“We go now,” Dante said.

He signaled to Gregory.

“Secure the trucks and bring the van,” Dante ordered.

“Mara and I will take the trail through the timber.”

I patted Vesper’s damp neck.

Her muscles trembled under my palms, but she was steady.

“Can she run?” Dante asked.

“She wants this as much as I do,” I said.

The rain had slowed to a cold, stinging drizzle.

We rode through the dark pines, the hooves of our horses muffled by the thick pine needles.

Vesper moved with a long, powerful stride.

My old stirrup leather rubbed against my boot, a familiar, biting ache.

I remembered the last time I had been on this trail, five years ago.

Sterling had blamed me for the death of his prized stallion.

It was a lie to cover up his own insurance fraud.

He had ruined my name and left me with nothing but the clothes on my back.

Now, the dark silhouette of the Sterling Equestrian Center rose ahead.

It was a massive facility of whitewashed brick and green tin roofs.

Floodlights bathed the main courtyard in a harsh, white glare.