The impact knocked the breath out of Delois.

For one agonizingly long second, the world stopped spinning. She felt the rough, chapped texture of Bart's lips against hers. She felt the rapid, heavy thud of his heart hammering directly beneath her ribs. His breath was hot and tasted faintly of mint.

The shock sent a violent jolt of electricity down her spine. She scrambled backward, her hands pressing into the wet mud to push herself off his chest. Her face burned with a sudden, furious heat.

Bart rolled up to a sitting position instantly. He turned his head sharply away from her. The tips of his ears were dark red.

He raised the back of his hand and wiped it roughly across his mouth, pressing hard enough to leave a red mark on his own skin. He kept his eyes fixed on the grass, his jaw muscles jumping.

As Delois pushed herself up to her knees, the sudden movement snagged the thin cord around her neck. The old, braided string of her grandmother's amulet snapped.

The heavy wooden pendant slid off her skin and dropped silently into the tall, muddy weeds. Neither of them noticed.

Gonzalo stood over them, his chest heaving. The shock of almost hitting his sister had morphed back into pure fury. He took a step forward, his fists clenching again.

"I'm going to tear him apart!" Gonzalo roared.

Delois threw her arms out again, staying on her knees between Bart and her brother.

"I said stop!" Delois screamed, her voice tearing at her throat. "He didn't push me! I slipped! Bart jumped in and pulled me out of the water! He saved my life!"

She spat the words out as fast as she could, her chest heaving.

Gonzalo froze. Connie, who was picking himself up from the mud, stopped moving. The brothers stared at her, their angry faces twisting into expressions of deep confusion.

The heavy silence in the yard was stretched thin, but underneath it, a strange rustling echoed from the dense tree line bordering the property. The sound of snapping twigs and heavy, hurried movement went completely unnoticed by the arguing men. Suddenly, the tension was broken by a sharp, violent cracking sound coming from the dense tree line bordering the property.

Everyone turned their heads.

A massive wild boar burst through the thick bushes. Its coarse black hair was covered in dirt. Its small eyes were wide and panicked. Two sharp, yellowed tusks curved out from its snout. It was breathing heavily, snorting loud, aggressive breaths.

The beast locked its eyes on the group of humans. It lowered its head and charged.

The trajectory was a straight line directly toward Delois, who was still kneeling in the grass.

Delois stared at the approaching tusks. Pure, paralyzing terror flooded her veins. Her legs turned to lead. She couldn't command her muscles to stand up.

The boar closed the distance in seconds.

Just as the beast was about to ram into her ribs, a large, calloused hand clamped down on her upper arm with bone-crushing force.

Bart gritted his teeth. The veins in his neck bulged as he violently yanked her backward and shoved her behind his own body.

The boar blew past them. The foul smell of wet animal hair washed over Delois's face.

The beast missed them by inches and slammed headfirst into the old wooden fence bordering the yard.

The impact sounded like a gunshot. The rotting wood splintered and collapsed in a cloud of dust and debris. The boar shook its massive head, dazed by the collision. It let out a confused squeal, turned clumsily, and limped back into the safety of the trees.

The entire sequence lasted less than five seconds.

The yard was dead silent, save for the sound of harsh, ragged breathing.

Bart was still gripping Delois's arm. His chest rose and fell rapidly. He looked down at her. His dark eyes were wide, stripped of their usual mockery, revealing a raw, unfiltered panic that he had almost lost her.

Delois looked up at the sharp angle of his jaw. Her own heart was beating so fast it felt like a hummingbird trapped in her throat.

Before either of them could speak, the screech of tires ripped through the air.

A polished sedan slammed to a halt right behind Bart's rusted pickup. The driver's door flew open.

Jessi Hawkins stepped out. Her high heels sank slightly into the dirt. Her perfectly styled hair bounced as she marched furiously toward the yard.

Jessi's eyes locked onto her son. She saw him covered in mud, standing in enemy territory, his hand wrapped tightly around Delois Thornton's arm.

Jessi's face twisted in pure disgust. She marched right up to them, raised her hands, and shoved Delois hard in the chest.

Delois stumbled backward, breaking Bart's grip.

"Get your hands off my son, you shameless little tramp!" Jessi shrieked, her voice echoing down the street. "Haven't you caused enough trouble trying to hook a city boy? Now you're throwing yourself at Bart?"

The screen door of the Thornton house slammed open with the force of a gunshot.

Blanca charged down the wooden porch steps. She still held a greasy metal spatula tightly in her right fist. She moved with the terrifying speed and aggression of a mother bear protecting her cub.

Blanca grabbed Delois by the shoulders and yanked her backward, placing her own sturdy body firmly between her daughter and Jessi Hawkins.

Blanca raised the spatula, pointing the metal edge directly at the tip of Jessi's nose. Her chest heaved with fury.

"Shut your filthy mouth, Jessi!" Blanca yelled, her voice vibrating with raw anger. "Don't you dare come onto my property and put your hands on my daughter!"

Jessi didn't flinch. She straightened her spine, pushing her chest out. She looked Blanca up and down with an expression of absolute contempt.

"Your daughter is a joke, Blanca," Jessi sneered, her voice dripping with venom. "The whole town knows she threw herself in the river because that city boy wouldn't look twice at her. And now she's trying to drag my son down into the mud with her."

Blanca let out a sharp, bitter laugh. Her grip on the spatula tightened until her knuckles turned stark white.

"Your son?" Blanca mocked loudly. "Your son is a violent street thug who does nothing but get into bar fights! He's the one trespassing on my land!"

The sheer volume of their screaming acted like a siren. Across the street, curtains twitched. Front doors creaked open. Neighbors stepped out onto their porches, crossing their arms, their eyes wide with eager anticipation.

Jessi noticed the audience. Her face flushed a deep, angry red. Her perfectly manicured fingers curled into tight fists. She decided to go for the throat.

"At least my son isn't a product of a manipulative, desperate family!" Jessi screamed, making sure every person in the crowd heard her. "We all know exactly what kind of blood runs in your veins, Blanca! You've been using dirty, underhanded tricks since we were girls, and now you're teaching your daughter to do the exact same thing!"

A collective, low gasp rippled through the watching neighbors. The older residents leaned in, their eyes gleaming at the mention of the decades-old scandal.

Blanca's eyes narrowed into dangerous slits. A cold, cruel smile spread across her lips.

"Underhanded tricks?" Blanca laughed, the sound harsh and grating. "You're just projecting your own pathetic history onto my daughter! You couldn't trap the man you wanted back then, so you settled for whoever could buy you those cheap pearls around your neck! Don't you stand there and act like a victim, Jessi! You're nothing but a bitter, jealous woman who can't stand the sight of us!"

Jessi's face drained of color, then rapidly flooded with a dark, mottled purple. She let out an incoherent shriek of pure rage.

The argument completely derailed. The two women began hurling decades of buried resentment, jealousy, and ugly secrets at each other like verbal grenades.

Behind Blanca, Gonzalo and the brothers stood like a wall of muscle. They couldn't jump into a fight between older women, but they glared at Jessi, their bodies tense and ready to intervene.

Bart stood beside his mother. His face was a mask of dark, thunderous anger. His jaw was locked so tight a muscle ticked violently in his cheek. He stared at the ground, his chest tight with a suffocating sense of humiliation.

He reached out and grabbed Jessi's elbow, his grip firm.

"Mom. Stop. Let's go," Bart ordered, his voice a low, dangerous rumble.

Jessi violently jerked her arm out of his grasp. "Don't tell me what to do!" she snapped at him, before turning back to hurl another insult at Blanca.

Delois stood trapped behind her mother. The screaming voices pounded against her eardrums. The adrenaline from the boar attack was fading, leaving behind a sickening wave of dizziness.

The dull ache in the back of her head suddenly flared into a blinding, stabbing agony. The world tilted on its axis.

She watched her mother drop the spatula. She saw Jessi drop her expensive leather purse. Both women raised their hands, their fingers curling into claws, ready to physically tear each other's hair out.

If they fought, the blood feud would be sealed forever. The town would never let them forget it.

Delois knew she had to stop it. She closed her eyes, took a shallow breath, and decided to fake a fainting spell to break the tension.

She let her knees buckle. She allowed her body to go limp, falling backward.

But her spatial awareness was completely ruined by the concussion. She misjudged her position.

Instead of landing on the soft grass, her heel caught the edge of the bottom wooden porch step.

Her body twisted violently out of control. Gravity ripped her downward.

The back of Delois's head hit the flat surface of the wooden step with a dull, heavy thud.

A blinding flash of white light exploded behind Delois's eyes, instantly followed by a crushing, suffocating darkness. Her body went completely limp, sliding off the step and collapsing into a heap on the ground.

The chaotic screaming in the yard stopped instantly. The silence that followed was absolute and terrifying.

Blanca froze for a fraction of a second. Then, a sound tore from her throat-a raw, guttural scream of pure maternal terror. She threw herself onto the dirt, her hands frantically grabbing at Delois's pale face.

Jessi gasped, taking a sudden, frightened step backward. Her hands flew up to cover her mouth.

Gonzalo let out a roar. He shoved past his mother, his massive hands gently but swiftly scooping Delois's lifeless body off the ground.

When the dull thud registered in Bart's ears, his heart stopped beating.

His body reacted on pure, primal instinct. His right foot slammed forward into the mud. His arms reached out, desperate to catch her, to pull her up, to check if she was breathing.

But he stopped.

He saw Gonzalo already lifting her. He saw the sheer hatred in the brothers' eyes. He saw Blanca weeping over her.

Bart's boots felt like they were nailed to the earth. His hands dropped to his sides, curling into fists so tight his fingernails bit into his own palms, drawing tiny drops of blood. His chest felt like it was being crushed in a vice.

Gonzalo turned, holding his sister tight against his chest. He shot one last, murderous glare at Bart and Jessi, then sprinted up the steps and kicked the front door open.

Blanca scrambled up and ran after them. The heavy wooden door slammed shut, the sound echoing like a final judgment.

The yard was empty, save for Bart, Jessi, and the lingering stares of the neighbors.

Jessi stood frozen, her face pale. She swallowed hard, trying to regain her composure. She bent down, grabbed her purse from the dirt, and brushed it off with shaking hands.

"Good riddance," Jessi muttered, her voice lacking its previous venom, sounding more like nervous justification. "Come on, Bart. Get in the truck. Let's get out of this cursed place."

She grabbed Bart's bicep and pulled.

Bart didn't resist. He let his mother drag him toward the rusted Ford. But his eyes remained locked on the wooden porch step.

Right on the sharp edge of the wood, catching the sunlight, was a fresh, dark smear of blood.

Bart climbed into the passenger seat. Jessi slammed the door shut behind him, sealing them in the cramped, stuffy cabin of the truck.

Jessi started the engine. The truck lurched forward, speeding away from the Thornton property.

The silence in the cab lasted only a minute before Jessi started talking. She ranted about Blanca's insanity, about how Delois was just putting on a dramatic show, about how the whole family was a disease.

Bart leaned his head back against the cracked vinyl seat. He closed his eyes. He didn't hear a single word his mother said.

His brain was trapped in a relentless, agonizing loop.

He saw Delois throwing her arms wide, putting her own fragile body between him and Gonzalo's massive fist. He felt the sudden, shocking impact of her weight crashing down on him.

And then, the memory he was trying desperately to kill forced its way to the front of his mind.

The press of her lips against his. The impossible softness of her mouth. The faint, clean scent of lemon soap that clung to her skin, cutting through the smell of the mud and the river water.

Bart's eyes snapped open. His breathing grew harsh and shallow. He raised both hands and dug his fingers violently into his dark hair, pulling at the roots.

He was Bart Hawkins. He didn't care about anyone. He especially didn't care about the daughter of his mother's worst enemy. She was annoying. She was stupid. She chased after city boys.

But his heart was currently beating a frantic, painful rhythm against his ribs. The image of her blood on the wood made his stomach twist into a sick, tight knot.

He turned his head and stared blankly out the passenger window. A dark, angry flush crept up his neck and settled on the tips of his ears.

He cursed himself silently. He was losing control, and it terrified him.