He reached out and took Vesper’s reins from my hand.

“We need to move,” he said. “Now.”

I looked at the wounded mercenary on the floor.

“What about him?” I asked.

“Leave him,” Dante said. “His friends will find him, or my men will.”

He led Vesper out into the dark, and I followed closely behind his shoulder.

The cool rain hit my face, shocking my senses back into focus.

We walked toward the back of the main stable block, where a heavy iron door led to the private garage.

Dante kept his gun raised, scanning the shadows of the tree line.

“Vance knew you were here?” Dante asked as we walked.

“No,” I said. “He couldn’t have. I changed my name. I worked at a roadside diner.”

“He knew,” Dante said. “The mercenary said Vance knew you were the only one who could fix the horse.”

I stopped in my tracks on the wet gravel.

The cold realization hit me like a physical blow.

Someone had told him.

Someone had watched me at the diner and reported back.

“Felix,” I whispered.