More shouts carried through the forest, the loudest of which was Colt’s beautiful deep voice, though not as smooth as usual. He sounded like he was yelling through a mouthful of gravel. Bodies crashed through the tangle of underbrush on the forest floor, getting closer. His heart boomed like a cannon gun in his chest.
Then like something out of a movie, Colt appeared out of the shaded forest and into a ray of sunshine. The most beautiful sight Mason had ever laid eyes on. He staggered to a stop. A rapid fire of emotions flashed over Colt’s face—shock, anger, fear, relief . . . love—while his chest heaved from exertion.
Colt was here. Colt found him. He was safe.
Levi appeared out of the woods on horseback, and Colt charged forward.
Mason registered three things at the same time: Colt fell to his knees at Mason’s side and reached for the duct tape over his mouth; voices echoed all around them, shouts, orders; and then Gus appeared a few feet away from Levi, with a rifle in hand, aimed at Colt.
Mason’s breath caught, trapped somewhere between his lungs and the base of his throat. His heart stopped beating for a second. Ice flooded his veins.
No, no, no.
He shook his head as he struggled in his binds, shot his chin up in Gus’s direction, desperately trying to warn Colt, begging him to turn around. He screamed behind the tape, but Colt didn’t take his eyes off him. Didn’t even blink.
“Hey. It’s okay, you’re okay,” Colt soothed with his shredded voice and eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I’m here. You’re safe now.”
But you’re not!Mason tried to shout. Terrified, frustrated, he kicked his legs at Colt and pushed to try and shove him out of the line of fire.
Gunshot rent the forest.
A murmuration of swallows took flight en masse.
Colt dropped to his side, and Mason’s world imploded.
A scream tore up Mason’s throat, impeded from release by the duct tape that covered his mouth.
Colt’s body draped over his legs like a deadweight.
Mason gasped for air, chest heaving and head growing dizzy.
Colt was shot.
Colt was dying.
Colt was dead.
Mason’s heart shattered into a million pieces. The pieces punctured his insides.
No, no, no. Not Colt!How could this happen? They’d only just found each other again, and just like that, he was ripped away.
He screamed again. A roar that shredded his vocal cords and left them bleeding. He railed against the constraints that bound him to the tree, that prevented him from helping Colt. He needed to break free. Needed to touch Colt. Save him. But he was useless to do anything but sit there and watch the man he loved more than life itself die.
His eyelids welled up, his vision blurred, and tears of agony, of loss, of anger, of helplessness streamed down his cheeks.
Wes appeared out of nowhere, slid to a stop, and crashed to his knees next to Colt. Mason knew he was calling out to Colt, but he couldn’t hear the words, too lost in his own vortex of agony. Wes carefully turned Colt over and ripped his shirt open.
Underneath was a bulletproof vest.
And then Nick was at Mason’s side, hands on him everywhere, but Mason didn’t feel them. Couldn’t. Everything inside of him had turned to ice. Nick ripped the tape off his mouth. His lips moved, but Mason didn’t know what he was saying. Nick’s voice came from far away, the words foreign. Nick studied him, his mouth turned down into a frown, and then set to work releasing Mason’s wrists from the ties that held him to the tree.
Freed, finally, Mason launched himself for Colt, mindless of his own injuries. He put hands he couldn’t feel on Colt’s chest while tears dripped from his cheeks and splattered onto the black vest.
“Colt, wake up,” he begged. “Please, wake up. Don’t you dare leave me now.”
He lay there so still, so lifeless. “Colt.Please.”
Colt sucked in a sudden, gasping breath of air, and his eyes shot open.
