Chapter 9

Chapter

Nine

COLT

C olt leaned against the railing of his balcony, swirling the whiskey in his glass as he stared out into the twilight. The sun had long since dipped below the horizon, leaving the sky washed in deep blues and purples. A slight breeze swept across the land, stirring the trees and sending the faint scent of wildflowers toward the house. Normally, the quiet of the ranch in the evening soothed him. But tonight, it only deepened the ache that permeated his heart.

Briar wasn't coming.

He'd known it the second Etta told him she begged off dinner, feigning exhaustion. Etta had relayed the message without prying, but the glimmer in her eyes said it all: the girl needed space. Colt hadn't pushed, even though disappointment gnawed at him. He missed her. More than he should, considering how short a time she'd been here.

This balcony, the quiet moments they shared as the sun set, had become his solace. A place where he could unwind without the burden of being alpha pressing down on him. With Briar beside him, everything just... fit . It was easy, natural. She calmed the storm inside him without even knowing it. And the fact that she wasn't here now? It left him restless in ways he didn't want to admit.

He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling slowly as he let his gaze wander over the ranch spread out before him. Copper Canyon was more than just a patch of land—it was his home, his sanctuary, and it had been missing something for a long time. Now, with Briar here, that missing piece was starting to fall into place. He could feel it in his bones.

But she needed time, and damn it, if time was what she needed, then he'd give it to her—so long as that time was spent here. No matter how much his wolf wanted to claim her, Colt knew he had to tread carefully. Briar didn't understand what she meant to him yet. She was his fated mate, even if she didn't know what that was or believed she was his. He knew. As much as it twisted him up inside, he vowed not to push her, not until she was ready.

He heard the creak of floorboards behind him, followed by the unmistakable shuffle of boots. Colt didn't bother turning around as his youngest brother, Bryce, strolled out onto the balcony and propped himself against the railing beside him, a mischievous grin already spreading across his face.

"Well, look at you," Bryce drawled. "Big, bad Alpha out here brooding over his mystery woman." He clapped Colt on the shoulder with a teasing shove. "You've got it bad, brother."

Colt grunted, not in the mood for Bryce's antics. "What do you want?"

"Just checking in. Etta told me Briar wasn't joining you for supper tonight." Bryce gave him a knowing smirk. "Guess you'll have to figure out another way to sweep her off her feet, huh?"

"Drop it," Colt warned, though his voice lacked any real bite.

Bryce chuckled, clearly enjoying himself. "Come on, Colt. You're practically in full-on courtship mode, and it's hilarious. I mean, private sunset dinners on the balcony? That's some next-level romancing. Honestly, I didn't know you had it in you."

Colt shot him a sideways glare, though the corner of his mouth twitched despite himself. "You're an idiot."

Bryce shrugged, unfazed. "Maybe. But I'm not the one mooning over a girl who barely knows I exist."

"She knows," Colt muttered under his breath, swirling the last bit of whiskey in his glass before downing it in one gulp.

"Sure, she does," Bryce said, his grin widening. "But do you know what you're doing, brother? Because from where I'm standing, it looks like you're about two steps away from serenading her under her window."

Colt rolled his eyes, though he couldn't help the low chuckle that escaped him. "Get lost, Bryce."

"I'm just saying." Bryce clapped him on the shoulder again, his laughter trailing behind him as he disappeared back into the house.

Colt shook his head, but a small smile lingered on his lips. His brothers had been relentless since Briar arrived, teasing him at every opportunity. And as much as it annoyed him, they weren't wrong. He was in courtship mode—whether he wanted to admit it or not. Every time he saw Briar, his instincts screamed to claim her, to make her his in every way that mattered.

But it wasn't just instinct. It was her.

He could still see her in his mind's eye, kneeling in the garden with dirt on her hands and his mother's floppy hat shading her eyes. The way she had taken to that overgrown patch of earth, breathing life back into it with a quiet determination that spoke to something deep inside him. She belonged there. She belonged here. She belonged with him. And he'd be damned if he let her slip away.

Colt's gaze drifted toward the garden, now hidden in the deepening night. He loved the idea of Briar tending his mother's garden, of making it her own. There was something poetic about it—Briar restoring what had been lost, just like she was starting to restore pieces of herself.

An idea sparked in the back of his mind, one that had been forming ever since he'd seen her out there, knee-deep in dirt and looking more at home than he'd ever expected. He needed to do something for her. Something that showed her she wasn't just a guest here—she belonged.

Colt pushed away from the railing, his decision made. He had a plan.

He headed back inside, his boots thudding against the hardwood as he made his way toward the kitchen. Etta was at the stove, humming softly to herself as she stirred a pot of something that smelled incredible.

"Etta," Colt said, leaning against the door frame. "I need your help."

The older woman turned, one eyebrow raised. "With what, exactly?"

Colt crossed his arms over his chest, a slow grin spreading across his face. "I want to plan a picnic. Somewhere nice, out on the property. Just me and Briar."

Etta's eyes twinkled with amusement. "Well, now. Aren't you just the romantic?"

Colt chuckled. "Yeah, yeah. Can you help me put it together?"

"Of course," Etta said, already reaching for a notepad to jot down ideas. "I'll pack a nice spread—something simple but good. And we'll find a spot away from the house, where the two of you can enjoy some peace and quiet."

"That's exactly what I was thinking."

Etta glanced up, her sharp gaze softening. "She's good for you, Colt. I can see it. And I think she feels the same, even if she doesn't quite realize it yet."

Colt nodded slowly, his heart settling with a sense of purpose. "I just want her to feel at home here. She belongs, Etta. I know it."

Etta gave him a warm smile. "Then we'll make sure she knows it, too."

Colt would forever be grateful to Etta for this and so much more. As he turned to leave the kitchen, his earlier disappointment began to fade away. Briar might have needed some space tonight, but he wasn't giving up.

This wasn't just about winning her over—it was about showing her that she had a place here. A place with him.

And if it took a little time, a little patience, and maybe a romantic picnic under the Texas sky, then so be it. Colt was all in.

The next day, Colt sat at his desk, half-focused on the stack of papers cluttering the surface. Ranch life came with a lot of responsibility—contracts for cattle shipments, vet reports, feed orders. Normally, he could plow through the business side of things with no problem. Today, though, his mind kept wandering to Briar.

Was she really okay? Or was she still lost in whatever memories haunted her? He thought about checking on her in the garden, but he knew better. She needed space, and as much as his wolf growled at the distance, he'd honor that need.

He was working through the ledgers when a knock sounded at the office door. Colt's head snapped up, his senses already on alert. Before he could respond, the door opened, and one of the ranch hands—Jake—stepped in, his face tense.

"Boss," Jake said with a slight tip of his hat, "there's some men here to see you. Said it was urgent."

Colt's gut tightened. The air shifted, bringing with it the scent of strangers—unfamiliar and sharp, like oil and old leather.

"Who are they?" Colt asked, his voice calm but edged with steel.

Jake scratched his head, clearly uncomfortable. "Didn't say exactly. Just that they've been looking for someone. Thought you'd want to talk to them yourself. There's something kind of off about them."

Colt exhaled slowly through his nose and nodded. "All right. Bring them in."

The moment the strangers stepped into his office, Colt knew trouble had arrived. There were three of them, all rough around the edges, with hard faces that carried the evidence of their dangerous intent. They were dressed in plain clothes—dark trousers, loafers, and white button-down shirts. There was a sharpness in their eyes, the kind of look men wore when they weren't looking for casual conversation.

One of them, a tall man with a scar running down the side of his jaw, took the lead. He offered a lukewarm, thin smile. "Good afternoon. Name's Mark. My associates and I are just passing through, hoping you can help us out."

Colt leaned back in his chair, folding his arms over his chest. "What do you need?"

Mark reached into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out a photograph. He laid it on the desk, his eyes locked on Colt's face. "We're looking for this woman. Her name is Briar Lockwood, although she might be using an alias. Word is, she might've passed through your land."

"Who are you? US Marshalls? Rangers?"

"I don't think that matters," said Mark.

"It does to me," said Colt as he glanced at the photograph.

It was Briar, and now he knew her last name, although he'd always planned on it being Savage. Her hair was tousled, and her green eyes were wide with fear—a captured moment of someone running for her life. He forced his expression into neutral territory, locking down the surge of protectiveness roaring through his veins.

"Never seen her," Colt said evenly, meeting Mark's gaze without flinching. "You're the only visitors we've had lately."

Mark narrowed his eyes, studying Colt's face for any sign of deception. "She's dangerous, this one. We're under orders to bring her back. Might want to reconsider, in case she's lurking somewhere on your property."

Colt's jaw ticked, but he kept his voice measured. "I can assure you she's not here. So unless you're calling me a liar…"

"No, but she's good at hiding. Perhaps we could search…"

Colt stood up, staring the man down. "I said, she's not here, and you're not searching my land."

The third man, standing a few paces behind Mark, muttered something under his breath—words Colt couldn't quite catch, but they carried a note of certainty. This man knew, somehow, that Briar was here.

Colt's gaze shifted to him, his eyes narrowing. The man's hands were bandaged, knuckles scabbed and swollen, and deep scratches ran along his forearms—scratches that could only come from someone fighting for their life.

A low, dangerous growl rumbled in Colt's throat, barely audible but enough to satisfy his wolf, who recognized the scent of the predator before him. This man had hurt Briar. Colt kept his hands from curling into fists, kept himself from tearing the man limb from limb, but he kept his expression locked down tight. No sense in starting a fight—yet.

Mark took a step closer, his smile thin and oily. "We just need a look around. Won't take long. Outbuildings, grounds… just to be thorough. If she's not here, there's no harm, right?"

Colt shook his head, towering over the men with his broad shoulders and steady presence. His voice dropped into a low rumble, the kind that sent most men scurrying. "This is my land. My home. And no one searches it without my permission." He took a step closer, looming over Mark and the others, "and you don't have my permission."

The man with the scratched arms shifted uneasily, his gaze darting around the office. Mark's smile slipped, replaced by something harder, meaner.

"You sure about that?" Mark muttered.

Colt gave a slow, deliberate nod. "Very sure. Now get off my property."

Mark held his gaze for a long moment, the tension between them crackling like a live wire. Mark took a deep breath and pulled a business card from his pocket and set it on the desk.

"In case you change your mind," he said smoothly. "Or if she turns up."

Colt didn't touch the card. His gaze stayed locked on the men, cold and unyielding. "Don't come back."

The strangers muttered among themselves as they backed out of the room, their fancy shoes scuffing against the floorboards. Colt didn't move until they were gone, the door clicking shut behind them. Only then did he let out a slow breath, his jaw tight with anger.

He crossed to the window and watched as the three men climbed into a slick SUV, muttering and throwing suspicious glances back toward the house. The SUV's engine roared to life, and the tires kicked up a cloud of dust as it peeled down the dirt road.

Colt rubbed a hand over his jaw, his mind churning. He needed answers—needed to know who these men were and what they wanted with Briar. But one thing was clear: they weren't going to give up easily.

He pulled out his phone and dialed Landon first. His brother answered on the second ring. "What's up?"

"Need you and Bryce in my office," Colt said curtly. "Now."

By the time Colt set the phone down, Landon and Bryce were already on their way, moving with the quiet efficiency of men who knew something was wrong. They arrived within minutes, their expressions serious as they stepped into the office.

"What happened?" Landon asked, closing the door behind him.

Colt leaned against his desk, arms crossed. "Had visitors just now. Looking for Briar."

Bryce's easy grin vanished in an instant. "What did they want?"

Colt told them everything—the photo, the request to search the property, the man with the scratched arms who all but admitted they knew Briar was here. When he finished, Bryce's expression was hard, his playful demeanor gone.

"They hurt her, didn't they?" Bryce growled. "That one with the scratches—he's the bastard who did it."

Colt gave a sharp nod. "Seems that way."

Landon's eyes darkened, his jaw tightening. "What do you want us to do?"

"Post patrols," Colt said, his voice steady. "We're locking the ranch down. No one comes or goes without our say-so."

Landon cracked his knuckles, his wolf already stirring beneath the surface. "I'll shift and take a few of the boys. We'll follow those assholes and see where they go."

"Good," Colt said. "Stay close, but don't engage. I want to know everything—who they are, where they're headed, and what they're planning."

Landon gave a sharp nod, already turning toward the door. "On it."

Bryce crossed his arms, his gaze steady on Colt. "You gonna tell the pack at dinner?"

Colt nodded. "Yeah. They need to know we're under a threat, even if it's vague."

Bryce gave a curt nod. "We'll be ready."

As Landon disappeared out the door, shifting mid-stride into a sleek black wolf, Colt rubbed a hand over his face, exhaling slowly. The plot with Briar was thickening, and Colt knew whatever storm was coming, they'd meet it head-on. And he'd make damn sure no one ever laid a violent hand on Briar ever again.