Claimed by 3 Mountain Men (Silver Ridge Mountain Men)

16. Jt

16

JT

B en’s up ahead, his broad shoulders hunched against the cold, the beam of his flashlight cutting through the gloom. Hank’s a few paces behind him, muttering something under his breath as he drags a heavy chain over his shoulder.

We’ve been out here for hours, finishing up the last of the work before winter sets in. The storm earlier knocked down a few trees, and we’re here to clear the trail, make sure the equipment’s still in good shape.

It’s a hell of a night to be out here, but we’ve been out in worse. The job doesn’t wait for fair weather, and neither do we.

It feels good to get out of the lodge, away from Dad’s business ledgers and get some damn work done.

“JT, you got that chain?” Hank calls back, his voice muffled by the scarf wrapped around his neck.

“Yeah,” I reply, hefting the metal links over my shoulder. The cold bites through my gloves, the chain heavy and unyielding. I glance up, watching the way the moonlight filters through the trees, casting long, twisted shadows across the ground.

Suddenly something catches my eye.

Footprints.

I stop in my tracks, my breath catching in my throat. They’re faint, barely visible in the moonlight, but they’re there—deep, clawed prints in the mud, leading off the trail and into the thick underbrush.

“What the hell…” I mutter, stepping closer to get a better look. Women’s boots. Fresh and sunken in, deep in the woods.

“JT? You coming or what?” Ben’s voice breaks through my thoughts, but I barely hear him.

“Hang on,” I call back. I kneel down, and run my fingers over the edges of the prints. The ground is soft, wet from the storm, and the tracks are fresh—so fresh that the mud is still settling around them.

Mac.

The woods are silent, the only sound is the distant creak of the logging equipment.

“What the hell are you up to?”

I stop myself from calling out to Ben and Hank. Neither one of them would admit it but they’ve grown fond of her.

I can tell because neither one of them brought her up in conversation after Hank drove her away this morning. They’re acting the same way they did after our family dog got lost in the woods.

Rufus, the hound, had found his way back, and I have a feeling Mac had as well. I’m just wondering if they know about it. It wouldn’t surprise me if Hank let her back on the property. He acts tough, but he’s softer than either Ben or I.

“I’ll catch up in a minute. I gotta take a leak!” I holler up to them.

“Sounds good,” Ben shouts back. Hank never stops once, and keeps his gaze firmly forward.

He’s mad I made Mac leave after the storm.

The tracks lead me further from the trail, into a part of the forest we hardly visit. The trees grow closer together here, their branches twisted and gnarled, blotting out the moonlight so that I have to rely on my flashlight to see where I’m going.

She went deep in the woods into parts that are too dangerous for her. We have bears out here after all.

I follow them, my breath coming in short, sharp bursts, the cold seeping into my bones.

And then I hear it—a sound that sends a jolt of adrenaline through my veins.

A cry for help. Faint, desperate, but unmistakable.

I freeze, my heart pounding in my ears as I strain to listen. The cry comes again, a weak, ragged sound that cuts through the silence like a knife.

“Mac?” I whisper, not daring to believe it.

I break into a run, the flashlight beam bouncing wildly as I follow the tracks, the sound of her cries growing louder, and more urgent. The trees whip past me, the branches clawing at my clothes, but I don’t stop. I can’t stop.

“Mac!” I shout, my voice hoarse, filled with a fear I can’t suppress.

And then, through the twisted branches and shadows, I find her.

She’s at the bottom of a pit, her leg caught in a metal trap, the sharp teeth digging into her flesh, blood staining the earth around her. Her face is pale, twisted in pain, her eyes wide and terrified as she looks up at me, barely able to comprehend that I’m really there.

“JT… please…” she gasps, her voice is so weak it’s almost drowned out by the pounding of my heart.

I don’t hesitate. I drop to my knees at the edge of the pit, the cold, wet earth soaking through my jeans as I lean over, reaching down to her. The trap is old, rusted, but still strong enough to hold her fast, its jagged teeth cutting into her ankle with every movement.

“Hold on, Mac,” I say, keeping my voice calm, even though my hands are shaking. “I’m going to get you out of here.”

I grab the edge of the pit with one hand, the other reaching down to her. The pit is deeper than I thought, and it takes every ounce of strength I have to brace myself and reach her. Her hand is cold, slick with mud and blood, but I grip it tightly, pulling her toward me.

“Come on, I’ve got you,” I murmur, more to myself than to her, as I heave her up, the muscles in my arms burning with the effort. She cries out as the trap tugs at her leg, and I have to bite back the surge of panic that threatens to overwhelm me.

The trap. I need to get it off.

I glance down, my breath coming in ragged gasps, and see the cruel, rusted metal biting into her flesh.

Without hesitation, I leap down, landing beside her.

I set down the flashlight and kneel beside her, my hands shaking as I assess the situation.

“JT… it’s no use…” she whispers, her voice weak and trembling. “Just... just... go… get help…”

“No,” I say, my jaw clenching. “I’m not going anywhere without you.”

I fumble for the multi-tool in my pocket, my hands slick with sweat and mud as I flip it open, my fingers trembling. The trap is old, the hinges rusted, and it takes everything I have to pry it open, the metal groaning in protest as it finally gives way.

As I work on the trap, my thoughts starts to race. Who the hell would do this? What the hell was Mac doing out here in the first place?

And why, despite all the logic in the world, and all the reasons I have to be furious with her, did I care so much?

The moment the trap loosens its grip, Mac collapses against me, her body limp with exhaustion and pain. I pull her up, hoisting her out of the pit and into my arms, her head lolling against my shoulder. She’s lighter than I expected, her frame fragile in a way that sends a pang of protectiveness through me

“Hang on, Mac,” I murmur, more to myself than to her, as I start to carry her out of the woods. “I got you.”

Her breathing is shallow, her skin clammy against mine, but I keep going, driven by a fear that gnaws at my insides, the fear that if I stop, if I falter even for a moment, I’ll lose her.

I push myself harder, my legs burning with the effort, my heart pounding in my chest.

“JT…” she whispers, her voice barely more than a breath.

“I’m here, Mac,” I say, my voice tight with an emotion I don’t dare name. “I’m here. I’ve got you.”

And in that moment, with the weight of her in my arms, and the warmth of her breath against my neck, I realize just how much that promise means.

I bring her to where my four wheeler is parked. The other two are already gone. I set her on my lap, rev the engine, and slam on the gas down the trails.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, the trees start to thin, the path ahead growing clearer. The lodge isn’t far now.

I kick the door open, the heavy wood slamming against the wall with a force that reverberates through the quiet lodge. The sudden noise jolts Ben and Hank from their seats near the fireplace, both of them turning to face me, their expressions a mix of confusion and shock.

“What the hell, JT?” Hank starts, but then he sees Mac, pale and bloody in my arms, and the color drains from his face. “Oh, shit.”

“Clear the table,” I bark, my voice sharp, cutting through the haze of panic threatening to overtake us all.

Ben and Hank snap into action, sweeping everything off the dining room table with a crash, dishes clatter to the floor, papers scatter in the air. I don’t care about the mess. All I care about is getting Mac’s wound cleaned and sewn up.

I lay her down as gently as I can, her body limp and fragile against the dark wood. She winces as her leg brushes against the table, and I grit my teeth, forcing myself to focus. I’ve been in worse situations—hell, I’ve patched up men in the middle of firefights when I was in the military.

“Get me a first aid kit and some clean towels,” I order, my voice steady, even though my hands are shaking as I examine the wound. The metal trap had done a number on her leg, the teeth digging deep into her flesh, leaving ragged edges that are still oozing blood.

Ben rushes off to grab supplies while Hank hovers nearby, his face pale, eyes wide. “Is she going to be okay?” he asks, his voice barely more than a whisper.

“She will be fine” I say, my tone clipped. “We just need to stop the bleeding first.”

Hank nods, swallowing hard, and I see the fear in his eyes, the same fear gnawing at my insides. But there’s no time for fear, or hesitation. I snap into action, my training kicking in as I assess the damage, prioritizing what needs to be done first.

Ben returns with the first aid kit and towels, dumping them onto the table beside me. I rip open the kit, pulling out antiseptic wipes, gauze, and medical tape. My hands move automatically, cleaning the wound as best as I can, even as Mac whimpers in pain.

“Easy, Mac,” I murmur, my voice softer now, meant only for her. “You’re going to be okay. Just stay with me.”

She nods weakly, her eyes fluttering open briefly, but there’s a glazed, distant look in them that sends a jolt of fear through me. I need to work faster.

“Ben, apply pressure here,” I instruct, guiding his hands to the wound. “Keep it steady.”

Ben follows my lead, his hands firm but gentle as he presses down on the wound, trying to stem the flow of blood. Hank stands on the other side of the table, his hands hovering as if he wants to help but doesn’t know how.

“What happened?” he asks.

“Trap,” I say shortly, my jaw clenched as I open the kit, my hands shaking as I rummage through the supplies. “In the woods. Old, rusted. We need to get her leg cleaned up, stop the bleeding, and then I’ll stitch her up.”

“A trap?” Ben’s eyes go wide with fear. “You mean…”

“I don’t know what I mean, alright?” I snap, anger and fear bubbling over. “Right now, we need to focus on Mac. “

“Someone set a damn trap,” Hank says, his voice laced with fury. “In our fucking woods.”

“Hank, keep talking to her,” I say. “Keep her awake.”

Hank nods, leaning over the table, his voice shaking as he talks to Mac, trying to keep her from slipping away. “Hey, Mac, just hang in there, okay? We’ve got you. We’re not going to let anything happen to you.”

“What the hell was she doing out there so late anyway? Are you sure it was a trap?” Ben asks.

“I’ll show you the damn thing later,” I growl, my focus solely on Mac, noting her shallow breathing and pale face. I knew time was in short supply.

I work quickly, my fingers moving with precision as I clean the wound, and start to stitch the massive gash.

She cries out, almost lifting herself off the table.

Hank stops her, keeping her down.

“Ben, grab the antibiotics and pain meds out of the bathroom cabinet. Top shelf.”

“Hang in there,” Hank murmurs.

I finish securing the bandage and take a step back, assessing my work. The bleeding has stopped, and her leg is immobilized, but she’s still pale, her breathing too shallow. I grab one of the towels and start wiping the blood from her skin, trying to keep her clean, to keep her comfortable.

“JT…” Mac’s voice is barely more than a whisper, her eyes half-closed as she looks up at me.

“I’m here,” I say, leaning closer, my heart aching at the sight of her like this. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Thank you,” she breathes, her hand reaching out, brushing against mine. I clasp her hand, holding it tight, grounding her, and myself.

“You’re safe now,” I whisper, my voice rough with emotion I can’t afford to feel right now. “You’re safe.”

“I feel…pretty stupid,” she says, tilting her head back.

Ben arrives with two yellow pill bottles and water.

“Take a few of these,” he says, handing the meds to her.

Mac obliges, swallowing a few pills with the water before she closes her eyes again.

“Come on. Let’s get her into bed.”

We carry her up to the master bedroom and lay her down on the large four-poster bed. Her eyes flicker open.

“I’ll be fine,” she mumbles, her words slurring together.

“Rest,” I say, gently tucking the blanket around her. My heart aches at the sight of her, so pale, and vulnerable. “You can thank us later,” I whisper.

She nods, her eyes drooping.

In the hallway, we wordlessly stare at each other, our expressions reminding me of a distorted circus mirror showing three different versions of the same man.

“What the fuck is going on?” Ben finally asks.

I exhale a shaky breath, my hand still shaking as I run a trembling hand through my hair.

“I don’t know,” I admit. “But we’re going to find out.”

“Show me the trap,” Hank growls.

“It’s back on the trails.” I look them both dead in the eyes. “Did either of you know she was going to be out here?”

They both shake their heads.

“You think we’d lie about that?” Hank asks.

“Yeah, I do.”

Ben holds up his hands. “Now is not the time for the two of you to start fighting, dammit! You can both be insufferable sometimes. I’ll stay here,” Ben says, nodding toward the door. “Go get the trap.”

Without another word, I motion for Hank to follow me out of the lodge and back into the dark forest.