▍ AN ORIGINAL ╱ western romance
There's a kind of wild you can't outrun.
Lemon Odell knows this better than anyone-the kind that lives under your skin, that shapes the way you move, the way you fight, the way you break. Born into a bloodline stitch...
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"Leaving so soon?" His voice was too close, his breath hot against the side of my face. "We're just getting started."
I yanked my arm, hard, trying to pull away, but his grip only tightened, pulling me closer, making it clear that I wasn't going anywhere. My heart pounded against my ribs, panic turning to ice in my veins. There was no outrunning this. Not now.
I swallowed, forcing down the rising fear as I lifted my chin, voice steady despite the tremble building inside. "Let go of me."
He chuckled, low and cruel, fingers digging deeper into my arm. "Oh, come on now. We were just having a little fun."
But there was no fun in his eyes. Just control and the kind of confidence that came from knowing no one would stop him.
My pulse thrummed, loud and frantic in my ears, but I didn't let it show. I met his gaze, locking onto those cold, arrogant eye. I could feel the strength in his grip, the way it tightened, a silent dare for me to fight back. But I had learned long ago that brute force wasn't always the answer.
I had to stay calm. I had to be smart.
"I said, let go," I repeated, my voice like steel, cold and unwavering.
For a moment, he hesitated.
There was just a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes, like maybe he hadn't expected me to hold my ground. But then the smirk returned, the lazy grin twisting across his face. He leaned in closer, the stench of alcohol and cheap tobacco making my stomach churn.
"And I said," he murmured, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper, "we're just getting started."
The knot of fear in my chest tightened, but I didn't flinch. Didn't move. I couldn't let him see the panic that threatened to swallow me whole.
I jerked my arm again, harder this time, twisting my body with enough force to break his hold, at least for a second. He wasn't expecting the sudden movement, and I used that moment to step back, putting just a sliver of distance between us.
But he was faster.
His hand lashed out again, grabbing my jacket this time, yanking me back toward him with a force that nearly knocked me off my feet.
"Where the hell do you think you're going?" he snarled, his eyes flashing with something dar. The laughter, the mocking tone, was gone now. This was something else, something raw and cruel.
My heart hammered in my chest, panic threatening to overtake me. I wasn't going to get out of this alone. Not with three of them. No matter how many times I told myself I was strong, capable, I couldn't outmuscle them. I couldn't outrun them.
The reality of it crashed into me, sharp and unforgiving.
And then, out of nowhere, another voice cut through the night—a calm, steady voice that sent a shock of relief straight through me.
