Page 111 of Promised to the Cowboy

I shove Evie behind me and turn. He comes up with a knife. I catch his wrist with both hands. The strain hits my chest instantly. Not pain. Pressure. A fist closing from the inside.

I bear down harder. The knife hovers six inches from my throat.

Then Caleb’s boot drives into the man’s forearm. Bone cracks, and the knife drops.

Caleb hauls him sideways despite the bad knee, and Daniel appears a second later, kicking the weapon away and forcing the man facedown.

“Move, Evie,” Daniel orders.

I turn. Ethan has reached her. He takes her arm, gentle but firm, pulling her toward the shelter of the trucks.

She resists. “Gabriel.”

“I’m right behind you.”

Her eyes search mine. She sees the hand I have pressed flat against my chest. “No.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not.”

“Go with Ethan.”

“Gabe—”

“Evie.” The word comes out harder than I mean.

She freezes.

I soften it immediately. “Please.”

Her face changes. Not surrender. Trust.

She lets Ethan move her. I watch until she reaches the first truck and Beckett puts two veterans around her.

I straighten. The world tilts once, then rights itself.

The aircraft engine begins to turn over behind us. A low mechanical whine builds across the field. Every head turns. Alexander Voss is already moving toward the stairs. His remaining men collapse around him, backing toward the aircraft.

He’s lost Evie. Now he’s trying to leave.

Daniel lifts his radio. “East team, close the runway. Federal team, move now.”

Static answers.

Then Ethan’s voice from behind the trucks. “They’re still six minutes out.”

Six minutes is too long.

The plane’s engines rise. The strip is clear ahead of it. Nothing between Voss and the open eastern sky.

Then a new sound rolls over the western ridge. Low and heavy. Familiar.

Rotors.

I look up.

A helicopter comes over the ridge at speed, banking hard as it drops toward the field.