Thorn in the West
Copyright© 2025 by Heel
Chapter 13: Viper’s Strike
The desert canyon shimmered under the brutal midday sun. Dust swirled in the dry wind, brushing against Mika Thorn’s sweat-streaked face and stinging her eyes. Her broken leg throbbed with every movement, her shoulder a constant, gnawing ache. She leaned heavily on her crutches, each step a calculated risk, every step a gamble against the jagged rocks and narrow ledges that lined the canyon floor.
Hours earlier, she had arrived to survey the terrain. Now, she was alone, no traps, no clever diversion, no advantage—just her revolver tucked snugly in her belt and the instinct that had kept her alive this long.
At the canyon’s far end, Red Nolan appeared, stepping casually over a cluster of stones. The man looked like a predator at ease in his territory: knife in one hand, pistol in the other, eyes scanning the canyon without concern. He did not know her, had never seen her before. To him, she was small, crippled, weak—and utterly harmless.
“Well, well,” he called, his voice bouncing off the canyon walls. “What do we have here? A little cripple wandering alone in my canyon. How brave. Or foolish. I’ll give you points for courage ... and points for cuteness.”
Mika’s jaw tightened, lips pressed in a thin line. Every nerve in her body screamed danger. Dust and loose stones shifted under her crutches as she took careful, painful steps forward. Nolan laughed and took another step, his smirk widening, clearly imagining the end already written.
<The heat shimmered in waves above the rocks. Wind hissed through narrow cracks, carrying the faint scent of sand and sweat. Every movement felt like hours; her muscles screamed, but she forced herself to focus, to wait.
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