Chapter 25
Kassi
Itell myself it will be quick. In and out. Just grab the envelope with my final paycheck, sign whatever HR needs, and leave before anyone can look me in the eye long enough to make me feel small again.
But the second I pull into the lot, my hands go slick on the steering wheel. I cut the engine and sit for a full minute before I can force myself to move.
The glass doors give like they always do, cold air rushing out to meet me. The receptionist at the front desk looks up from her screen with a practiced smile that falters when she recognizes me. "Kassi. They said you'd be stopping by."
"Just picking up my check," I say.
She nods and opens a drawer. "HR's tied up in a meeting, but they left this for you." She slides a sealed envelope across the counter. My name sits neatly in block letters, too precise to be human. "Let me go see if HR is out of their meeting."
I could leave right now. I should. But I watch her head down the hall as a voice carries—familiar, low, sharp. My former boss. I freeze without meaning to.
The door to the conference room is cracked an inch. A sliver of fluorescent light spills across the carpet.
"You said the permits would clear by now," one voice says, clipped and annoyed.
"They don't need to clear," another replies. "The county's months behind. We drill the tests, get the data, and by the time they figure it out, we'll have leverage. The contracts are already set. We just need the numbers."
My heart starts to pound so hard it makes the floor seem to tilt.
The first voice again—my boss. "And Silver Cattle? We're still waiting on a way in?"
"They'll cave," the other man says. "The rancher's sitting on a goldmine. He doesn't even know it yet. We get the core samples we need from the neighboring plots and offer him a fraction of what it's worth. If he resists, we'll route through the mineral rights line. His hands will be tied."
Something slams down on the table. "You're sure about the ownership split?"
"Positive. We already have a legal path. We just need the testing data."
I grip the strap of my purse so tight the leather creaks.
They're talking about Asher.
Silver Cattle Ranch. The mineral rights. The "neighboring plots."
And they're not waiting for permits—they're drilling now. Illegally.
A chair scrapes. "If anyone asks questions?"
"We'll deny until it's too late to matter. That's the beauty of rural operations. By the time anyone gets loud, the lawyers will have the papers ready."
I can't breathe.
Every instinct in me says move. Run. But my body stays locked in place long enough for the sound of footsteps to hit the hallway.
I duck into the copy room. My pulse pounds so loudly I'm sure they'll hear it.
A shadow passes the doorway, then fades. I wait a full thirty seconds before moving again.
On the table by the copier, a stack of printouts catches my eye. Maps. Coordinates. Geological overlays. Each one is marked with a date and a label. McCafferty. Delaney. Silver Cattle—outlined in red.
Proof.
I grab the top few pages and fold them into my purse. My hands are shaking so badly they sound like thunder. Taking one last look toward the hall, I then walk fast, steady, not running until the door shuts behind me and I'm in my car.
The second the door locks, I lose it. Gripping the steering wheel, I try to breathe through the wave that crashes over me. Fear, anger, and panic.
They're going after him.
The man who's done nothing but protect that land. The man who looks at me like I'm something worth saving. I drive away from the building and pull into the park by the lake. Then I pull my phone from my bag and hit Asher's name before I can think better of it.
He answers on the second ring, voice warm and steady. "Hey, sweetheart."
I swallow hard. "Asher. You need to listen."
The tone in my voice changes him instantly. "What's wrong?"
"They're drilling." My voice cracks on the word. "They're doing it right now. No permits. No paperwork. They're using the neighboring ranches to test the soil for yours. I heard them talking, Asher. They have maps, and they think they can go around you."
"Where are you?"
"In my car. At the waterfront park parking lot."
"Stay there."
"No," I say. "I'm coming to you."
"Kassi, it's safer—"
I hang up before he can finish. My hands won't stop shaking as I start the engine. I don't even remember half of the drive.
By the time I turn down the gravel lane toward the ranch, my breath is ragged, and my vision blurs with tears I can't seem to blink away.
Asher steps off the porch before I've even come to a stop.
I slam the door and run straight for him, with the papers clutched in my hand like a lifeline.
He meets me halfway, catches me by the shoulders. "What happened?"
I shove the papers against his chest. "Proof. I have proof."
He looks down, flips through the first few pages, and his jaw tightens. "Where did you get these?"
"At the office. They were talking about Silver Cattle—about you. How they're planning to drill illegally. They already have rigs running. They think they can hit your land through the mineral line."
His eyes flash with something dark and hot. "You sure?"
"I heard it," I whisper. "They said the ranch name. I saw the maps. They—" My throat closes.
He's quiet for a long second, then he takes the papers from me, folds them once, and slides them into his back pocket as if he's afraid they might burn.
"Thank you for coming to me," he says, voice low.
"I had to," I say. "I couldn't just sit there and let them—"
He steps closer before I can finish, one hand coming up to cup the side of my face. His palm is rough and warm, steady where I'm shaking.
"You did exactly right," he says. "You did perfectly."
I try to hold it together, but the adrenaline catches up all at once, and the tears I've been holding back spill free. "They're going to ruin everything. I can't let that happen to you."
He pulls me into his chest, and the world falls quiet. I can feel his heartbeat under my ear, strong, steady. My fingers curl in the fabric of his shirt.
"I'm not losing this land," he says against my hair. "Not to them. Not to anyone."
I tilt my face up to him, and the air shifts between us. The heat that's always there when he looks at me flares—wild, unguarded. His thumb grazes my cheek, and the way his breath catches makes my stomach twist.
"Asher," I whisper.
He looks down at me, and for a moment, the rest of the world disappears.
The papers. The danger. The noise. It all fades until there's just the two of us standing in the dust and sunlight, too close to think straight.
Then he leans in. Close enough that I can feel the warmth of his breath on my skin. My body goes still, waiting.
It would be so easy to close the space between us. To let the fear burn into something that feels alive instead of terrifying.
But he stops himself first.
His hand slips from my cheek to my shoulder, the weight of it grounding me. His voice is rough when he speaks. "We can't do this now."
I nod, but the word still hangs heavy between us.
He steps back, dragging in a ragged breath. "Come inside. We'll make copies of what you've got."
"I don't want to put you in more danger," I say.
He shakes his head. "You already did the hard part. You told the truth. That's what matters."
I follow him into the house, my legs shaky, my throat raw. The scent of coffee and hay and sun-warmed wood wraps around me with familiarity. He spreads the papers on the kitchen table, eyes scanning every line.
"They've got survey marks along the east boundary," he mutters. "Same as where Cade saw the trucks. They're testing the depth on the runoff line. They think they can tie that into the mineral track."
He looks up, his expression tight. "This is enough for Ben to open a formal case. You just gave us the lever we needed."
Relief hits so hard it almost knocks me backward. "You can stop them?"
"We can slow them down," he says. "That's all we need for now."
Dropping into the chair across from him, I’m suddenly exhausted. "I didn't think they'd actually go through with it. I thought it was over."
He sets a hand on the table between us, palm up. I stare at it for a second before I slide mine into his. His fingers close around mine, callused and sure.
"You did everything right," he says quietly. "You just walked into the lion's den and came out with proof."
"I was terrified," I admit.
"So was I," he says. "Until you showed up."
For a second, neither of us breathes.
The moment stretches thin. His thumb moves over my knuckles, slow and deliberate, and it feels like my pulse is right there in his hand.
Then he exhales, letting go. The absence of his touch makes my hand cold again.
"I'll take these to Ben in the morning," he says, gathering the papers.
I help him stack the papers and tuck them into a folder. When we're done, he looks at me again, eyes dark, unreadable.
"I meant it," he says. "You did good, Kassi."
I nod, but my throat is too tight to speak.
He turns away first, busying himself with something at the counter, but I see the tension in his shoulders. He's holding everything in—fear, anger, the same pull that I can feel between us even when we're standing apart.
I sit there watching him, my heart still racing, the sound of his words still echoing in my chest.
We can't do this now.
I know he's right.
But the way he looked at me, the way his hand trembled before he let go, tells me that "now" isn't the same as "never."