Page 125 of Buck ’Em Cowgirl

I couldn’t fucking move my hand.

The bullfighters were running, I could hear them yelling, but I couldn’t look away from the ground, from the dust swirling in my vision. I sucked in a breath, forcing myself to move, to get the hell out of the way.

I looked up.

Instead of the glare of the arena lights, all I saw was the bottom of a massive hoof—coming straight for me.

And then⁠—

Nothing.

46

Fable

No. No, no, no, no.

Everything happened so fucking fast.

One second, I was right there with him, watching through my camera as he settled onto the bull, his body a perfect balance of tension and control. His thick thighs clenched around the animal, his arm lifted high as the chute burst open.

The next—he was gone.

Bucked off.

It wasn’t the first time I’d seen him take a fall. I’d watched him train, seen countless rides in my research end in the dirt. My breath caught, my fingers digging into the steel railing in front of me, but my heart was still beating steadily.

Until he didn’t move.

My grip on the camera slipped. My body locked up. My eyes didn’t blink, couldn’t blink, as I stared at him, motionless in the dirt.

Get up. Get up and move, you stubborn ass.

The bullfighters rushed in, waving their hands, trying to get the bull’s attention. My pulse pounded, too fucking loud in my ears.

The bull reared up, powerful hind legs kicking at nothing before its massive hooves came down.

One of them⁠—

Oh, God.

One of them landed square on his helmet.

A sickening crack rang through the air.

The entire crowd gasped as if the arena had lost all its oxygen in a single breath.

I couldn’t breathe.

The sound, the weight, the sheer force of it.

His body jerked from the impact, but he still didn’t move.

He wasn’t moving.

He wasn’t fucking moving.

The buzzing in my ears grew louder. Everything blurred. The bright lights, the medics sprinting toward him, the bullfighters waving the animal off—it was too slow.