Chapter 42 #2
Hunter's already on his phone. The guys are regrouping near the doors.
But the energy in the room has shifted into something cold.
The ranchers are chatting, moving on to the next lot.
But the Greeks haven't moved. They're standing on the far side of the arena in a tight cluster, and the body language tells me everything… they’re about to start trouble.
"Let's go," Hunter says, slapping my shoulder guiding me out. "Colt, sign the paperwork. We'll have the trailer brought around back. Ace, you're with me."
We move toward the exit. Paulie and Xander fall in. Jett appears from somewhere with Tate beside him.
We're ten feet from the main doors when Holloway's voice carries across the floor.
"Hey, Ace."
I stop. Hunter keeps walking for two more steps, then stops.
“Ace.” Hunter warns me under his breath.
Holloway is leaning against the rail with his arms crossed, his guys fanned out behind him. "Congratulations on the horse," he says, too loud. "Hell of a buy."
Hunter turns slowly. "Appreciate it."
"You know, it's funny." Holloway pushes off the rail and takes a step forward. "Your family keeps buying up the best stock in the state. Horses. Land. Businesses." He tilts his head. Looks directly at me. "Women."
My blood goes cold. If he even dares mention her name…
"That little blonde thing you've been parading around," he says. "Harper, right? Real pretty. Quite nosey though."
The room goes dead quiet, blood pounds in my ears.
"You might've got the horse, Sterling." He grins, showing his missing front tooth. "But I reckon she's worth stealing. I bet her pussy is tight and she needs a real man's dick to ruin—"
I don't remember deciding to move.
One second, I'm standing beside Hunter. The next I'm crossing the floor with my fist already cocked, and the distance between me and Holloway closes so fast he doesn't get his hands up before my knuckles connect with his jaw.
The crack echoes off the walls.
He staggers. One of his guys lunges for me, and Jett comes from my left like a freight train, shoulder-checking him into the rail.
The Greek behind Holloway reaches into his jacket, and Paulie is on him before his hand clears the fabric, twisting his arm behind his back and slamming him face-first into the concrete.
It erupts.
The whole floor goes up at once. Ranch 42 swinging, the Greeks trying to coordinate in a more organized way that won’t work here, and the Sterlings doing what we've always done. Hitting first. Hitting harder. Hitting until the other side stops getting up.
I'm on Holloway. He catches me with a right hook that splits my eyebrow open, and I taste copper, but I don't stop. I drive him backward into the railing, pin him with my forearm across his throat, and hit him again. And again.
"Say her name one more time," I spit. "Go ahead. Say it."
He swings wild. I slip it and bury my fist in his ribs, making him fold.
To my right, Colten has come out of nowhere and is systematically dismantling one of the Ranch 42 guys with calm efficiency.
Tate has a Greek in a headlock against the wall.
Jett is trading blows with two Ranch 42 boys at once and laughing about it, because Jett is a lunatic who treats violence like cardio.
Xander hasn't said a word. He doesn't need to. He picks up one of the Greeks by the shirt front and throws him into a stack of folding chairs so hard the crash sounds like a car accident.
But it's Hunter who ends it.
He hasn't thrown a single punch. He's been standing by the exit the whole time, phone to his ear, watching the chaos. Because no one is going to touch Hunter Sterling and live. They know that rule.
The main doors swing open. Twenty of our guys walk in. Ranch hands, security, the men who work the far fences and don't come to town unless they're called. They fill the doorway shoulder to shoulder, and the sight of them stops every fight in the room like someone pulled the plug.
Hunter pockets his phone. Steps forward. The floor goes silent except for heavy breathing and the groan of men who've just discovered what happens when you pick a fight with the wrong family.
He walks through the wreckage. Past Jett, who's grinning with a split lip and somebody else's blood on his shirt. He stops in front of Holloway, who I've got pinned against the rail with my forearm still on his throat.
Hunter looks dead at him.
"You tell Carson something for me," Hunter says, voice low enough that Holloway has to strain to hear it.
"Tell him the next time one of his boys opens their mouth about my family, it won’t be punches being thrown.
" He leans closer. "I'll come for him myself. He can’t hide from me for long. And then I’ll burn down his whole ranch and shoot each one of you motherfuckers between the eyes. One by one. Making sure Carson is last so he can see what he’s done by letting the Greeks in. "
He straightens up and adjusts his hat. Nods at me.
I release Holloway. He slides down the railing and hits the floor, holding his ribs.
Hunter turns to the room. The ranchers who haven't fled are pressed against the far walls, wide-eyed, clutching their auction catalogs like shields. The auctioneer is hiding behind his podium.
"Apologies for the disruption, folks," Hunter says. "Enjoy the rest of the sale."
He walks out. We follow.
Every single one of us. Colten with his paperwork tucked under his arm. Jett still grinning. Tate quiet as a shadow. Me with blood running down my face and Harper's name still ringing in my ears.
The twenty men part at the doors and close ranks behind us as we walk into the sunlight. Trucks and trailers lined up in the lot. Our guys everywhere. A wall of Sterling men between us and whatever's left inside that building.
Hunter stops at his truck and looks at me.
"Get that eyebrow cleaned up before you see Harper. She'll lose her mind."
I wipe the blood with my sleeve. "Worth it."
"Yeah." He almost smiles. "It was. I think we proved our point."
Colten appears beside us.
"Trailer's out back. Sovereign's Gold loads in thirty." He looks at the blood on my face. "You good?"
"I'm perfect."
"Good. I thought I told you to take this seriously?" Colt says with a grin.
Jett is wiping the sweat from his forehead as he approaches. “Nice cut,” he says to me.
Then his eyes light up. “We’re training later,” he tells me.
“I think a fight at an auction was good enough for today.”
He shakes his head. “No. No. No. This is social media gold. Bull rider, split face, bruised knuckles, doing push-ups in the dirt.”
I laugh. It hurts my ribs. That just makes me laugh harder.
“Jett,” I warn.
We came here to buy a horse. We're leaving with the horse, a message delivered, and the entire county knowing that the Sterlings don't bluff, don't back down, and don't let a goddamn soul disrespect what's ours.
That includes Harper.
That will always include Harper.