66. Felicity
FELICITY
The ranch looked different when we returned.
Not safe.
Not familiar.
Haunted.
Sheriff vehicles still lined parts of the property from earlier investigations. Floodlights lit sections of fencing near the barn. Rainwater dripped steadily from the rooflines.
And everywhere I looked?—
memories waited.
My father teaching me to ride horses.
Summer nights on the porch.
The sound of laughter before everything turned into secrets and fear.
Hersh opened the truck door carefully beside me.
“You okay?”
No.
Not even a little.
But I nodded anyway.
The second my boots hit the ground, his hand slid quietly against my lower back.
Protective.
Steady.
Like he already knew this place was hurting me.
Wolf and Trigger spread out with the Rangers around the property while Rook’s remaining Shadow Division operators loaded into black SUVs near the gate.
Leaving.
A strange sadness hit me unexpectedly watching them go.
Rook stood beside the lead vehicle, dark eyes scanning the ranch one final time.
Dangerous.
Controlled.
Untouchable.
Then his gaze shifted toward me.
“Lock your doors,” he said simply.
I almost smiled slightly.
“Is that official Shadow Division advice?”
“No.” His mouth barely twitched. “That’s survival advice.”
Then he looked at Hersh.
The entire air changed between them instantly.
Warriors recognizing each other.
“You call if Shepherd resurfaces.”
“I won’t need to.”
Rook studied him for one long second.
Then nodded once.
Like he understood exactly what Hersh meant.
If Shepherd came back?—
he wasn’t leaving alive.
The SUVs disappeared down the long dirt road minutes later.
And suddenly the ranch felt quieter.
Smaller.
Just us now.
Wolf clapped his hands once loudly.
“Alright boys, let’s turn this creepy horror movie ranch into a fortress.”
Trigger snorted.
“That narrows it down none.”
For the first time in hours, a tiny laugh escaped me.
Hersh looked down at me instantly when he heard it.
The intensity in his eyes softened immediately.
That look?—
I was starting to understand it now.
Every time I smiled, it affected him.
Deeply.
Like after years of darkness, he couldn’t quite believe something good still existed.
And honestly?
That feeling went both ways.
He walked me toward the porch slowly while favoring his injured side no matter how much he tried hiding it.
“You’re hurting.”
“I’ve had worse.”
“That is not comforting.”
“I’m alive.”
His voice turned quieter then.
“Which seems important to you.”
I stopped walking.
So did he.
The porch light cast soft gold across the rain between us.
And suddenly all the fear and adrenaline from tonight felt too close to the surface again.
“You took a sniper bullet for me.”
His jaw flexed once.
“I’d do it again.”
Emotion hit so hard my eyes burned instantly.
“Hersh…”
“I mean it.”
He stepped closer carefully.
Close enough I could see exhaustion pulling at the edges of him now.
Close enough to smell rain and smoke and blood and him.
“You don’t understand something yet, sweetheart.”
My heart stumbled at that word.
“What?”
His eyes locked onto mine.
“If Shepherd touches you…” His voice lowered dangerously. “I become something very hard to stop.”
The raw honesty in that statement stole my breath.
Not a threat.
A promise.
And somehow that should’ve terrified me.
Instead—
it made me feel safe.
Completely safe.
A crack of thunder rolled across the mountains.
Neither of us moved.
Neither of us looked away.
Then slowly?—
carefully—
his hand lifted toward my face again.
Like he wanted to touch me but wasn’t fully sure he deserved to.
That nearly broke my heart all by itself.
I closed the distance first.
His breath caught instantly when my forehead rested lightly against his chest.
For one second?—
just one?—
everything became still.
No Hollow Men.
No Shepherd.
No secrets.
Just his heartbeat beneath my cheek.
And his arms slowly wrapping around me like letting go would kill him.