Page 53 of Dallas Rivals

“Cala!” a voice shouts.

My smile freezes midair.

That voice.

No way.

Roger.

The firefighter forces the barn door open—but it’s another man who storms in right after him, calling Cala’s name like a desperate prayer.

Who the hell is this idiot?

“Roger? What are you doing here?” she asks, her voice breaking as she throws herself against his chest.

“I got in last night. I wanted to surprise you, but the hotel said it wasn’t safe to go out. I came as soon as I could—your dad told me there’d been an accident.”

Cala glances at me from the corner of her eye before stepping away from him, fast, like she can feel the anger radiating off me.

She’s not wrong.

I can feel it burning through my veins—though my face stays perfectly still.

“Mr. Walker?” the firefighter calls, pulling my attention away from the scene. “I’m Officer Morales.”

“Officer, thanks for the help,” I say, gripping his hand firmly. “How bad is it out there?”

I walk beside him and step outside, my stomach tightening into a hard knot. There are broken pieces of… everything—objects I can’t even recognize—scattered across the property. Turns out what was blocking the door was the golf cart we use to get around the ranch. Or what’s left of it. It’s completely wrecked.

Eliza, Lucien, and Cala’s mother are standing in front of my house, clinging to one another the second they see us step out.

Astro bolts toward me, faster than I’ve ever seen him move in his life.

“I’m fine… I’m fine,” I murmur, running a hand down Astro’s back.

Cala waves to her parents from a distance before sprinting toward them.

“The only structure with major damage is the caretaker’s house, Mr. Walker,” Officer Morales says. “I’m sorry.”

I look toward where Lucien’s place used to stand—but it’s gone. Completely gone. Like Thanos snapped his damn fingers and erased it from existence. Only the foundation remains.

“Damn it,” I breathe.

It’s not the money. I can rebuild it in a few months if I have to.

What gets to me are the Saint-Clairs—their things, their memories—wiped out in a single night.

“Yes,” Officer Morales agrees, glancing around the wreckage. “It was a big one—an F3. Pretty rare for this area, but honestly, nothing surprises me anymore. Climate change is real, and it’s here.”

“Denying it only makes it worse,” I mutter absently, my gaze drifting over the fields. My animals are grazing like nothing happened, stepping around splintered wood scattered across the grass.

My hands rest on my hips as my eyes shift toward Cala and her parents. The three of them are locked in an embrace—tight, trembling—while that idiot Roger stands off to the side, watching them with pity written all over his face.

“This week we’ll start clearing the debris,” Officer Morales says, adjusting his clipboard. “But we’ll be inspecting the most critical cases first.”

“That won’t be necessary,” I reply, shaking his hand once more. “Go help the folks who really need it. I can handle things here. Thank you again, Officer.”

He tips his yellow helmet and heads back toward the fire truck where his team is waiting.