Her lips were warm and soft against my skin.

I placed the saddle on her back, tightening the girth gently.

Dante walked into the barn, dressed in riding boots and a dark jacket.

The hard lines of his face had softened over the weeks, the shadow of the syndicate fading from his eyes.

“The trails are clear today,” he said.

“The weather is perfect,” I replied.

He led his gray gelding out of the stall, the horse walking quietly beside him.

We led our horses out into the bright afternoon sun.

The sky was a deep, cloudless blue.

I mounted Vesper, feeling her immense power beneath me as she stood steady.

Dante swung into his saddle beside me.

“Where are we going?” he asked, a quiet smile on his face.

“The high ridge,” I said. “We can see the whole valley from there.”

We urged our horses forward, heading toward the open pastures.

Vesper moved with a long, easy stride, her ears forward, completely at peace.

I looked back at the sanctuary, the neat barns, and the quiet pastures where other horses were now grazing.

It was a place of healing now.

Dante rode close to my side, his stirrup brushing mine.

“You did this, Mara,” he said.

“We did,” I said.

We pressed our horses into a trot, then a smooth, rhythmic canter.

The wind rushed past my face, cool and clean.

For the first time in my life, I was not running from the past.

I was riding toward the future.