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The pulses coming off the caverns had gotten worse the closer we’d gotten to them, vibrating through the roots of the trees. I’d felt it in my chest, a buzzing tension that crawled up my spine and settled behind my teeth. Jett looked a little white around the mouth. Ryder had gone quiet, which was worse.

And the prey we were hunting was still out there.

Jett kicked at a pinecone, sending it rocketing into the brush. “Two hours and we still didn’t bag him. Embarrassing, boys. Truly.”

Ryder made a low sound in his throat. “We could swing by the jail on the way to the rodeo,” he suggested a bit desperately. “There’s someone in holding no one would miss. Might take the edge off.”

That almost sounded like a good idea. The agitation crawling under my skin had an edge. I could feel it in my breath, my jaw, the way my hands kept flexing like they missed something warm around them.

Sienna’s face flickered in my mind. I needed to stay away from her when I was like this. No good could come of letting her anywhere near this version of me.

“No jail,” Jett said firmly, pointing a new popsicle at Ryder’s chest like a sermon. “You’re coming to the rodeo. We’ll all go. We don’t need anything out of the ordinary right now that could get attention.”

Ryder scowled. “You sound like one of my probation officers.”

“You sound like someone who needs funnel cake and loud music,” Jett shot back. “Sit next to Sterling in the stands and heckle me. It will be therapeutic for you.”

Ryder muttered something about therapeutic homicide and kicked at the dirt.

I dragged a hand over my face, trying to force air into my lungs that didn’t taste like iron.

“You’re not getting out of it, either,” Jett snapped at me, taking a bite out of the new popsicle with his front teeth like the psycho that he was. “You’re wound tighter than a bull rope. If you don’t do something to bleed off all that energy, you’re going to go feral.”

Ryder snorted. “And I don’t have time for that right now.”

I shot him a look, and he lifted both palms defensively. “Hey. Just stating facts.”

Jett tossed his empty popsicle stick into the truck bed. “Ride tonight.”

I blinked at him. “What?”

“Ride,” he repeated, slower. “You haven’t gotten on a bull in years. You need it.”

“No,” I said automatically. “I’ve got things to⁠—”

“You need it,” Jett said again, stepping into my space just enough that my pulse sharpened. “You’re too keyed up to be touching human beings right now, including your girl. Don’t go see her. Don’t go brood in the barn. Get on a bull and let it throw the bad decisions out of you.”

Ryder crossed his arms. “He’s right. And you know I never say that.”

I stared at the dirt for a long moment, the smell of the clearing still clinging to my lungs, the copper edge of it lodged inside me. I imagined walking up to Sienna’s door like this, buzzed with adrenaline and bloodlust, my eyes wrong.

Jett clapped a hand on my shoulder. “Ride tonight, Sterling.”

I let the breath leave me slowly, like letting go of the hunt one finger at a time.

“Fine,” I said. “I’ll ride.”

Jett grinned victoriously.

Ryder jerked his chin toward the road. “Maybe between the three of us, we won’t get banned from the arena before the first gate opens.”

I moved toward my truck, feeling the jitter in my muscles shift, tighten, and change shape in anticipation.

A bull wasn’t what I wanted.

A bull didn’t scream right.

A bull didn’t beg.