Chapter 3: The Mighty Quinn

Zack

Her scream cut through the late-afternoon heat like a blade.

I was near the stream when I heard it ... Caroline’s voice, sharp with real fear, not the controlled volume she used on camera. I immediately ran. Branches tore at my arms. The jungle closed in thick and green, the air heavy with the smell of earth and leaves. Insects droned. Somewhere overhead a bird shrieked and then went silent. My lungs burned. I crashed into the clearing just as a sleek and muscular black panther crouched low in front of her. Glossy black fur drank the dappled light. Yellow eyes fixed on Caroline with terrible focus. She had her back to a thick tree, a broken branch gripped in both hands like a spear, her eyes wide but her jaw set. The panther’s tail lashed. It shifted its weight forward, shoulders rolling under that liquid black coat.

Something inside me that I usually kept locked away suddenly cracked wide open.

I didn’t think. I grabbed the heaviest rock I could find and charged ... screaming like a man who had lost every careful calculation he’d ever made. The panther spun toward the new noise, ears flattening. I threw. The rock cracked hard against its shoulder with a solid, sickening thud. It snarled, startled, lips peeling back from white teeth. I snatched a fallen branch and swung it in wild, desperate arcs, pure noise coming out of my throat ... rage and terror and the absolute refusal to watch her die. Leaves exploded under my feet. The panther hesitated, muscles coiling. I advanced another step, still screaming, still swinging, the branch whistling through humid air. For one endless second it held its ground, yellow eyes locked on mine.

Then it must have decided we just weren’t worth the fight. With a final low, vibrating growl it turned and melted back into the green like smoke, black fur vanishing between the trunks until there was nothing left but the trembling of leaves.

Silence slammed down, broken only by the distant crash of waves and my own ragged breathing.

Caroline slid down the trunk until she was sitting in the dirt, the branch falling from her hands. I dropped mine and went to my knees in front of her, shaking so hard my vision tunneled. The smell of crushed vegetation filled my nose. Somewhere nearby water dripped steadily from a leaf.

She stared at me like she was seeing someone new.

“You charged a fucking panther,” she said, voice rough.

“I know. Don’t remind me.”

“You absolute idiot.” Then she pulled me in and held on tight, forehead against my neck, breathing hard. Her heart hammered against my chest. Or maybe that was mine. “You beautiful, ridiculous man. You came for me.”

We stayed like that until the shaking stopped.

That night after dinner, our hut felt smaller. The fire outside threw low orange light through the gaps in the walls, painting everything in warm shadow. The jungle pressed close with insects singing, leaves rustling in the night breeze, and the distant, constant hush of the ocean. Caroline sat close, watching me with an expression I couldn’t quite get a read on.

“You saved my life today,” she said quietly.

“You would’ve handled it.”

“Maybe.” She reached out and touched my face, thumb brushing my cheek. “You’re young. You’re supposed to be scared of everything. Instead you came for me without hesitating. Zack ... I’ve decided I want to thank you properly. If you’ll let me.”

I nodded, not trusting my voice. My heart was already slamming against my ribs at the implication alone. Caroline Quinn. The woman half the men of America wanted. Looking at me like that.