2. Boyd
TWO
BOYD
I don’t speak. There’s no need. The men already know something’s wrong.
The floodlights sweep across the compound as the gate swings open.
Silas steps out first, rifle lowered but ready.
Rafe is right behind him. Wyatt and the others fan out without a word, scanning the tree line behind me.
They see the blood on my shirt, the way I’m carrying her, and they move into formation like we’ve done a hundred times before.
“Eli,” Silas calls, voice low and calm. “We have an injured woman. Bring your kit to the lodge.”
I keep walking. The lodge door opens before I reach it.
Warm light spills out. Harper stands in the doorway, eyes wide when she sees me.
She steps aside without asking questions.
I carry the woman straight to the long table in the main room and lay her down as gently as I can.
Her clothes are soaked and torn. Blood streaks her face from a cut on her forehead.
One leg is twisted at a bad angle. Her left arm is swollen and purple already. She doesn’t stir.
Eli’s there in seconds, black medical bag in hand. He sets it down and starts working fast but careful. He checks her pulse, shines a light in her eyes, runs his hands over her limbs. I stand back a few feet, arms crossed, watching every move he makes. My rifle is still slung over my shoulder.
“She’s unconscious,” Eli says after a minute.
His voice is steady, professional. “Concussion for sure. Possible broken tibia. Ribs are cracked on the left side. Deep lacerations on her arms and hands from the glass. She lost a lot of blood, but the bleeding has slowed. I can work to set her broken leg. I’ll need to get X-rays, and other tests to make sure she doesn’t have any internal bleeding.
No fever is a good sign. She needs rest. Real rest. No noise, no movement, no questions.
Uninterrupted silence for at least the next twenty-four hours if we can manage it. ”
The lodge is never truly quiet. People come and go all day. Kids cry. Doors slam. Voices carry. I know what has to happen.
“My cabin,” I say. My voice comes out low and flat. “It’s the farthest from the main path. Quiet. I’ll take her there.”
No one argues. Harper glances at me, then at the unconscious woman on the table. “Who is she?”
I shake my head once. “Don’t know yet. No ID. Found her car off the road about two miles down the east ridge. It went over the edge. Looked deliberate. Someone rammed her from behind.”
Fiona steps closer, arms folded tight across her chest. “I’ll check socials tonight. Missing persons posts, local news, anything that matches her description. Dark hair, mid-twenties, about five six. I’ll start with Colorado and work outward.”
Silas nods. “I’ll run her prints if we can get them clean enough and check official missing reports. We’ll keep it quiet until we know more. Last thing we need is whoever did this realizing she made it here.”
Rafe claps me on the shoulder once. “You got this?”
I nod. That’s all.
Eli finishes wrapping her leg in a temporary splint and gives her a shot for the pain. “I’ll run a few tests and then I’ll come check on her every couple of hours. Keep her warm. Fluids if she wakes. No moving her more than necessary.”
I stand guard as Eli gets the portable imaging equipment he needs to run his tests.
Once he says she’s all good to be moved I wrap her in a thick blanket Harper hands me, then lift her again.
She doesn’t wake. Her head lolls against my shoulder.
I carry her out into the night air. The rain’s stopped.
I head down the dark path toward my cabin at the far edge of the compound.
The others stay behind to handle the questions and the cleanup.
That’s fine with me. I work better alone.
My cabin is small and simple. One bedroom, one bath, open living area with a stone fireplace.
I kick the door open and carry her straight to the bed.
The navy quilt is already turned down from when I left this morning.
I lay her down carefully, then peel off her wet, bloody clothes.
I keep it clinical. Just enough to get her dry and warm.
She has bruises blooming across her ribs and hip.
A nasty gash on her thigh that Eli already stitched.
I cover her with fresh blankets and tuck the quilt around her.
She looks small in my bed. Fragile. But there’s something stubborn in the set of her jaw even while she’s unconscious. I like that.
I pull the armchair from the corner and drag it close to the side of the bed.
Then I sit. My rifle leans against the wall within easy reach.
I watch her breathe. In and out. Slow. Steady.
The rain taps against the roof. The fire I built earlier is still going strong. I add another log and settle back in.
Eli comes by an hour later. He checks her vitals, changes the bandage on her forehead, and hooks her up to an IV. “She’s stable. Keep it quiet. I’ll be back at dawn.”
I don’t answer. He knows I will.
The night stretches on. I stay in the chair, eyes on her the whole time.
Every small shift she makes, every change in her breathing, I notice.
My mind runs through the details of the wreck.
The angle of the tire marks I saw before I climbed down.
The way the second vehicle had most likely accelerated instead of braking.
This was no accident. Someone wanted her dead.
I’ll find out who.
But right now my only job is keeping her alive and keeping her safe. That means no noise, no visitors, no questions until she’s strong enough to answer them.
Around three in the morning she stirs. A soft groan slips out. Her eyelids flutter but don’t open. I lean forward and rest a hand lightly on her good arm.
“Easy,” I murmur. “You’re safe. Rest.”
She settles again. I stay right where I am.
By the time the sky starts to lighten outside the window, the rain has finally stopped. Eli returns as promised. He checks her again, listens to her lungs, feels her pulse.
“She’s doing better than I expected,” he says quietly. “But she’s going to be in a lot of pain when she wakes. Broken leg will need a real cast. Ribs are going to hurt for weeks. She’s going to need help with everything for a while.”
I nod. “She’ll get it.”
Eli glances at me, then at the woman in my bed. He doesn’t say anything else. He knows me well enough not to push.
After he leaves I make coffee in the small kitchen and stand at the window, looking out over the compound.
The gate is already being repaired from being broken when Magnus and his men tried to come after Sadie.
Thorne had rescued Sadie and vowed to protect her at all costs, which meant she was one of us now. And we did that. We protected her.
Rhett and Wyatt are out there with tools. Life at Haven 7 keeps moving, but my cabin stays quiet. That’s the way I want it.
I bring a mug of water to the bedside table in case she wakes thirsty. Then I sit back down in the chair. She hasn’t moved much, but her color looks a little better. The cuts on her face have been cleaned. The bruises stand out dark against her pale skin.
I don’t know her name yet. I don’t know why someone tried to kill her. But I know one thing for certain.
Whoever did this will not get another chance.
I lean back, rifle close, and keep watch. The mountain’s quiet outside. Inside, the only sound is her steady breathing and the soft crackle of the fire.
This is my cabin. My space. And now it’s hers too, for as long as she needs it.
I’ll make sure she gets every second of the rest Eli ordered.
And when she finally wakes up, I’ll be right here.
Ready to keep her safe.
No matter what it takes.
The sun rises higher. I don’t move from the chair. I watch her sleep and let the silence wrap around us both like armor.
She’s safe.
That’s all that matters right now.