Page 77 of Cowboy Elite 2: Mike

Lyle appeared, veterinary bag slung over his shoulder, face grim. "Already had Heather start moving the rescue dogs to the McGrady ranch. Charlotte's packed a go-bag just in case. We're as ready as we're gonna get."

By four o'clock, the bake sale had been declared a massive success and gently concluded. Guests had been encouraged to take their purchases home, enjoy the beautiful afternoon, thank you so much for your support.

Most left cheerfully, satisfied with their pastries and their charitable contribution.

A handful, the ones who noticed Sheriff Tucker's hand never leaving his sidearm, or the way Grandpa Quentin kept his shotgun close, or how the Watkins brothers moved with coordinated precision through the crowd, stayed behind.

Mrs. Halloway and three women from her prayer group. Cooter and his two sons. Five ranchers from neighboring properties. The owner of the feed store and his wife.

They didn't ask questions. Just quietly positioned themselves, faces set with the kind of stubborn determination that defined small-town Texas.

"We're staying," Mrs. Halloway said when Lyle tried to gently encourage her to leave. "You'll need someone to pray and someone to make coffee. We're qualified for both. Not to mention we’re armed to the teeth and know what we’re doing."

Liv found herself in the kitchen with Arletta and Heather, ostensibly cleaning up from the day but really just waiting. The house had been locked down. All windows secured, doors barred except for strategic entry points. Kenny was on the roof with his rifle and night vision equipment. Joe monitored security feeds from the office. Lyle coordinated with Sheriff Tucker on defensive positions.

And Mike, Mike was everywhere, checking locks, testing communications, making sure everyone knew the plan.

They ate dinner in shifts. Arletta's chicken and dumplings, comfort food for nerves stretched thin. Mike joined Liv in the kitchen at eight and sat beside her on the worn wood bench, close enough that their thighs pressed together, warm through denim. Didn't speak. Just handed her the sweet tea he'd brought, condensation already sliding down the glass.

She took it, sipped, set it aside. Laced her fingers through his.

"You scared?" he asked finally.

"Terrified." Her thumb traced circles on his palm, absent, soothing, like she was comforting him instead of the other way around. "You?"

"Yeah. But I'd rather be terrified with you than safe without you."

They sat in silence for a moment, the sounds of evening settling around them. "I love you," he said. His hand came up, cupped her face, thumb brushing the curve of her cheekbone. "Whatever happens tonight, whatever comes, I need you to know that. I love you, Olivia Langford. Every stubborn, brave, pastry-making inch of you. And I'm not letting you go without one hell of a fight."

Her eyes filled. "I love you too. Even though your timing is terrible and your family is completely insane."

"Insanity's hereditary. You're about to catch it."

She laughed, watery and real, and kissed him. Soft and slow and full of everything they hadn't said yet. Promises and hope and the desperate human need to feel alive when death kept circling closer.

When they pulled apart, Mike pressed his forehead to hers. "Whatever happens?—"

Before he could finish, every light on the property went dark.

The sudden absence of sound was deafening. No hum of electricity, no buzz of security lights, no ambient glow from the barn or the outbuildings. Just darkness, complete and suffocating.

Mike was already moving, pulling Liv toward the door. "Stay away from the windows."

The backup generator should have kicked in. They'd tested it that morning. Seven seconds, Joe had said. Seven seconds of darkness, then power restored.

Seven seconds passed.

Then fourteen.

Then thirty.

The generator had been sabotaged.

Mike's phone buzzed. Text from Kenny. Four heat signatures approaching. North, south, east, west. Coordinated assault.

"They're here," Mike said.

From somewhere in the house she heard Charlotte’s voice. "Aunt Heather? Why are the lights off?"