He’d followed the girl enough to know exactly where they were headed and would take another path.
Twigs snapped and leaves crunched beneath his heavy boots as he worked his way along the creek toward the hilltop, not even bothering to be quiet. No one dared to walk that route. Not only was it inaccessible to the public, but it was dangerous terrain, just a narrow piece of land above a steep slope. The bed of water below widened and rushed faster where it got deeper and colder—which was why the girl preferred the forbidden route through the corn.
With each step, annoyance swirled inside the hunter like it did every time the girl broke the rules. Camila Bell was beginning to become a problem. Her papa was too blind and stupid to see the trouble behind his little girl’s eyes, but the hunter saw her for the mischievous little brat she was and would always be. Something would have to be done. A lesson would need to be taught.
The hunter emerged from the woods and stepped into the tall dried grass, which just reached his eyes. His heavy breathing slowed as he paused and scanned his surroundings. A second later, he saw her again, just as he knew he would.
She was trudging across his line of vision a safe distance away from spotting him when she stopped and glanced over her shoulder to see if the boy was still following her. He was, begrudgingly so, but his presence only added to the hunter’s frustration. Besides the fact that she had wandered too far, her dad would have her head if he ever found out who she was hanging around with.
Camila had only ever traveled to the hilltop alone, and she had already gotten too close for comfort. She had no business traipsing around land she didn’t own, especially when her father owned plenty.
That land belonged to the hunter. And he would do whatever it took to keep it.
3
Camila
Summers in Telluride had always been beautiful. When the trees were full, the crops were just starting to dry out, and the lakes and creeks were perfect for cooling off. That time of year was also when it felt safest to trespass through Farmer Cross’s land, since the corn stalks hid me from view.
I whipped left down a row of corn and moved faster, my dark hair blowing behind me, as I sped down the route I’d run hundreds of times before. Not until I’d reached the end of the path and stopped to turn around did I notice Ridge following not too far behind. He looked breathless and still confused, but the spark in his eyes filled my chest with hope.
“See?” I said around heavy breaths. “No harm. We’re on public land again. And now we can go up there.” I turned and pointed to the rocky mountain in front of us then swiveled my head back around to catch his reaction.
His eyes were glued to the top of the six-hundred-foot-tall mountain. From the angle he was looking at it from, it looked nearly impossible to climb. I waved him forward. The less time he thought about the arduous climb, the better it would be on his psyche.
“Unless you’re going to try to stop me again?” I arched an eyebrow and waited for him to meet my threatening stare.
When he shook his head, I smiled. “C’mon. I’ll show you the trail.”
I stomped through a section of public land filled with light brush until we reached the other side of the rock, where the incline looked much less intimidating. I hopped into my next step, feeling giddy that I had company on what used to be a solo jaunt to the top of the cliff.
The hike wasn’t at all as steep as it looked from the front, and it only took a few minutes to reach the top. Once we were there, I walked Ridge out to the large bristlecone pine tree, its bald branches thick and twisty. The tree was the strangest, most beautiful one I’d ever seen, with its large roots the size of elephant trunks and its only remaining needles visible at the very top. I’d spent hours against the massive trunk.
I spun and raised my arms to the sky, happy to be back in my element. Though I tried to come as often as I could sneak away from the vineyard, I couldn’t make it every day, every week, or even every season. My freedom usually came when my parents