Heather walking down the side of the gravel road, covered in blood from head to toe, was not a sight I expected to see. I almost hit the brakes, thinking she was an apparition, then hit the gas pedal.

Richter was going to die.

I didn’t care the consequences. He was going to hurt, over and over again, before he fell six feet under.

“Holy shit!” Brandon exclaimed before a hush came over the vehicle.

We were one of eight trucks, all full, all ready to battle. And yes, I’d brought her brother to a crew fight.

As we got closer, Heather came into focus. She was covered in so much—I saw fresh blood, dried blood. Dirt. Mud. She looked like something coming out of the swamp.

I slammed to a stop a few yards away from her. I didn’t want more dirt to spew at her, and I didn’t trust myself to go slowly, so I parked and was out the door the next instant.

I felt Brandon hot on my heels, and I was ready to tear him up if he grabbed her too roughly.

She limped toward us, her clothes torn and her jean jacket hanging from her hand, dragging on the ground behind her.

As we got to her, we both reined ourselves in, but she kept limping forward. One hop, a half drag, a second hop, the other foot behind her, the jacket last. There was a glaze in her eyes, but I saw fire underneath, and I could’ve pissed myself in relief.

She was fine.

I knew it.

She was furious. She was hurting, but she had the same fire she’d had before. If anything, it was rooted even deeper, and as she met my gaze, her top lip curved up.

She stopped, her eyes boring into mine, and she said, “I am going to take a hammer to Richter’s knees. Both of them. One at a time. I’m going to knock them out. Then I’m going to take the hammer to his dick. After that, I’ll start knocking out pieces of his limbs. His elbows. His throat. His fingers. His toes. I’ll rip off his balls last and make him eat them. He’ll throw them up, and I’ll make him swallow them all over again.”

Her fire wasn’t stamped down. It was a full blaze, and it was simmering over.

She dropped her jean jacket to the ground. “I am going to kill him. Slowly. With as much torture as possible, and I’m going to enjoy every goddamn second I hear his screams.”

Brandon moved back a step. He coughed out. “Well, then…”

Oh yeah. Heather was just fine.

I began nodding, slowly, and edged closer to her. “Other than that, are you okay?”

She didn’t answer, just stared at me.

She was an animal right now. Feral. Dangerous.

I wasn’t the only one sensing it. Brandon grew quiet, letting me take over. The others got out of their vehicles. The doors slammed shut, but as they got to us, an eerie hush came over them. They stopped short, and soon, we could hear a bird calling from a mile away.

No one said a word. We were waiting for Heather.

“Heather?” Concern crept up in me. I wanted to touch her, but not if it was going to hurt her. Still, I couldn’t help myself. I reached up and touched her elbow, just gently.

At my touch, she seemed to dissolve.

Her head fell down. She choked out, “Channing.”

She crumbled.

I caught her. “Whoa. Whoa.”

That’s when she began to sob.

It sounded like it was coming from her gut. She balled my shirt into her fist, pressing her forehead to my chest. “Channing.” It was a whisper this time.

I smoothed a hand over her hair and carried her away from the group.

Heather had cried six times in her life—three of them over Naly. This was her seventh. She wouldn’t want the others to see her like this, beaten and exposed.

Once we were away from everyone, where they couldn’t hear, I found a spot on the road and sat. I cradled her in my lap. I rocked her like a baby.

She cried. Her sobs wracked her entire body until they finally grew quiet, but even then her tears were a steady trickle.

I banked down the murderous rage in me. It would come out again, but not until Heather was okay. She was my job now. I had to make sure she was okay, and as she quieted, I began checking her over for wounds.

She’d been hit on the head. Bad. The lump was the size of my hand.

I could see the scrapes over her body. Scratches. Thin cuts. Glancing at where she’d come from, I realized they might’ve been from the branches.

I winced inside, knowing how fast she must’ve been going to get cut this deep.

Shit.

She’d said she was in a tree. We’d been bringing stuff to help her get out, and I couldn’t stop looking over her. Had she fallen out? Where was Richter?

Why did this happen? Check that. I knew why.

How could I make sure this never happened again?

Leave? Fuck. I stopped myself. I wasn’t going to think that far ahead. Take care of Heather. That was first.

So I just held her. I would hold her forever.

Maybe it was a few minutes later, maybe twenty, maybe an hour. I wasn’t paying attention, but it felt like a good amount of time before I heard someone walking toward us. There was a soft crunch of gravel, and Heather stiffened. She had fallen silent in my arms, but she didn’t move an inch. I wasn’t going to make her move either, but we both looked.

Heather sat up, but I didn’t let her go too far. I put my knees up, my feet on the ground, and I tugged her so her back rested against me. Her head moved to my chest. The person paused behind us, but I didn’t want Heather twisting around, so I motioned.

“Come in front.”

Brandon came around, kneeling and approaching delicately.

There was a rapt and stark emotion burning bright in his eyes. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he was trying not to cry.

His voice broke under the strain. “Heather.”

Heather stiffened further. Her arm shook until I rested mine on top, still cautious of her cuts. She expelled a breath, some of her tension leaving.

Brandon stopped, swallowed, and looked down. When he lifted his head, he was more controlled. He pressed his lips together, swallowing again. “Heather, are you okay?”

Heather held her hand out.

Brandon took it, and her fingers linked around his.

“I want to kill someone,” she rasped. “Is that answer enough?”

Relief flooded him. He closed his eyes, sitting back on his heels. “Hell yes. That answers me.” He tried to smile, but he was still pale. “We should get you to a hospital.”

“I know.”

But Heather didn’t move. If anything, she sank farther into me.

Brandon got back to his feet. “Maybe you could just carry her, Channing?”

I nodded. “Yeah.” My own throat was full. I hadn’t expected that. “Can you give us a minute?”

“Oh. Sure.” He smiled at Heather tenderly. “Love you, sis.”

Heather didn’t respond. She just returned the smile as Brandon moved behind us.

Once it was the two of us again, a sniffle left her.

I didn’t know what was going on behind us.

It didn’t matter.

I had the woman I loved in my arms. She was safe. She was hurting. And I could never let that happen again. That’s all. My arms tightened around her. I never wanted to let her go.

I took another minute—we both did. Then I asked, “Are you ready?”

“No.” She sighed, her finger tracing up and down under mine.

She said no, but I felt the acceptance in her body. She loosened, and I knew what she needed. Moving her in my arms to cradle her once again, I stood, careful not to hurt her with any sudden motion. As I straightened up, she closed her eyes, her head resting against my chest.

Something shifted deep inside me.

I couldn’t leave her. Ever.

The realization blared hard and loud, and our lives together flashed in front of my eyes.

As I proposed to her.

As I married her.

As we had our first kid.

Our second kid.

Our ninth kid, if she wanted.

We’d move into a bigger house.

Bren would get married, and Heather would be at my side.

All the holidays together, birthdays together. The future fights we’d have.

All the love making.

As we got old.

As we joined her dad’s retirement RV caravan or made our own. As we moved to Florida and made all our friends come with us—the ones still alive.

As one of us moved into a nursing home.

And as one of us left this world, but even then, I would watch over her as she got older and started hooking up with some other old dude.

Always and forever. The words were in wedding vows for a reason.

All of that flashed before my eyes, and as I began carrying her back to the vehicle, I knew two things.

I was going to marry her.

And I was going to be the first of us to die, but not for a long time—a really long time.