Chapter 38 #2
She slumped to the floor, gasping for breath, one hand pressed to her bruised throat. Through watering eyes, she watched the Irish wolfhound drag Landry toward the door, his teeth shredding the sleeve of Landry’s jacket, drawing blood.
“Get it off me!” Landry shrieked, flailing wildly with his free arm. “Jesus Christ, get it off!”
Bramble didn’t let go. Not even when Landry’s fist connected with the dog’s ribs. Not even when Landry kicked at him. With inexorable strength, the usually gentle wolfhound dragged him across the floor, through the shattered doorway, and out onto the snow-covered porch.
Maggie crawled to the doorway just as Anson sprinted up the cabin steps. He took one look at her, shirt ripped, lip bleeding, and she saw the moment something inside him snapped.
She tried to call his name, but her voice wouldn’t work.
He reached down, grabbed Landry by the collar, and hauled him to his feet, tearing him from Bramble’s jaws.
“You touched her?” His voice was deadly quiet. When Landry didn’t immediately answer, he shook him like a rag doll. “Did. You. Fucking. Touch. Her?”
Landry’s bloody lips peeled back in a defiant smile. “Yeah, many times.”
Anson’s fist connected with his jaw with a sickening crunch, and he went sprawling off the porch. He dropped to his knees in the snow, but Anson hauled him up again, landing another punishing blow to his stomach.
“Anson!” Her throat burned, and her voice was barely more than a rasp. “Anson, stop!”
He didn’t seem to hear her. His fists rose and fell in a brutal rhythm, knuckles splitting against Landry’s face. Blood spattered the snow under them, bright red against pristine white.
Boone appeared at the edge of the porch and took in the scene with a single glance. “Sutter!” he barked. “Enough!”
Anson didn’t stop. His face was a terrifying blank mask, eyes fixed on some point beyond Landry, beyond all of them. His arm drew back for another blow.
Boone lunged forward and caught his wrist. “Stop. Now.”
Anson wrenched free and spun to face Boone with raised fists. For a sickening second, Maggie thought he might attack his friend, too, but then Bear materialized behind him and wrapped thick arms around him, pinning his arms to his sides.
“He’s down, Sut,” Bear rumbled in his ear. “He’s not getting up.”
Landry lay sprawled in the snow, blood bubbling from his split lips, one eye already swelling shut. But even beaten, he managed a twisted smile. “That’s all you got, Maggie? Some felon to fight your battles?”
Anson surged against the restraint. “I’m going to kill him.”
“No.” Bear’s arms tightened. “It’s not worth it. Believe me. It’s not. Go to Maggie. She’s what’s important, not that fucker.”
At the mention of her name, Anson’s gaze finally found hers. The blind rage in his eyes gave way to something else—horror, fear, gut-wrenching worry—and he stopped struggling against Bear’s hold.
Bramble had returned to her, whimpering softly as he licked her trembling hands. She buried her fingers in his rough coat.
“Good boy,” she whispered, voice cracking. “Such a good, brave boy. The best boy.”
“You level now?” Bear asked Anson, who nodded. The big man cautiously released him, but still held those large hands up, ready to grab again if needed.
But Anson only had eyes for her now. He vaulted up the steps and dropped to his knees, gathering her against his chest. His hands shook as he touched her face, her throat, cataloging the damage.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured, voice wrecked. “I’m so sorry. I should have been here. Should never have left you alone.”
“Not your fault.” She leaned into him, seeking his solid warmth to chase away the chill. “Bramble saved me.”
The rest of the Valor Ridge family arrived in a rush.
Ghost appeared first, silent and deadly as his namesake, his cold gray eyes taking in every detail of the scene. “Fuck. How did he get through my security?”
“He hijacked Greta’s truck,” Bear said.
Ghost cursed in a creative string of profanity.
Walker and Johanna were right behind Ghost. Walker was already on his phone, calling the authorities.
“Is Greta okay?” Jo asked.
“She will be,” Bear said, his voice tight with barely contained fury. “Lila’s with her.”
Naomi came next, her steady gaze moving from Landry to Maggie and back again. Without a word, she pulled zip ties from her pocket—Maggie wasn’t even surprised she carried them—and knelt beside Landry.
“You have the right to remain silent,” she said, voice clipped and professional as she secured his wrists. “Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law.”
“You’re not a cop,” Landry spat, wincing as the plastic cut into his already-raw wrists.
“No, I was FBI,” Naomi corrected. “Now I’m Tribal Police, and you’re trespassing on reservation-adjacent property. Among other things.”
River and X appeared around the side of the cabin, having clearly run all the way from the main house. Jonah and Jax were right behind them.
“Holy shit,” Jonah breathed, taking in the bloodied snow, the splintered door. “We heard Bramble from the house. Sounded like he was tearing someone apart.”
“He was.” Anson’s voice was rough with emotion. He looked up at the assembled group, something like wonder crossing his face. “You all came.”
“Course we did,” Walker said. “You’re family.”
Johanna edged past them all to get into the cabin, then returned moments later with a blanket that she draped around Maggie’s shoulders. “Let’s get you inside where it’s warm.”
“No.” She clutched the blanket around herself with one hand, the other still buried in Bramble’s fur. “Not in there. Not right now.”
The memory of being pinned against that wall, Landry’s arm crushing her throat, was too fresh. She couldn’t go back in, not yet.
Without a word, Anson scooped her up into his arms. She thought he’d carry her to his cot in the forge, but instead he headed for the bunkhouse.
“Where are we going?”
“My bunkroom. The forge is too far away from everyone else.”
She nodded, too exhausted to argue. The adrenaline was wearing off, leaving her shaky and nauseous. Her throat throbbed where Landry had pressed against it, and her wrists felt raw from his grip.
Behind them, Landry tried to struggle to his feet, but X planted a boot firmly between his shoulder blades, pressing him back down.
“Stay down, pendejo. Unless you want me to finish what Bramble and Anson started.”
Bramble’s ears perked up at his name, and X laughed. “Yeah, big guy. You did good.”
“Wait.” She pushed against Anson until he stopped walking. She looked over his shoulder at Landry, who glared up at her from the snow, blood still trickling from his split lip. “I want him to hear this.”
Anson tensed, but he turned and gave her the chance to face the man who had terrorized her for years.
“Landry, listen to me very closely. Even if you weren’t crazy as fuck, I’d never take you back. I’m never working with you again. In fact, you are never working at HDN again, period. Or anywhere else if I can help it. And if you ever come after me or anyone I love again…”
She swallowed against the pain in her throat and looked up at Anson. He was angry and terrified—she saw it all in his eyes—but he held her with such tenderness. That was something Landry had never been capable of, even on his best day.
She looked back down at Landry. “You come after us again, I won’t stop him from killing you next time.”
“And nobody will ever find your body,” Ghost said, cold as the biting winter air.
She looked up at the line of men closing in around Landry.
River. Boone. Bear. Jax. Ghost. X. Jonah. Walker.
These men, who lived on the fringes of society with their violent pasts and broken pieces—they had become her family. Because she was Anson’s, she was now theirs. And they would do anything to protect their own.
Landry glared at her, hatred burning in his bloodshot eyes. But beneath the hatred, she saw something else—fear.
“You’re nothing without me,” he spat, but the words held a desperate edge.
“No, you got that backwards. I’m the one with a million-dollar contract on the table. You are nothing without me.” She turned away, burying her face against Anson’s chest. He held her tighter, his heartbeat strong and steady under her ear.
She was finally, truly free.
Landry couldn’t touch her anymore. Not her career. Not her body. Not her heart. Not her future. She’d found something real here—a place where people showed up for each other, where love wasn’t just words or ratings or control.
“I’ve got you,” Anson murmured, his breath warm against her hair as he carried her toward the bunkhouse. Bramble padded faithfully alongside them, refusing to leave her side. “You’re safe now.”
And for the first time in years, she believed it.