CHAPTER TEN

Dust billowed behind her as Rachel Blackwood burst from the antique store's shadowy basement. Her boots thudded against the arid earth, pounding a relentless rhythm that matched the racing of her heart.

Dust billowed behind her. The basement door banged shut in her wake. Her breath came in quick bursts, chasing the rhythm of her heart.

"Scott Hawkeye!" she yelled, the name slicing through the open air. Ahead, his figure blurred against the backdrop of the reservation, a ghost fleeing justice under the moonlight.

His shoulders tensed as he glanced back, eyes wild. A shirt dangled from his grip, the fabric flapping like a white flag that refused to be raised. He threw it over his head, but panic outpaced him, and he ripped it away half on. It fluttered to the ground, discarded. Bare-chested, he sprinted harder, muscles flexing with desperation, heading straight for the river's edge.

He had a sinewy, lithe body like a strip of dried leather.

"Stop!" It was command more than plea, authority woven into the single word. She narrowed her piercing eyes, calculating, anticipating his next move even as her hat took flight, carried off by the wind as she darted forward.

Scott's bare skin gleamed with sweat, his flight towards the river an act of sheer instinct.

"Texas Rangers!" she tried again. "Stop!"

He didn't. Instead, his pace quickened, a mad dash towards the shimmering promise of the river. And Rachel, undaunted, gave chase.

Ethan emerged from the thickets, chest heaving, eyes locked on the fleeing suspect. "Texas Rangers!" His voice boomed across the open space, a clear warning laced with the threat of imminent capture.

Scott's head jerked toward the shout. For a split second, his eyes widened with recognition, the gravity of his situation dawning on him. But fear proved a potent fuel.

He stumbled to the edge of the river, glancing back.

Then he grinned, winking at Rachel, and flung himself into the water.

"Damn it, Hawkeye!" Rachel's voice was a knife, cutting through the heavy air. She was a mere stride behind, her body practically steaming with adrenaline.

The water ahead churned as Scott foolishly rushed ahead, splashing forward as if it were a wall that could shield him from capture.

Not hesitating for a second, Rachel launched herself after him, and she ignored Ethan's sudden and desperate shout. Water splashed high, droplets catching the sunlight like fleeting diamonds as she hit the surface. Her entry was a sleek arrow, no hesitation, only resolve.

No stopping. No slowing. Rachel was a bullet, her body slicing through the water with deadly precision.

Scott's tan back glistened ahead, his arms flailing, fighting the pull of the current. He was strong but panicked, energy wasted in wild thrashes. Rachel, trained and relentless, conserved her strength for the inevitable clash.

Water filled her ears, the world reduced to muffled chaos. Only her quarry mattered. She reached out, fingers grazing skin. Then, contact. Her arm latched around Scott's neck, grip ironclad. His momentum halted by her sudden anchor.

The river fought them both, a beast enraged by their disturbance. Dragging, pulling, it sought to claim them for its depths. But Rachel held.

He splashed wildly, a futile attempt at speed. Rachel surged forward, her breaths measured against the adrenaline coursing through her veins. They collided, a tangle of limbs and desperation, tumbling in the current that pulled with unyielding strength. Rachel's hand shot out, fingers grasping, finding purchase around Scott's slick neck. Her grip tightened, the fugitive's pulse thundering beneath her palm.

"Knife!" Ethan's shout fractured the moment, a crack of warning.

Rachel's eyes snapped to Scott's hand, the glint of metal flickering up from the glittering water. Instinct took over. Twisting her body, she felt the hiss of the blade, a whisper away from her flesh.

"Damn it, Rae, he's armed!" Ethan's voice was strained. She glimpsed her partner sprinting along the river's edge, following after them, clearly trying to tell her to let him go—to get clear of the knife and catch him down river.

Adrenaline surged. Muscle memory guided her, every second of training pulsing through her veins. With a deft move, she shifted her weight, wrenching Scott's wrist. The knife, a lethal promise, hovered perilously close.

"Drop it!" she commanded, voice thundering over the current's rush.

Scott bucked, desperate, but Rachel held firm. The fight was primal, two forces colliding with the unstoppable will to survive.

"Careful, Rae!" Ethan's concern bled through, even as he sprinted along the shore, following the current.

The blade danced again, a silver flash of danger. This time Rachel was ready, lunging back with a fluid grace. Close. Too close.

Water tossed around them, a writhing serpent of liquid force. Rachel's breath came in sharp stabs, each inhale a battle against the river's grip. She clung to Scott, her fingers vice-like on his slick skin. Muscles strained, tendons tight as steel cables, she wrestled with the fury of a cornered predator.

"Let go!" Scott grunted, his voice a guttural rasp.

"Drop the knife!" Rachel shot back, her words carving through the tumultuous air.

Their bodies twisted, entwined in desperate combat. They dipped below the surface, a world of muffled roars and diffused light.

Scott thrashed, a wild animal in its death throes. His knee jabbed at her side, seeking leverage, seeking pain. Rachel absorbed the blow and traded it for disarming him.

A sudden twist of Scott's wrist, the knife glinting as it fell. Then it was lost in the frothing white.

Scott's eyes flashed with the realization of his vulnerability, but Rachel was relentless. She used his momentary shock to her advantage, her grip tightening around his forearm now that she'd lost her hold on his neck.

Their struggle slowed, the river's resistance waning as they reached the wider side of a bend.

Waterlogged and weary, Rachel could feel Scott's desperate pulse under her fingertips as she hauled him toward the bank, each step a battle against the pull of the river and the suck of the mud below. At one point, her boots slipped, sliding, but she managed to keep her feet.

"Come on, you son of a—"

She grunted as she fought for stable footing, her muscles burning with the effort. The terrain rebelled beneath her, but resilience was woven into her fabric, a thread spun from years of trials and triumphs.

Ethan's voice cut through the chaos.

With a splash that sent ripples through the already disturbed water, he plunged in beside her.

Together, they shifted their grip on the now defenseless Scott, hoisting him up between them. Ethan's presence lent her strength, and the weight seemed to lift just enough for progress to be made. Water cascaded off Scott as they dragged him, his resistance waning.

Finally, with one last heave, they deposited Scott onto the shore. He lay gasping like a fish out of water, the fight drained from his limbs as Rachel and Ethan stood over him, gulping the air as the tremble of spent adrenaline rippled through their aching limbs.

They had their man. Now, they just needed to prove it.