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"Should'a minded your own goddamn business, runt," he growls, leveling the barrel at my skull. "Now I'm gonna put you down like the mangy mutt you are."
My fingers claw uselessly at the dirt, my vision starting to swim from the force of that last blow. Dammit, I can't let it end like this. Not when I've finally found a reason to keep on living.
The metallic click of the hammer drawing back echoes like a thunderclap in my ears. I grit my teeth, steeling myself for the inevitable eruption of searing agony that will soon tear through me. At least Rhylee's safe back at the cabin, spared from witnessing this grisly conclusion.
"Tucker!"
That voice, ringing out with such fierce determination, has my eyes flying wide in disbelief. No... she didn't...
Sure enough, through the swirling haze, I spot a familiar silhouette emerging from the tree line, the cold steel of my own rifle clutched in those trembling hands and angled squarely at the poacher.
"You get the hell away from him right now!" Rhylee's voice slices through the tense standoff, all traces of her usual timid demeanor banished in the face of this deadly threat.
That greasy bastard lets out a scornful bark of laughter. "Well, lookie what we got here," he rumbles, his tone dripping with disdain. "Some kinda nerdy city girl come to play cowgirl with the big boys?"
Rhylee's jaw tightens. The rifle in her grasp doesn't waver an inch as she stares him down without an ounce of fear.
"Let him go," she grits out, her voice low. "Or I swear, I'll splatter your brains all over this forest."
The poacher snorts derisively, clearly unfazed by her threat as he lazily swings the barrel of his revolver to point at her delicate throat.
"You ain't gonna do shit, little lady," he sneers, taking a ponderous step toward her. "I can see it in them big doe eyes. You're too yella to actually pull that trigger on a real man."
Rhylee's plump lips purse and, for a terrifying second, I fear she's about to falter, to surrender in the face of his taunts and threats. But then her chin juts out stubbornly, her grip on the rifle tightening with renewed resolve.
"Maybe you're right," she concedes with a casual shrug. "Maybe I won't actually shoot you."
The poacher's piggish features split into a victorious leer, his arm already starting to drop as if her capitulation is a foregone conclusion. But then Rhylee continues in that same conversational tone, pinning him with a look of pure, unshakable steel.
"But did I happen to mention that I went to college on a softball scholarship?"
Before any of us can process the non-sequitur, she whips the rifle around in a blur, gripping the thick barrel like a bat. The solid steel butt slashes through the air with blinding speed, that compact swing packing every ounce of Rhylee’s strength behind it.
It connects with the poacher's thick skull with a sickening thud, the impact whipping his greasy head violently to the side. His eyes roll back in their sockets as that blubbery mass crumples bonelessly to the forest floor in an unconscious heap.
For a suspended heartbeat, the only sound is the labored rasp of my own panting breaths as I gape at the fierce woman standing over her fallen foe. Then, the distant thwup-thwup-thwup of rotor blades shatters the eerie stillness, the authorities finally converging on our location.
Rhylee blinks as if only now registering the enormity of what she's done. Her chest heaves with exertion, those lush curves rising and falling enticingly beneath the thin fabric of her sweat-dampened shirt.
In two strides, I've crossed the distance between us, hauling her into my embrace with a fierceness that allows no chance for escape or protest. Not that she offers any, her slender curves melting against me as her arms wind around my neck with equal desperation.
“Rhylee..." I rasp, my voice thick and choked with a thousand unspoken emotions battering me from the inside. "Darlin', I... God, I'm so fucking sorry for trying to shut you out. For not seeing how strong and capable you truly are."
She silences me with a shake of her head, those lush lips curving into a smile that's somehow both radiant and wry.
"You don't have to apologize," she murmurs, her delicate fingers tracing the sharp line of my jaw with a tenderness that has my heart clenching. "I know why you felt the need to push me away, to try and keep me safe from the dangers of your world. I get it, I really do."
I open my mouth to respond, to try and explain the twisted mess of emotions and memories that drove my bullheaded actions. But then she's rising up on her tiptoes, her mouth slanting over mine in a searing, passionate kiss that obliterates every coherent thought.
When we finally break apart, we're both panting harshly, our gazes locked in a heated exchange that requires no words. Rhylee's fingers toy idly with the tousled hair at my nape, her lips curved in a secretive little smile.
"I'm not going anywhere, Tucker Rhodes," she vows. "You're stuck with me, like it or not. We're partners now, in every sense of the word."
My heart thunders against my ribs as the truth of her declaration sinks in. This fierce, beautiful woman has shattered the last of my carefully constructed defenses, faced down my most deep-seated demons without an ounce of fear or hesitation. In doing so, she's irrevocably claimed a part of me I thought was long dead and withered—the part that still yearns for a profound connection, for someone to face the wildness of this existence side-by-side.
I let out a rasping chuckle, gathering her even tighter against me as the chopper blades grow deafening overhead.
"Wouldn't want it any other way, Doc," I rumble against the silken strands of her hair.
