Too much for a simple bonfire. Too much for a controlled burn.
Something’s on fire.
And it’s bad.
Alive and hungry—eating through something big.
It’s not a field. There aren’t any in that direction.
All that’s off to the east are buildings.
Barns. Animals. Houses. People.
“Fuck.”
I sprint to the cab, yanking open the door and grabbing my phone off the charger I hooked up when the playlist drained the battery earlier.
“No missed fuckin’ calls,” I snap, tugging at my hair as my mind spins. No one knows. They’d call if they did. “Shit.”
Who’s on night watch? Who’s even running point while Ridge and Hazy are out of town?
Should have fuckin’ asked, but I was too caught up in Aurora. In Georgia. In trying to find my footing in this new life while it merges with the one I left behind a long damn time ago.
Hazy never came to me with plans for her absence. No one did.
Phone in hand, I step back, eyes on the fire. I swallow hard, panic clawing at my chest.
My whole world is where that fire is.
Shaking the anxiety away before it can take over, I call my mom. No answer. I call again. Still nothing.
I don’t stop hitting numbers, trying to reach out for anyone who might be close, who might pick up, and circle back to the truck bed. Phone on speaker, I dig through the piles of blankets until I find our clothes, quickly sorting them.
“Baby, wake up,” I call, gently shaking her. “We gotta go.”
“Huh?” she asks, bleary-eyed.
I shake harder. Not enough to scare her—but fuck,I’m terrified. “Georgia, darlin’, you need to get up. There’s a fire at the ranch.”
That does it. She shoots upright so fast the blankets tumble off her body, revealing every inch of smooth, naked skin—breasts rising and falling with each panicked breath. I stare for all of two seconds, my brain short-circuiting at the sight, before reality slaps me in the face and I shake it off.
“What the hell?” she gasps, still half-asleep, voice thick with confusion. “What do you mean? Is Aurora okay?”
Christ. My heart caves in on itself and twists sideways.
This woman—bare, vulnerable, and worried about a kid who’s not even hers by blood—is damn perfect.
“I don’t know.” I toss her clothes across the truck bed. “Can you get dressed? I’m trying to get a hold of my mom.”
“Of course,” she chokes out, already moving, pulling on her sweatshirt with shaking hands as I ram my boots on. She stands, balancing like a pro as the truck sways slightly under her weight,completely unconcerned about her body being on full display. My eyes flick between her and the faint glow across the hill, adrenaline crackling under my skin.
I’m calling anyone I can think of—Mom, the twins, Ridge, Hazel—but no one’s picking up. My jaw’s locked so tight, I think I’ll crack a tooth.
Finally, Hazel answers, panting like she’s out of breath. “What the fuck do you—?”
“There’s a fire!” I bark, helping Georgia step down from the bed of the truck. “A building’s lit. I’m at Archer Hill with Georgia. We’re heading back now. I can’t get a hold of anyone else.”
“Ridge!” she snaps, her voice cutting through the phone like a whip. “Ridge! Get up! We gotta go!”
