Harper
Luke grabs his rifle and moves to the door. “You’ve got your comm?”
I touch my ear. “Yeah.”
"Good. Stay behind me. Do not engage unless you have a clear shot. Conserve your ammunition. Understood?"
"Understood."
He takes my chin, kisses me hard, and then leads me out of our suite.
We move through the house, down the hallway. The main house is chaos—Jake and Mason are already in the living room, weapons drawn. Emma is crouched behind a turned over cabinet, her face pale but determined. Lily is with her, holding a shotgun, a knife strapped to her thigh.
"South perimeter is breached," Jake says through the comms. "Mason, take the east side. Luke, with me in the kitchen. Harper, stay here with Emma and Lily."
I shake my head. "I'm not leav—"
"Stay with them," Jake snaps, his voice leaving no room for argument.
I grit my teeth but nod.
Luke gives me one last look—intense and protective—and then he's gone, moving toward the front of the house with Jake and Mason.
The gunfire is constant now—a war zone.
I crouch beside Emma and Lily, my weapon drawn, my heart pounding so hard I can barely hear anything else.
"What's happening?" Emma asks, her voice shaking.
"Turner's attacking the ranch.” I squeeze her arm reassuringly. “Breathe slowly. Keep junior calm, okay? We’re going to be fine.”
"I should have sold him the Circle H.” Emma shakes her head. “I’m so sorry.”
“No,” Lily says ruthlessly, looking Emma in the eye. “You do not apologize. This isn’t your fault.”
“Yeah,” I agree, peeking out from behind the cabinet. “He’s a big bully. I’ve got ten on Luke making him cry before the night is out.”
“I’m betting on Mason,” Lily chimes in loyally. “He has a bigger gun.”
I snort.
Another burst of gunfire, this time from inside the house.
Luke's voice comes over the comms, clear and calm. "Three hostiles down. More coming from the north."
"Copy," Jake responds. "Mason, status?"
"East side secure. Two hostiles neutralized."
I hear Mandy's voice, cold and detached. "Good morning, boys. Miss me?”
“Well, shit,” Luke drawls. “I thought you were going to miss the party.”
“Nothing would make me miss this.” A couple shots sound. “South perimeter clear. Moving to reinforce the front."
“Hendricks?” Jake asks.
“Out there somewhere,” is all she says.
The fight rages for what feels like hours but is probably only minutes. My legs start to tingle from not moving, but I’m not leaving my post guarding Emma and Lily.
Then suddenly I realize the gunfire’s stopped.
A lull.
Silence.
It's worse than the noise.
"Jake?" Emma whispers, shifting behind me.
"I don't know," I say, my weapon trained on the doorway.
Mason’s voice crackles over the comms. "We have a problem. More vehicles incoming. At least six. They're regrouping for another push."
"Fuck," Jake mutters. "How many shooters?"
"Too many," Mason says grimly.
I stand, my decision made. "I'm going out there."
"Harper, no." Lily grabs my arm.
"I'm a cop." I look her in the eye. "I know how to handle myself, and they need backup. Can you hold it down here?"
Lily nods. “I have Emma.”
Nodding, I move before anyone can stop me, slipping out of the living room and into the hallway.
The front of the house is a disaster—shattered windows, bullet holes in the walls, spent casings littering the floor.
Luke is crouched in the kitchen, his rifle trained out a window. Jake is at the back door, scanning the driveway. I don’t know where Mason is.
"Harper, what the hell—" Luke starts.
"I'm helping," I say, taking position beside him. "Deal with it."
He looks like he wants to argue, but another burst of gunfire cuts him off.
The second wave hits hard with more shooters that are better coordinated. Turner's men pour onto the property, using the vehicles as cover, advancing in tactical formation.
We return fire, the sound deafening in the enclosed space. I realize really quickly why they posted in the kitchen. The invaders head straight to the front door, and from here we have the advantage of a clear shot from an angle they aren’t expecting.
I take down one shooter. Then another. My training kicks in—breathe, aim, squeeze. Breathe, aim, squeeze.
But there are too many of them.
"We need to fall back," Jake shouts over the gunfire. "Regroup at the barn."
"Negative," Luke snaps. "We hold the house. If we lose it, we lose everything."
"Luke—"
A truck skids to a stop near the main house, tires screeching.
I expect more of Turner's men, but the door opens, and my dad steps out, in full uniform, service weapon drawn.
"Dad?" I breathe, but the word is lost in the chaos. What the hell is he doing here? He wouldn’t attack us, would he?
Luke's head snaps toward me. "What?"
Dad moves toward the house, firing at Turner's men from behind.
"What the fuck is the sheriff doing here?" Mason says through the comms.
“I don’t know,” I say, kneeling in the window and shooting, hoping to distract the bad guys.
“Fuck.” Luke starts shooting to give my dad cover too.
My father reaches the porch and I see him duck inside. A moment later he bursts into the kitchen.
His eyes scan the room, and he exhales when he sees me. "Harper."
"What are you doing here?" I demand.
"Helping.” Dad moves to the window beside Jake, taking position like he's done this a thousand times.
Maybe he has.
"South side," Dad says calmly. "Three shooters moving toward the barn."
Jake nods, relaying the information to Mason.
My father fires, taking down one of the shooters.
I stare at him, my mind reeling. This is the man who protected Turner. Who buried evidence and chose fear over justice. And now he's here, fighting beside us.
"Harper, focus!" Luke orders, snapping me back to reality.
I shake my head and return fire. I stay locked, forcing my mind blank to get the job done.
I'm reloading when I hear Luke shout my name.
"Harper, get down!"
I drop instinctively, and a bullet slams into the wall where my head was a second ago. The magazine in my hand skitters across the floor, spinning to a stop three feet away.
I roll and come up against the other wall, my heart pounding.
"You okay?" Luke asks, his voice tight.
"Yeah." I nod even though I’m shaky. "I'm okay."
My hands shake as I look at the magazine. It’s in the open, near the bullet-ridden door.
But it’s my last one, and I need it. I pause, trying to push away my nerves so I can function. They need me. I need to make sure nothing happens to anyone.
Taking a deep breath, I start crawling toward it, keeping my head down.
“Harper!”
Luke’s voice is loud in my ear, but I ignore it and reach for the magazine. I almost have it.
Suddenly my dad’s leaping on me, slamming me to the floor. I wince as his full weight falls on me and his body jerks.
The ping of shots hit around us—three, four, five.
My father jerks again on top of me, and I gasp as I realize he’s hit. “Dad!”
A hand grabs my clothing and pulls me back. I look back as Luke reaches and grabs my dad and drags him to a more protected position.
I'm moving before I can think, crawling to Dad. I reach him, looking to see where he’s hit. I don’t see any bullet holes on his torso, but there’s blood pooling under him.
Too much blood.
"Dad, no, no, no—" My hands shake as I try to roll him over to look. He’s heavy, dead weight, and I can’t budge him. “Can you move, Dad?”
His eyes open, and he looks up at me. There's no fear in his gaze, no regret—just peace. "Sorry, Harper. I did it for you."
He starts to cough, and blood wells up out of his mouth.
Shit, shit, shit. I need to put pressure on his wounds. I try to push him over again. “Dad, you're going to be okay. You're going to be fine."
He reaches up with a shaking hand and touches my face, his fingers leaving a smear of blood on my cheek. "Love you, Harper. Always have. I just made the wrong choices. Too many wrong choices."
"You're going to be okay," I say again, willing him to believe it. "Just hold on. Please, Dad, just hold on."
He manages a small, sad smile. "No, I'm not. But I'm okay with that. Because I finally did something right."
"Dad—"
"Proud of you." His voice grows faint. "So proud. You're everything I should have been. Everything I wasn't."
"Don't," I beg, my hands still pressed uselessly against his chest. "Please, Dad."
"Love you, Harper," he whispers again.
His eyes close, and his hand falls away from my face.