Claimed By The Outlaw – Rica Lane

City records say she just inherited it. Probably doesn’t even know what she’s sitting on.” My jaw clenches until my teeth ache. Outsiders. We’ve heard the rumors. A crew from the city trying to find new routes for their product—pills, powder, whatever poison they push this week. They think the mountains are just empty space on a map. They assume the lack of patrol cars means no law exists out here. Wrong. I’m the law. The smoker chuckles, flicking his cigarette butt onto Avery’s porch.

It lands on the wood I fixed for her yesterday. That’s it. No warning shout. No shot in the air. I simply step out from the trees. Six-foot-five of beard and muscle. A nightmare made flesh. The lanky one spots me first. He freezes, eyes widening as he takes in my size, the knife on my leg, the violence on my face. “Hey,” he stammers, dropping the tablet to his side.

“We didn’t know anyone was⁠—” I keep walking. I don’t rush. I move with the inevitable momentum of a landslide. The smoker turns, reaching inside his jacket. Mistake. I close the distance in three long strides. Before he can clear his weapon, I grab his wrist. I twist sharply, forcing the joint against its natural range of motion. A sickening pop echoes through the clearing. He screams, dropping to his knees in the snow. I don’t let go. I wrench his arm behind his back and shove him face-first into the railing.

The wood creaks but holds. “Don’t,” I growl at the lanky one. His hand hovers halfway to his belt. He stops, pale and shaking, staring at his partner groaning against the porch. “We… we’re just hiking,” Lanky lies, voice cracking. “Hiking with a tablet? Mapping routes?” I stare at him. “You think I’m stupid?” I release the smoker, shoving him down into the snow. He curls up, cradling his wrist, whimpering. I loom over them, blocking out the sun. “Who sent you?” I demand. “Nobody,” the smoker gasps. “We’re just⁠—” I step forward, boot crushing the cigarette butt he threw.

“You lit- tered,” I state. “And you’re trespassing. On private property. On Gunnar land.” The name registers. Recognition floods the lanky guy’s eyes. Fear. Real fear. They’ve been briefed. They know who runs these mountains. “We didn’t know,” Lanky babbles, hands up. “We thought it was abandoned.” “It’s not.” I point to the cabin. “A woman lives here. She is under the protection of the Broken Halos MC.

Do you know what that means?” They nod frantically. “It means if I see you here again,” I drop my voice to a whisper far scarier than a shout, “I won’t just break a wrist. I will disappear you. The snow is deep.

The freezing rain feels less like water and more like a thousand tiny needles stabbing every inch of exposed skin on my face. My fingers are numb inside these cheap hardware store gloves, stiff and clumsy as I grip the hammer. I swing at the nail head for the third time and miss, the metal head connecting with a wet thud against the rotting wood of the porch railing instead.

“Come on,” I hiss through my chattering teeth, adjusting my grip. “Just go in. Please.” The nail mocks me. It’s bent at a forty-five-degree angle now, half- embedded in the gray, waterlogged timber like a crooked tooth. This cabin was supposed to be a fresh start. A refuge. When the lawyer called to tell me my biological uncle—a man I’d never met—had left me a property in Pine Valley, I pictured a cozy A-frame with a smoking chimney and a bearskin rug.

I did not picture this. The shack, because that’s really what it is, leans precariously to the left. The roof has more moss than shingles, and the front porch rail- ing—the one I’m currently fighting a losing war against—is hanging on by sheer force of habit. But it’s mine. For the first time in twenty-three years of bouncing between foster homes, crowded group centers, and apartments with paper-thin walls, I own something that can’t be taken away.

Even if it is current- ly trying to give me hypothermia. A gust of wind screams down the mountain pass, nearly knocking me off the step stool. The vintage toolkit I found under the sink sits open on the decking, rapidly filling with water. I don’t even know what half the tools are for. There’s a wrench that looks like it could double as a weapon and a saw so rusty I’m afraid looking at it will give me tetanus.

“Okay, Avery,” I mutter, wiping rain out of my eyes. “Focus. You sur- vived the system. You survived rush hour in the city. You can sur- vive a piece of wood.” I line up the hammer again. I need to secure this railing before the storm gets worse.

This is a short excerpt from the opening of “” by Unknown, quoted for review and introduction purposes. All rights belong to the copyright holders.

Book Information

• Unique ID: d4f0a45894ef8723
• File Extension: .pdf
• File Size: 1,462,447 bytes (1.395 MB)
• Title: –
• Author: Unknown
• Pages: 129
• Language: English (en)

Reading & Word Statistics

• Estimated Reading Time: 163.31 minutes
• Total Words: 32,662
• Total Characters: 177,738
• Average Words per Page: 253.19
• Average Characters per Page: 1377.81

Most Frequent Words

back (156), like (155), against (144), i’m (122), eyes (100), oliver (95), don’t (86), heavy (86), avery (84), look (80), door (77), it’s (73), dark (69), voice (68), cabin (67), hand (67), one (66), around (65), hands (64), mountain (62), want (62), snow (61), looks (60), man (58), he’s (58), know (56), need (56), face (54), mine (53), chest (52), say (52), skin (50), head (48), says (47), cold (46), fire (45), going (44), i’m (44), toward (43), doesn’t (42), air (42), you’re (42), wood (41), wind (40), heat (40), soft (40), storm (39), breath (39), get (38), now (38), feel (38), you’re (38), she’s (38), porch (35), pull (35), keep (35), see (35), room (35), away (34), way (34), sound (33), deep (33), let (33), thick (33), neck (33), fingers (32), time (32), ing (32), boots (32), makes (32), turns (31), world (31), silence (31), never (30), open (30), coffee (30), place (30), right (30), feels (29), every (29), arms (29), body (29), arm (28), lips (28), ridge (28), take (28), move (28), logan (27), front (26), hits (26), little (26), home (26), looking (25), weight (25), sharp (25), leather (25), stop (25), feet (25), still (25), waist (25).

PDF Download