Page 117 of Hidden Memories

“One step at a time,” he murmurs against my hair, voice rough with exhaustion. “I got you. We all got you.”

I believe him.

I really do.

I have Santi. Anton. Gabriel. Rio. Julia. Enzo, Ava and the entire GhostEye team are working on this. I’m not alone anymore.

But strength isn’t just about who stands beside you.

It’s about what happens when they’re not there.

I grip Santi’s shirt a little tighter, stealing a moment of borrowed strength, and he pulls me closer to his warm, strong chest.

Just one more second. Then, I take a breath.

This time I’m not just surviving.

I’m ready to fight.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

PRESENT

Something’s off this morning.

I feel it before I even step outside, a slow, creeping wrongness threading through my bones. It doesn’t shout—it breathes, whisper-soft and insidious, curling around my ribs, settling heavy in my chest. The kind of feeling I know better than to ignore.

Not the cold. Not exhaustion. Not last night’s news.

Something else.

Something unseen.

After watching the early morning runs on thetrack and having a meeting with Bran, I push open the barn door, the hinges groaning loudly in the silence. Too loud. Too sharp. The usual morning sounds should be here—the shuffle of horses in their stalls, the low huff of breath from Mila as she trails behind me—but the air is too still. Like the land itself is holding its breath.

Inside, the familiar scent of horses—that earthy, grain-laced musk wraps around me. For a moment it centers me. But the peace doesn’t last. There’s a tension in my muscles that won’t ease, an itch in my gut that tells me to listen. Not to the quiet, but to what’s missing.

Peace.

Monarch Hills was built for it, promised it. Enzo found his in steel gates and security cameras. Rio has his in boardrooms and rising stock prices. My dad has it in retirement, in the quiet predictability of days spent with the animals.

But me?

I’m standing in the middle of it, and I don’t feel a goddamn thing.

My mind churns with everything Gabriel and Anton revealed last night—those stolen documents, the burner phone, the cryptic initials M and D. It’s like Nic left behind a labyrinth of secrets, and each step we take only deepens the maze.

Then I hear my girl.

Her voice filters through the barn, a quiet but sure greeting to a passing ranch hand, and the sound of her tethers me back to the moment. When I spot her, she’s in the tack room, reaching for Fuego’s grooming kit, her cardigan slipping low on one shoulder. Sunlight catches on her skin, turning it gold.

And just like that, everything else fades—the Mafia,the ghosts of Nic’s past, the crush of it all bearing down on us. There’s only her. She roots me to the spot.

My chest tightens, but it’s not just desire—it’s the gnawing fear that we’re in over our heads.

“You’re up early,” I say, leaning against the doorframe.

She glances over her shoulder at me, a faint smile softening her features “You said I could ride anytime. After you headed over here, your dad came around with coffees from Café Luna and offered to dig for worms with Theo in one of the muck heaps.” She blows a wispy tendril off her forehead. “Luis is a great guy. You’re lucky.”

---