Page 102 of Wild Sanctuary

Everyone murmurs in agreement before Wyatt clears his throat.

“She’s stayin’ here from now on.”

Only six words and no room for questions, and the kitchen absorbs them without a single person looking surprised.

“I’ll go down to the cabin once the sheriff clears it,” June announces, moving to grab a pen and notepad. “Here you go, honey. Make a list of what you need and I’ll grab what I can once the sheriff’s been.”

“Thank you.” My voice comes out rougher than I expected.

“I’ll take a look at the locks on the main house today.” West is still facing the stove. “Back door’s been sticking. Might as well check all of ’em.”

Colt hasn’t said a word. He’s watching Wyatt with an expression I can’t quite read, something passing between them that doesn’t need language. Then he pushes off the fridge and sets his mug in the sink.

“Anyone gets within a mile of this house that shouldn’t be here, Rhett and I will know about it.”

That’s all. No questions about who did it or why. No speculation. Just four people closing ranks so fast and so completely that my throat aches with the weight of it.

I watch a family absorb a threat the way a body absorbs a punch, and I’m standing in the middle of it, wondering when I became someone they protect.

Wyatt takes the plate West hands him and sets it in front of me instead of himself. When I look up to thank him, he’s already looking down at me.

Anger is rolling off him in waves, yet his eyes are soft as they trace the line of my collarbone and my jaw. They linger on the shadows under my eyes as he catalogs every part of me that looks different from last night. His fingers brush the back of my hand where it rests on the counter. Barely there, but enough to send a shock of awareness clear through me.

Then he picks up his mug and moves to the window.

* * *

The sheriff arrives just after nine. Deputy Torres is a young and serious man with a clipboard and a camera bag slung over one shoulder. Wyatt meets him on the porch and walks him down to the cabin while I watch from the kitchen window, still in last night’s dress because everything I own is involved in an active crime scene.

West pushes back from the table. “I’ll head down, too. Want to look at the door frame and try figure out how they got in.” He looks at June. “You want to come and grab her things?”

June nods, already pulling on her boots. “I’ll take the list.”

Maggie’s phone beeps twice in quick succession. She reads it, grimaces, and reaches for her keys. “Colicky foal out past Sage Harbor. I need to go.”

“Not alone you don’t.” Colt doesn’t look up from his coffee.

Maggie plants her hands on her hips. “Excuse me?”

“Take Miguel or Old Dave.” His shoulders are stiff, spine ramrod straight as he continues to stare into his coffee. “Someone broke onto our property last night, Magnolia, or have you forgotten?”

She grits her teeth at his use of her full name, but manages, “It’s Sage Harbor, asshole. It’s forty minutes on a straight road in broad daylight.”

Colt lifts his eyes and spears his sister with a look, that usual easy grin nowhere in sight. “Take Miguel or don’t go. Choice is all yours.”

Maggie opens her mouth, looks at me, looks at the cabin through the window, and closes it again.

“Fine.” She huffs. “I’ll radio him from the damn truck.”

The house empties in stages. Maggie first, then West and June head down toward the cabin. Colt finds Rhett somewhere between the barn and the bunkhouse, and I watch the two of them move out along the tree line, scanning the ridge methodically.

The house goes quiet after everyone leaves. Too quiet. I’m standing at the kitchen window with cold coffee when Old Dave appears at the back door, hat in his hands.

I’m not surprised he’s heard. News moves through a working ranch like water through a crack.

“Miss Daisy.” He nods at me with the quiet formality he’s used every time we’ve spoken. “Wyatt asked me to sit with you while he’s down at the cabin.”

Of course he did.