Chapter 7

The afternoon sun beat down heavily on the dirt path. Despite the bright light, Clara felt only a bone-deep, exhausted chill radiating from the center of her chest. Every step felt like walking on broken glass, not just because of her throbbing, crushed toes, but because of the suffocating humiliation she carried. The memory of last night-of stripping down and offering her body, only to be looked at with absolute disgust and thrown into the mud-burned her cheeks with intense shame. She was terrified of facing him again, terrified of his cold, dead eyes.

But with her family locking her out and Walter's threat looming, the bridge behind her was entirely burned in ashes.

She dragged her muddy duffel bag up the path to Harrison's cabin. Her legs trembled violently from her severe limp and her knees threatening to buckle from the severe lack of sleep and food.

Clara did not bother to knock this time. She simply slumped down against a large, rough stack of chopped firewood near the edge of the porch.

She rested her heavy head on her drawn-up knees. Her eyelids fluttered shut, and pure, heavy exhaustion finally overtook her lingering fear.

The loud, aggressive crunch of heavy tires tearing up gravel violently jolted Clara awake. She gasped, her heart instantly hammering against her ribs.

A massive, lifted black pickup truck tore into the small clearing. Its massive tires threw wet mud and rocks across the yard.

The truck slammed to a halt just a few feet from the wooden porch. The large engine idled with a menacing, deep, vibrating rumble.

Walter Kowalski stepped out of the driver's side door. He was wearing a dark leather jacket, and a cruel, highly confident smirk twisted his thick face.

Two bulky, heavily tattooed thugs stepped out of the passenger side. They cracked their knuckles loudly, their cold eyes scanning the area for threats.

Clara panicked. Her breath hitched in her throat. She scrambled backward on her hands and feet until her spine hit the rough, hard bark of the firewood stack.

The loud commotion caused the cabin door to swing open. Harrison stepped out onto the porch, his massive frame filling the doorway.

Harrison was holding a heavy, steel splitting axe in his right hand. His dark gaze swept over the truck and the three men with absolute, chilling indifference.

Walter stopped at the bottom of the porch steps. He looked up at Harrison. His arrogant smirk faltered slightly at the sight of the gleaming steel axe head.

Walter loudly announced he was here to check if the Hayes girl had followed his orders. He pointed a thick, stubby finger directly at Clara cowering by the wood.

Harrison rested the heavy axe head on the wooden floorboards. He stated calmly, his voice devoid of any emotion, that she was trespassing on his land.

Clara saw Walter signaling his two thugs with a flick of his chin. Pure, paralyzing terror flooded her veins as the large men took a step toward her.

Driven by pure, blind survival instinct, Clara scrambled up the wooden porch steps. She rushed directly toward Harrison's towering figure.

She threw her arms tightly around Harrison's solid waist. She buried her face deep into his broad back, physically using his massive body to hide from the men.

Harrison stiffens instantly at the sudden, desperate physical contact. The thick muscles beneath his gray shirt went completely rigid, like carved stone.

Clara gripped his shirt fabric so tightly her fingers ached. Her voice broke into a pathetic, breathless sob as she begged him not to let them take her away.

Walter laughed. It was a harsh, ugly, grating sound. He openly mocked Clara's pathetic attempt to hide behind the town's worthless loser.

Harrison looked down at Clara's white-knuckled hands gripping his waist. He didn't peel her fingers away. Instead, his free hand dropped to cover hers, pressing her grip tighter against him.

He shifted his weight, planting himself squarely between Clara and the men below. The axe head lifted from the floorboards, its gleaming edge catching the afternoon light. "She stays with me," Harrison growled, his gravelly voice echoing with absolute authority. "I'll marry her tomorrow to settle the debt. Now get off my land before I bury you under it."

Clara's breath caught in her throat. She stared at the broad wall of his back, unable to process that he had just claimed her.

Walter lunged forward up the wooden steps, his thick hand reaching for Clara. The axe swung down, its blade embedding deep into the porch railing with a deafening crack, stopping him cold. "The next one takes your hand off," Harrison said, his voice dropping to a near whisper. Walter froze, his eyes locked on the splintered wood inches from his wrist. He released Clara's hair and stumbled back down the steps, rage contorting his face as he retreated toward the truck.