. Slow. Different.
And I don’t know why I did it.
Not like that.
Not when I was supposed to keep things simple.
Not when I was supposed to . . . I can’t remember when or why this started, but I was not meant to fall for her. But I did, and now, I don’t know how to continue. I’ve never been in this place before. Never experienced love the way it’s happening right now. I don’t know how not to fuck it up. How not to lose her.
I exhale, rubbing the back of my neck, forcing myself to focus on the day ahead. I have horses to check on, security to go over, men to meet.
I drain the last of my coffee, setting the mug on the porch railing. Then I turn toward the barn. My phone buzzes and I think it’s Malerick, but when I glance down at the screen it says Unknown Number.
I frown. I press the phone to my ear. “Timberbridge.”
Static hums on the other end. A pause. And then?—
“Walk away from her, Hopper.”
I freeze.
The voice is distorted, warped beyond recognition. A mechanical rasp, hollow and inhuman.
Every muscle in my body locks into place. “Who the hell is this?”
Another pause. The kind that makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.
“Stay away from Nysa, or you’ll lose Maddie.”
The words drop like a stone into my chest, cold and suffocating. For a moment, I can’t breathe. I can’t think. Because whoever this is—they just threatened my daughter. Rage floods my veins, burning through the initial shock like wildfire. My grip on the phone tightens until my knuckles ache.
“You listen to me, you son of a bitch,” I growl, my voice low, dangerous. “If you so much as look at my daughter or Nysa, I’ll find you. And when I do?—”
A sharp click.
The call ends.
Silence.
I pull the phone away from my ear, my pulse hammering so hard I can hear it. The world tilts for a second, the ground shifting beneath me as the weight of what just happened slams into me all at once.
Maddie.
They threatened Maddie.
Whoever this is, they’re not just trying to scare me. They know who I am. They know who she is. I call Mal.
“Hopper?”
His voice is still rough from sleep, but I don’t care.
“We have a problem,” I say, my voice sharp.
That wakes him up fast. “What happened?”
I grip the steering wheel, my jaw tight. “Got a call from an unknown number. Distorted voice. They told me to stay away from Nysa.”
A beat of silence. Then— “That’s not surprising.”
I exhale sharply. “That’s not the part that matters.”
I hear him shift in bed, the rustle of sheets. “What is?”
I close my eyes for a second, trying to keep my pulse steady. “They said if I don’t, I’ll lose Maddie.”
The line goes dead silent. Then I hear Mal move—fast. The sound of something being knocked over, a muttered curse, then his voice, tight, controlled. “Where’s Maddie?”
“Asleep.” I glance toward the staircase. “Checked on her before I stepped outside. She’s fine, with Nysa.”
“We’ll keep her safe,” Mal mutters.
I let out a harsh breath. “What the fuck is happening here, Mal?”
I hear his chair creak as he sits down. “I don’t know. But if they’re threatening Maddie, this is worse than we thought.”
“No shit.”
There’s another pause. I can hear him thinking, piecing things together.
Finally, he says, “Someone isn’t doing their job.”
I frown. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, whoever’s watching us? They missed this.”
Something cold slithers down my spine. “You think someone’s protecting them?”
“I think someone’s either protecting them, or someone’s protecting us—and doing a damn bad job of it,” he says grimly. “We were supposed to have eyes on us, Hopper. Someone keeping a low profile, making sure nothing got too close. But they missed a stalker breaking into houses. They missed a fucking phone call threatening your kid.”
I grip the wheel tighter, my knuckles turning white. “Then we have a bigger problem.”
“Yeah,” Mal agrees. “We do.”
By the time Mal arrives, I’m pacing the kitchen, my pulse still running too fast. He steps inside, his expression as grim as I’ve ever seen it.
“Tell me everything,” he says, not wasting time.
I relay the conversation word for word, every pause, every calculated moment of silence on the other end. Mal listens, his jaw tightening with each detail. I already knew that. But hearing it out loud makes it worse.
“What now?” I ask. “Because if you don’t have a solution. I’m packing my shit and taking her away—both of them. I don’t care about your plan.”
“Give me a day. If I don’t have anything by tonight, you can do that. You can take them away and I’ll deal with the fallout,” he states.
But will he be able to do anything? Can we survive?