I began wrapping the clean white bandage around Vesper’s hock, pulling it snug but not too tight.

“Why?” I asked, securing the medical tape with my thumb. “Vesper is a magnificent animal. Why hurt him to get to you?”

Dante didn’t answer right away.

He stroked Vesper’s velvet nose, his expression softening in a way I hadn’t seen since he walked into my diner.

“He wasn’t my horse,” Dante said softly.

I paused, looking up from the bandage, my hands resting on the horse’s leg.

“He belonged to Leo,” Dante continued, his voice barely louder than the hum of the emergency lights.

“Your brother?”

Dante nodded once, his eyes fixed on the horse’s dark, intelligent gaze.

“Leo was killed six months ago in an ambush near the docks,” he said. “The family wanted to sell Vesper. They saw him as an expensive liability.”

He looked into the horse’s eyes, his hand lingering on the animal’s forehead.

“But Vesper was the only thing Leo left behind. I promised my brother I would keep him safe.”

The weight of his words hung heavily in the cool, silent air of the stable.