Page 180 of Ironwood Ranch Cowboys

My jaw tightens hard enough to ache. Because suddenly the shape of the threat changes again. I realize something that makes my blood run genuinely cold.

Whoever’s targeting this ranch may already know exactly how close we are to finding them.

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

Annie

Bedlam has a sound.

It isn’t screaming, exactly.

It’s the violent metallic clang of something hitting fencing at full force. The sharp, panicked whinny of a horse. Boots pounding across gravel before the sun is even fully up. Radios crackling over each other. Men shouting names.

My eyes snap open before my brain catches up, pulse already sprinting. For one disoriented second, all I know is darkness and adrenaline and the fact that something is wrong.

Another shout tears through the morning.

“Horses out near the east paddock!”

I’m out of bed before I think about it, yanking a hoodie over my tank top, feet shoved into boots without socks because apparently basic human functions no longer matter at Ironwood Ranch.

The hallway outside my room is a blur of movement. Ranch hands rush past, doors open, radios hiss.

Duke nearly collides with me at the corner.

His hair is a mess. His jaw rough with stubble. Hazel eyes wide in a way I’ve never seen before.

“Stay inside,” he says.

Which tells me this is serious faster than anything else could.

“What happened?”

“One of the gates was left open.”

Ice slides down my spine.

“No,” I breathe.

“Yeah.” His voice is tight. Too controlled. “Couple horses got spooked. Benji and the others are trying to round them up now.”

A crash sounds outside somewhere distant.

Duke flinches.

Duke.

The man who treats madness as a personality trait.

Fear curls cold in my stomach.

“I’m coming with you.”

“Annie—”

“I want to help.”

His jaw flexes hard enough to cut glass, but he grabs my wrist anyway, tugging me down the hall with him.