Chapter 8
Chapter
Eight
brIAR
T he garden was hers. Or at least, that’s how it felt now. Over the past few days, Briar had worked her way through the tangled weeds, restoring life to the long-neglected space. Each time she pulled a stubborn root from the soil or pruned an overgrown vine, the heaviness inside her started to lessen, at least a little bit. This had become more than just tending a garden—it had become a way to ground herself, to gain back and begin stitching together the pieces of her soul.
Briar swiped a forearm across her brow, brushing away the sweat and dirt. The sun beat down, warming her skin, but she didn’t mind. The sun had brought out the freckles in her skin. Even with her floppy gardening hat, a sprinkling of freckles now raced across her cheekbones and nose. The small stone fountain in the center of the garden was scrubbed clean now, dry but ready to hold water again. The overgrown trellises were starting to look tidy, and the raised beds, which she’d thought were hopeless at first, were on their way to being fertile again. It did help that she had aged and seasoned manure with which to enrich the soil, and Colt had assigned one of the hands to repair the water supply for the fountain and to the irrigation system she had uncovered.
This place mattered. It mattered to her, and it had mattered to Colt’s mother, a woman she’d never met but somehow felt connected to. Briar liked the idea of honoring her in some small way. Maybe a little plaque or marker—something simple but meaningful to show that her garden had been loved, both then and now.
She knelt down beside one of the raised beds, pulling weeds from the soft soil, and lost herself in the rhythm of the work. The cat—her constant shadow—stretched lazily on the edge of the bed, watching her with sleepy eyes. A quiet hum of contentment buzzed under her skin.
And that’s when she heard it: the distinctive, dry rattle of a snake. The sound sent a cold shiver down Briar’s spine. Slowly, she stilled her hands, her heart hammering in her chest as she listened to the ominous ch-ch-ch-ch noise. She knew that sound—it was a warning. A deadly one.
She turned her head slowly, scanning the area with deliberate caution. There it was—a rattlesnake coiled at the edge of the bed, its sleek body shimmering in the sunlight, muscles taut and ready to strike.
Panic bubbled up inside her, but Briar forced it down. No sudden movements. She knew better than to give it a reason to attack. Her pulse pounded in her ears as the snake hissed, its rattle shaking harder, the tight coil of its body promising violence.
Instinct told her to move—to run. But another instinct, deeper and older, whispered a different suggestion.
Briar eased back slowly on her heels, drawing in a careful breath. And then, without thinking, she began to hum—a soft, soothing melody that seemed to rise from somewhere deep inside her. The sound vibrated through her chest, low and steady, as if the song had always been there, waiting for a moment like this.
The snake’s rattle faltered.
Briar kept humming, her voice gentle and unthreatening. The snake tilted its head slightly, almost as if it were listening, although she knew that was impossible as snakes had no ears. Nevertheless, its tense coils were loosening inch by inch. And then, as if deciding it had no quarrel with her after all, the rattlesnake uncurled its long body and slithered away, disappearing into the tall grass beyond the garden.
Briar sat frozen, her heart still hammering, as the reality of what had just happened sank in. Slowly, she released a shaky breath, her hands trembling. She’d sent it on its way, just like that… just like… magic . The realization settled over her slowly, both terrifying and exhilarating. She had done something—something impossible. Realization dawned that it hadn’t been the first time.
The flowers that seemed to bloom brighter under her care, the way the animals gravitated toward her, even the way the cat had followed her like an old friend—it was all connected. A thread of magic, subtle but undeniable, ran through her veins.
She sat back on her heels, a mix of wonder and fear swirling inside her. Magic wasn’t something she had ever consciously pursued or understood. But it was there, woven into her being, waiting patiently for her to remember.
And now that she had, there was no going back.
Briar exhaled slowly, wiping her hands on her jeans to steady herself. The fear she’d felt moments ago faded, replaced by a strange elation. Whatever this power was, it was hers. And for the first time since she’d awakened here at Copper Canyon ranch, she didn’t feel entirely powerless.
A slow, tentative smile tugged at the corners of her lips. The idea of magic—of having power—both scared and thrilled her. So she now knew she had magic. Could she control it? If not, could she learn?
The barn cat returned cautiously, emerging from the underbrush and rubbing against her side as if nothing had happened. Briar laughed softly, scratching the cat behind the ears.
“Well,” she murmured to the cat, her voice light with amusement, “looks like we’re going to be just fine.”
She stood, brushing the dirt from her clothes and adjusting the brim of her hat. The garden stretched before her, full of potential—and now, full of possibility.
Whatever this magic was, she wasn’t going to run from it. Had she done so in the past? Had it come upon her suddenly and frightened her? No, that didn’t feel right. Perhaps it had frightened those around her. That made more sense given that unrelenting feeling of being hunted.
As she returned to her work, the sun climbed higher in the sky, casting a warm light over the garden—her garden—and the quiet, hidden power growing within her.
As the afternoon began to lengthen the shadows and evening began to settle over Copper Canyon Ranch, Briar found herself restless. The idea of sitting across from Colt at dinner, feeling his steady gaze on her and the hum of attraction that buzzed whenever he was near, felt overwhelming. Not tonight. Not when her mind was already swirling with too many questions and strange, half-formed memories.
When she entered the house through the kitchen door, Etta called to remind her about supper, Briar offered an apologetic smile and feigned exhaustion.
“If it’s all right, I think I’d like to skip tonight,” Briar said, doing her best to sound genuinely worn out. “I just need some rest.”
Etta studied her with a keen, knowing gaze, but didn’t press the issue. “All right, sweetheart,” the housekeeper said kindly. “But if you change your mind, you know where to find us. If you don’t come down, I’ll have a tray sent up for you.” Etta raised her hand to ward off the argument. “You need to eat. You’re working so hard out in the garden, and Colt said you weren’t to miss meals.”
Briar grinned. “He’s kind of bossy.”
Etta laughed out loud. “He’s all kinds of bossy, but that’s part of his job.”
With that, Etta gave a warm smile and disappeared down the hall, leaving Briar alone with the fading light and her tangled thoughts as she traipsed upstairs to her room.
She moved to the window, drawn to the sunset painting the sky in brilliant shades of orange and purple. The wide expanse of land stretched before her, peaceful and undisturbed, the air buzzing faintly with crickets and the occasional soft nicker of a horse from the barns. The quiet beauty of it all settled over her, soothing some of the unease still lingering in her chest.
Briar curled up on the window seat, resting her chin on her knees as she watched the sun dip lower beyond the horizon. The stillness of the moment allowed her mind to drift, and slowly, bits and pieces of her past began to rise from the depths of her memory—shadows she’d been running from since the night she stumbled onto the ranch.
It had all started with them. Her coven. That brought her up short. She had a coven? She tested it out in her mind. She did. There were dark, bitter thoughts that swirled around that memory, but the memory was there.
With that piece unlocked, more memory rushed in.
They had arranged a match for her—a union with a warlock from a neighboring coven. The mere thought of him and being bonded with him made Briar’s skin crawl. The match hadn’t been based on love or companionship, nor even respect. No, it had been a purely political arrangement, a way for the two covens to consolidate power. And she had been nothing more than a pawn in their game.
She clenched her jaw, anger bubbling to the surface. It was still difficult to piece everything together—her memories were clouded and fragmented—but the emotions were sharp and clear. The man she was supposed to be bound to had been a monster, though not in appearance. His cruelty ran deeper than anything visible on the surface, hidden behind polished words and false smiles. His eyes had gleamed with malice, and his touch had been cold, predatory, reptilian.
And worse, he had wanted more than just a bride.
Briar shuddered, wrapping her arms tighter around herself. The union would have magnified her considerable magic, making the warlock even more powerful. She had seen the hunger in his eyes the moment he realized what her magic could do. To him, she wasn’t a person—just a tool, a source of power he could claim and bend to his will.
When she tried to refuse, everything had unraveled.
Her would-be suitor hadn’t taken kindly to rejection. He had shown his true nature that night, grabbing her by the arm hard enough to leave bruises and backhanding her into a wall as he spewed ugly threats in her ear. If she didn’t submit willingly, he promised, he’d take what he wanted by force. And her coven—those who were supposed to protect and guide her—had stood by and done nothing.
They had wanted the match. They had needed the power it promised. Her protests had fallen on deaf ears.
She had realized then, with a clarity that left her breathless, that no one in her coven would come to her defense. Not her elders, not her friends, not even the mentors she had once trusted. She was alone.
So she did the only thing she could. She ran.
The memory hit her like a wave, cold and relentless. She could still feel the rain pounding against her skin as she fled into the night, the bruises on her arms aching with every step. She had left everything behind—her home, her coven, her life—knowing she had no other choice.
They would have given her away, handed her over to that monster, all for the sake of power. And she couldn’t let that happen. She wouldn’t be a pawn for anyone’s gain.
Tears welled in Briar’s eyes, as she wrapped her arms around herself, rocking back and forth. She blinked the tears away, forcing herself to stay grounded in the present. She was safe now. The warlock wasn’t here, and neither was her coven. They didn’t know where she was. Copper Canyon was a big place; Texas, even bigger.
Still, the fear clung to her, wrapping around her heart like a vice. What if they came looking for her? What if they found her here?
She hugged her knees tighter, staring out at the darkening landscape. A part of her wanted to tell Colt everything, to lay the truth at his feet and beg him to keep her safe. But how could she endanger those who had taken her in, healed her mind, body and spirit? A part of her said leaving would be self-preservation, but another part, an even greater part, said staying would threaten the lives of those who had come to mean something to her. Briar wasn’t sure what she should do. It seemed best to remain at least a little while longer—grow stronger, learn more about her own power, and then leave. She needed to keep her thoughts and plans to herself. The less anyone knew, the safer she would be.
Grief for something that might have been clutched at her insides. She’d been starting over. She’d begun to feel happy, hadn’t she? This garden, this ranch, these people, and this strange pull she felt toward Colt—it all felt like a second chance. But even as she tried to convince herself of that, doubt and guilt gnawed at her. Running had bought her time, but how long before her past caught up with her?
The sun slipped beneath the horizon, leaving the sky awash in deep purples and blues. Briar exhaled slowly, resting her forehead against the cool glass of the window.
She didn’t know what tomorrow would bring, but for tonight, she would hold on to this moment of peace. She would let herself believe—if only for a little while—that she could build something new here. Something that wasn’t shaped by fear or manipulation.
And maybe she could learn what it felt like to belong somewhere. Or with someone.
Colt’s face drifted unbidden into her thoughts, and with it came a flicker of warmth, soothing the edges of her fear. His steady presence, the way he looked at her like she was more than a broken thing, had given her hope. Hope that, perhaps, there was something more for her. Hope that whatever had been hunting her would stop. But knowing what she knew now, could she continue to believe that? Maybe for a short time. Maybe just long enough to finish the garden, to leave a piece of herself behind.
Briar’s thoughts drifted like leaves caught on a breeze. She wanted to believe what Colt had told her—that she was welcome here, that she could stay as long as she needed, no questions asked. But part of her knew she couldn’t. Even if she could, she couldn’t do so without telling him everything. He needed to be able to make an informed decision. No matter how kind everyone had been, there was always the looming threat that one day someone might come looking for her. Someone who wasn’t willing to take no for an answer, and if that day came, she wasn’t sure what would happen next.
Would they still let her stay? Would she be forced to leave once they learned what she was? Or would they simply hand her over and be rid of her?
A soft sigh escaped her lips as she watched the last rays of sunlight fade into twilight. So far, everyone at the ranch, save for Elle, had treated her kindly. The other women—despite the occasional covetous glances cast toward Colt—had warmed up to her slowly. Some had even started including her in conversations when she passed by the kitchens or helped Etta. They weren’t exactly friends yet, but there was a growing sense of acceptance that had given Briar a sliver of hope.
Colt’s brothers, Bryce and Landon, had already started treating her like one of the family, teasing her lightly and inviting her to watch them work with the livestock. Their easy camaraderie was infectious, and Briar found herself smiling more in their company. It felt strange to belong somewhere, even just a little.
And then there was Colt.
He had been attentive— so attentive. Too attentive, really. There was a steady warmth in his gaze whenever their eyes met, a quiet protectiveness in the way he made sure she was comfortable, fed, and looked after. He didn’t hover, but he was always there when she needed him, his presence grounding her in ways she didn’t fully understand.
And it wasn’t just his kindness that left her breathless—it was him. His deep, rumbling voice that seemed to wrap around her like a blanket, the way he moved with quiet power, the intensity in his eyes whenever they spoke. Colt made her feel seen, like she mattered. Like she belonged here with him. It was more than she had ever expected, and the realization terrified her almost as much as it thrilled her.
Briar closed her eyes for a moment, letting herself bask in the quiet joy of it, just for a little while longer. She needed to believe that this could be real, that she could stay. That the past would stay buried and never catch up with her.
T he next day Briar was back in the garden, her hands buried in the cool soil as she worked to reclaim the neglected beds. The physical labor soothed her restless mind, giving her something tangible to focus on as she pulled weeds, trimmed vines, and coaxed life back into the plants. The sun was warm on her skin, and the small, round-faced cat who had taken a liking to her lounged nearby, occasionally swatting at a stray leaf or flower.
Her thoughts drifted as she worked, wandering into daydreams. She thought about the little plaque she’d have made for the garden once it was fully restored—something simple, in honor of Colt’s mother. Maybe he’d like that. The thought of surprising him with something meaningful made her happy in a way that was unexpected and bittersweet. It would embody the part of her that would always remain here.
She paused for a moment, brushing dirt from her hands and tucking a stray curl behind her ear. The idea of Colt smiling, genuinely touched by her efforts, made her feel warm in a way she hadn’t felt in a long time.
Lost in her thoughts, she barely noticed the approach of footsteps until it was too late.
“Well, well,” a familiar voice drawled from behind her. “If it isn’t our friendly, resident gardener.”
Briar stiffened, the warmth that had enveloped her only a moment before vanishing like a wisp of smoke. She turned slowly to find Elle standing at the garden gate, her arms crossed and her lips curled into a smug, knowing smile. She wondered vaguely and in passing if she could turn Elle into a toad.
“Busy little bee, aren’t you?” Elle continued, her tone laced with thinly veiled contempt. She stepped into the garden, her sharp gaze raking over Briar as if searching for weaknesses to exploit.
Briar forced herself to stay calm, though her heart thudded uncomfortably in her chest. “Just trying to make myself useful,” she replied evenly, turning back to her work.
Elle’s laugh was soft and unpleasant, like the rustle of dry leaves. “Oh, you’re definitely making yourself useful,” she said, her voice dripping with condescension. “At least to Colt.”
Briar ignored the jab, keeping her hands busy with the plants, but Elle wasn’t finished.
“What exactly are you doing here?” Elle asked, her voice sharper now. “What are your intentions where Colt is concerned?”
Briar’s hands stilled, and she slowly rose to her feet, brushing the dirt from her palms as she met Elle’s gaze head-on. “I don’t have any intentions, and even if I did, what business of yours would it be?” she said carefully, though the words felt hollow even to her own ears.
Elle’s eyes narrowed, and she stepped closer, her expression turning cold. “He’s mine, you know,” she said, holding up her hand to show off a glittering ring on her finger. The diamond caught the sunlight, sparkling like a challenge.
Briar blinked, momentarily thrown off balance. “You’re... engaged?”
Elle’s smile widened, her eyes gleaming with triumph. “That’s right. Colt and I have been practically promised to each other since we were children. So whatever little game you think you’re playing here” —she gestured around the garden with a dismissive wave— “you can stop. It won’t change anything.”
Briar’s initial surprise faded quickly, replaced by a calm she hadn’t expected. She tilted her head slightly, studying Elle with quiet detachment. “If that’s the case,” she said softly, “then I wish you both the best.”
Elle blinked, clearly not expecting that response. “What?”
Briar smiled faintly, though it didn’t reach her eyes. “If you and Colt are meant to be together, then I hope it works out. Truly. He has been so kind to me; I only want the best for him.”
For a moment, Elle seemed at a loss for words, her mouth opening and closing in stunned disbelief. It was clear she had expected more of a fight—perhaps even a confrontation—but Briar refused to give her the satisfaction.
Without another word, Briar turned her back on Elle and returned to her work, her hands steady as she trimmed a vine that had grown wild. The cat, sensing the tension in the air, hopped onto the edge of the raised bed and flicked his tail lazily, as if to say, ‘ Well done.’
Elle lingered for a moment longer, clearly annoyed by Briar’s lack of reaction. But when it became clear that Briar wasn’t going to engage, she huffed in frustration and stalked off, her boots crunching angrily against the gravel path.
Briar waited until the sound of Elle’s footsteps faded completely before exhaling a quiet breath of relief. Her hands trembled slightly, but she forced herself to focus on the plants, grounding herself in the familiar rhythm of the garden.
She knew now, without a doubt, that her place here wouldn’t be uncontested. Elle was a complication she hadn’t anticipated, but it wouldn’t be the woman’s jealousy that drove her away. She truly did wish Colt and the others the very best. Perhaps the time to leave was sooner rather than later. She could always send the plaque after she was gone.
Let Elle play whatever games she wanted. Briar had no intention of competing for anyone’s attention—not even Colt’s. At least, that’s what she told herself. But as a cold feeling of desolation settled around her like a shroud, Briar couldn’t deny the truth she’d been trying to ignore: she wanted to stay. And a small, dangerous part of her hoped that Colt wanted her to stay, as well.