Avalon
Delia was a frantic mess—a complete contrast to the glowing bride she’d been only minutes earlier. Her hands flew as fast as her words, and Clarke and I had to practically jog to keep up with her.
“—and they said they’re moving them tonight. They’ll be in New Mexico by morning.”
Clarke grabbed her by the arms, grounding her. “Who, Delia? Who is being moved?”
“The horses, Clarke!” she burst out. “From the slaughterhouse. Colton’s been tracking Hanover’s movements, and he just got tipped off they’re being moved tonight.”
Her voice shook, panic bright in her eyes. “They’ll be dead by tomorrow night.”
“No.” Clarke stepped back, her face draining of color. “We were supposed to have more time. We needed more time.”
Delia blinked, confusion overtaking her panic. “You knew about this? You and Colton? What does Ethan know? Does she—” She jabbed a finger at me.
I held up my hands. “I’m going to be honest with you both—I have no idea what’s happening right now.”
Clarke shook her head. “I overheard them talking days ago. I wasn’t supposed to know what they were planning—”
“What are they planning?” Delia demanded. “Clarke, what is my husband about to do?”
“We don’t have time for this.” Clarke brushed past her, snatching her keys off a nearby table. “If the shipment is moving tonight, Delia’s right—those animals will be dead by supper tomorrow.”
She stormed toward the barn. “I’m going to do something someone should’ve had the balls to do years ago.”
Inside the barn, Clarke was already unhooking her saddle from the wall, movements sharp and furious. There was a fire in her eyes I’d never seen before—wild, dangerous, righteous.
“What are you doing?” I asked, though the answer was obvious.
“I’m saving those horses,” she snapped. “What do you think I’m doing? I can’t wait for tomorrow or whenever my dad decides to get the authorities involved.”
I nodded, grabbed the nearest saddle, and hefted it into my arms—barely.
Clarke froze. “Okay, now it’s my turn. What are you doing?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” I gestured between the saddle and myself. “You can’t do this alone.”
She crossed her arms. “Yes, I can. And I’m breaking the law—I don’t think you want to be involved—”
Balancing the saddle on one arm, I placed my free hand over hers. “You don’t have to do this by yourself. That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. And I love breaking the law. You must not really know me.”
Clarke laughed—a short, surprised sound—and I smiled.
“I mean it,” I said softly. “You want to do everything alone, but as long as I’m around, you won’t have to. I won’t let you.”
A blush crept across her cheeks, blooming warm and pink. “Well… if you’re helping, you need a different saddle.”
I looked down at the one in my arms. “What’s wrong with this one?”
“That’s for English riding—the stuck-up, big-city kind.” She grunted as she lifted it from my arms and hung it back on the wall. “This one—” she grabbed a heavier, broader saddle “—is for Western riding.”
I followed her to Apollo’s stall, trying not to make it obvious how much I was struggling under the weight. Clarke entered slowly, hand outstretched. Apollo sniffed her palm, found no treats, and returned to his feed bucket.
Without a word, she took the saddle from me and set it on the blanket. Saving these horses meant everything to her—enough to risk her reputation, her safety, her future.
Would her parents understand? Would they be proud? Would mine?
The sound of boots on concrete snapped me from my thoughts. Colton appeared first, cream hat low over a face carved with anger and determination. Ethan followed, jaw tight, brows drawn low. I’d never seen either of them like this—and it scared me.
Delia trailed behind them, red hair wild. “Clarke, I didn’t mean to tell, but you know how hard it is for me—especially when I know you could be putting yourself in danger.”
“I’m not going to be in danger,” Clarke said sharply, though her voice trembled at the edges.
I noticed. I always noticed.
“I’m going with her,” I said firmly, directing the words at Colton. “She won’t be doing this alone.”
His blue eyes snapped to me, and I immediately wanted to curl into a ball and roll away like a potato bug.
“Oh, you’re going with her? Wow, that makes me feel so much better.” He leaned forward. “Tell me—are you going to leave her when it starts to feel too real again?”
The words hit like a slap. I blinked once. Twice. Hard. It didn’t hurt. It didn’t hurt. It didn’t hurt.
I inhaled deeply. Delia gasped. Clarke froze. Ethan murmured something to his friend.
“Either help us,” I said, voice trembling but steady, “or get the fuck out of my way. You can hate me for what I did, but right now we’re wasting time. These animals don’t care what happened eight months ago. If we don’t save them, they will die.”
Silence fell. Clarke looked like she wanted to applaud.
Colton exhaled, rubbing a hand over his mustache. “You’re right. I’m—”
“I’d rather you didn’t,” I cut in. I didn’t need an apology he didn’t mean.
The group split, saddling their horses. Fifteen minutes later, all five of us were riding toward Hanover’s stables.
We kept a steady pace, me bringing up the rear on Apollo. The golden horse did his best to keep me upright, though I could tell he wanted to race ahead.
What was I doing? I could barely ride. How was I supposed to help free a dozen horses from a notorious exotic-meats dealer?
Adrenaline? Loyalty? Stupidity? Whatever it was, it burned through me like wildfire.
Hanover Stables was nothing more than the skeletal remains of an old derby barn, miles outside town. After what felt like an hour of riding, we reached a small hill overlooking the property.
The group discussed the plan—Ethan wanted a perimeter, Clarke wanted to charge in, Colton wanted her to stay behind if she got emotional.
With me. They didn’t say it out loud, but I heard it anyway. Why was I here? What did I have to offer? I was just another liability.
“It’s okay,” Delia said loudly, cutting through the tension. “Avalon and I will stay here and watch for Hanover’s men. Ethan and Colton will break the lock. Clarke will guide the horses into the hills.”
Her green eyes were sharp beneath her hat. She was still in her wedding dress—the hem muddy and torn. Clarke’s white dress was nearly as filthy.
This meant something to them. These horses weren’t just animals—they were Opal Springs’ heart. We could not screw this up.
Delia continued, “Once they’re out of the hills, we lead them to the mountains. Hanover would be an idiot to follow them up there.”
“They’ll be free,” Clarke whispered.
Colton frowned. “Why not just take them home?”
“You know why,” Clarke snapped. “That’s the first place they’ll look. In the wild, they’re safe.”
She turned away, jaw tight. “We need to go. Now.”