Page 5 of Ranger's Oath
She has a point, but I'm not willing to concede it. "Your penthouse has begun to feel like a prison.”
“It’s safe,” she insists.
“Safe is simply confinement with better sheets.”
The corner of her mouth lifts. “I’m trying, Sadie.”
“I know.” My voice cracks, betraying me. I swallow hard. “But you've changed my whole existence without asking. You stole my choice.”
Cassidy kneels beside me, brushing my hair back from my eyes. Her hand lingers, warm and steady. “I did, and I’d do it again. You're my sister. I love you, and if you look inside yourself you'll know you'd have done the same for me.”
She isn't wrong. The tears sting before I can stop them. I hate that she sees them. I hate that a part of me still clings to her touch like it’s the only thing keeping me tethered to a world I'm no longer sure is mine.
I steel myself, masking the fear with brittle defiance. “Fine. I’ll deal. But don’t expect me to play the grateful little sister. Not after this.”
Cassidy exhales, weary. “I don’t expect you to be grateful. I only expect you to survive.”
Her words hang heavy in the room as she regains her feet and leaves. I close my eyes, but the sounds and scents won’t let me rest. I feel everything too much, like the world has peeled open and stuffed itself into my veins.
I don’t know how to live like this. I only know I won’t let it break me.
From the foyer, I hear a knock sound at the door—firm, authoritative. Cassidy returns, her eyes cutting quickly to mine. “He’s here.”
“Who’s here?” I demand.
Before she can answer, the door opens, and Gage, a man I danced with at my sister’s wedding, steps inside. The air between us feels charged and electric. My new senses flare, catching his scent—leather, steel, something primal. Even the elevator’s piano-string whine seems to tune itself to him. My head starts to spin, and I feel as though I want to throw up. My pulse spikes.
His stare pins me in place, heavy and unrelenting, as if he’s peeling back layers I didn’t give him permission to see. Something feral glints in his eyes, dark and unsettling, and it sends a chill racing along my spine. Gage, the weight of him makes the air itself feel dangerous.
What lingers is more than fear. It coils low and certain, a sense that our paths won’t just cross—they’ll collide.
The slam of a door down the hall shatters the moment. Voices rise—firm, commanding, practiced in the cadence of men who don’t ask permission. He breaks our stare and turns away, leaving me with the echo of it, a shadow pressed against my skin.
CHAPTER 2
GAGE
Earlier I parked outside Rush and Cassidy’s penthouse. The building is all glass and steel, rising over Galveston like it owns the horizon. I swipe my keycard, step into the elevator, and ride it to the top. My reflection stares back at me in the polished metal—hard eyes, clenched jaw, a man pretending he’s in control.
Cassidy leads me to Sadie’s room, where I catch a glimpse of her before Cassidy closes the door quietly and leads me back to Rush’s office. It smells of old leather, premium whiskey, and salt air drifting in from the sea. Team W sprawls across the space in varying degrees of tension—Gideon leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, Dalton pacing like a captive predator, Deacon flipping a pen between his fingers like he’s daring it to break. Rush sits behind his desk, eyes steady, Cassidy at his side. Her hand rests protectively on Sadie’s file. The weight of that file presses into the room heavier than any storm.
I stand near the window, forcing my posture into calm discipline. Inside, my wolf prowls. Every time Sadie’s name is mentioned, I feel it, that restless pull in my blood I don’t want to even recognize, much less name.
My hands ball into fists once, too tight, before I force them open against my thigh. The small slip makes me curse myself for showing it. I count my breaths, but by the third I lose track and grind my teeth to cover it.
Rush clears his throat. “You all know about what happened in Aruba. The engagement party. The attack.” His voice is controlled, but underneath, I hear the scrape of rage. “Sadie, saw something she wasn’t supposed to. A cop executed in cold blood. They tried to silence her, and when that failed, they tried to finish the job when they landed in Houston.”
Dalton’s pacing halts. “So why isn’t she dead? Cartels and mafia don't generally miss their targets.”
Cassidy’s voice cuts in, quiet but firm. “Because I changed her.”
The room goes still. Gideon swears under his breath. Deacon drops his pen. My chest seizes, and for a second, I forget how to breathe.
“You… turned your sister?” Gideon asks, incredulous.
Cassidy lifts her chin, bracing. “She was dying. I didn’t have a choice.”
Deacon shakes his head slowly. “There’s always a choice.”
