Chapter 5 Trigger
Trigger
We moved fast.
Havoc checked the upstairs. Ace checked the windows. Beast locked the side door and killed the lights in the back stairwell. Saint got the patrons out through the kitchen and into the alley, as if it were part of the show.
No panic.
No screaming.
Just Rangers doing what we did.
Rylie sat on the edge of the bed in one of the upstairs bedrooms, like she’d been dropped into someone else’s life. Her dress was bunched in her lap. Her bare feet were red and scraped.
I crouched, taking a clean cloth from the bathroom.
“Let me,” I said.
She flinched when I touched her ankle.
Not because it hurt.
Because she wasn’t used to being cared for. Her mother died when she was little, and it's just Riley and her dad, Sheriff Tate.
It made rage bloom in my chest, thinking about her all alone with no woman to talk to.
I wrapped her foot carefully. “You should’ve called me.”
Her laugh was thin. “How? He took my phone whenever he wanted. He… watches everything. Plus, you’ve been out of town.”
I kept my head down, my voice steady. “Then you should’ve told your dad.”
“I tried,” she whispered. “Thomas is smart. He made it look like I was stressed. Like I was… unstable. My Dad was so excited that I was getting married, he believed him.
I froze.
Slowly, I lifted my gaze.
“What did he say?”
Her lips trembled. “That I was overwhelmed. That I was having panic attacks. That I needed him to take care of me.”
Saint was in the doorway, arms crossed. “That’s a control tactic.”
“I know,” she said quickly, defensive, like she had to prove she wasn’t weak. “I know what it is. I prosecute men like him.”
That snapped something in me—admiration, anger, and heartbreak all at once.
I finished wrapping her foot and stood, turning toward the window.
Outside, the street was too quiet.
Too still.
Havoc appeared at my shoulder. “Suit’s still out there.”
“Good,” I muttered.
Havoc’s brow lifted. “Good?”
“I want to see what he does next.”
Saint exhaled. “Trigger.”
“What?” I shot back, then forced my voice down. Rylie didn’t need to hear my temper. “He thinks he owns her. He won’t leave.”
I glanced at Rylie.
She was watching me like she was afraid of what I’d do.
That pissed me off too.
Not at her.
At him.
Because he’d scared her so bad, she was afraid to do anything.
I turned back to Havoc. “Get eyes on the SUV. Plate? Make?”
“None. Blacked out windows. Two more men inside.”
My pulse spiked.
So he came prepared.
“Saint,” I said. “Call the Sheriff. Tell him we need him at the tavern. Quiet. No sirens.”
Saint nodded, already dialing. “I’m sure he’ll show up here anyway, since you ran away from your wedding.”
Rylie’s voice cracked. “My dad can’t—”
I crossed the room and crouched in front of her again, forcing her to meet my eyes.
“Your dad is the Sheriff,” I said firmly. “He doesn’t get to be kept in the dark.”
She swallowed. “If Thomas realizes I told him—”
“He already realizes,” I said, softening. “You ran.”
Her breath shuddered.
I reached out—slowly—so she could pull away if she wanted.
She didn’t.
My thumb brushed the back of her hand.
“You did the right thing,” I told her. “He can’t force you to marry him.”
The door downstairs creaked.
Every Ranger in the apartment went still.
Beast’s voice drifted up from the stairs. “We got company.”
Havoc’s hand went to his weapon.
Saint’s eyes narrowed.
Rylie’s face went white.
I stood and moved between her and the door.
“Stay behind me,” I ordered.
Her voice trembled. “Trigger—don’t—”
I didn’t look back.
Because if I looked at her, I might promise something I couldn’t guarantee.
I listened to the footsteps on the front porch.
Measured.
Confident.
A man who believed the world belonged to him.
Thomas Thorn’s voice floated up, smooth as sin.
“Rylie,” he called. “Sweetheart. Come on. Let’s not do this. Everyone is still at the church waiting.”
My blood went ice cold.
I stepped to the top of the stairs.
And smiled.
“Wrong door,” I said.