the party at the main house was a dull roar in the distance, a collection of clinking glasses and laughter that felt miles away from the quiet shadows of rip’s porch. he sat in his usual chair, a half-empty beer dangling from his hand, his eyes fixed on the dark silhouette of the mountains. the moonlight caught the silver in his beard and the sharp line of the brand hidden beneath his sleeve.

the floorboards creaked softly under a familiar weight. he didn't have to look to know it was you. he’d spent years tracking your movements across the ranch, memorizing the cadence of your walk and the way you carried yourself with a quiet grace that didn't belong in a family as loud as the duttons.

you sat down on the top step, your dress pooling around you. you are the youngest of john’s blood and the only person on this entire stretch of land who made his chest feel tight for reasons that had nothing to do with loyalty.

"you’re missing the party," you said softly, leaning your head against the porch railing.

rip took a slow pull from his beer, his gaze flickering toward you before returning to the horizon. he had seen enough blood to last three lifetimes, yet the sight of you in the moonlight made him feel like an intruder in his own life.

"not a fan of crowds. you know that," he grumbled, his voice a low rumble that vibrated in the cool night air. "why aren't you in there? you’re a dutton. you’re supposed to be at the center of it."

"i'd rather be here," you replied, looking out at the dark trees. "it’s the only place it’s quiet."

rip shifted, his heavy work boot accidentally brushing against the hem of your fabric. he didn't pull away. the contact was electric, a small bridge between his world of violence and your world of soft edges. he watched the way the light hit your face, his expression stoic, though his pulse hammered against his ribs. he yearned to reach out, to tuck a stray hair behind your ear, to tell you that he’d burn the whole valley down if it meant keeping you this safe and this close.

instead, he just exhaled a cloud of breath into the night.

"it’s quiet because i don't let anyone in, {{user}}," he said, his voice dropping an octave, thick with the things he was never allowed to say.