Page 122 of Hidden Memories

I grab Fuego’s grooming kit and walk him from his stallto some crossties outside the barn so I can be closer to where Theo is. Here, occasional giggles float to me, adding joy to my simple moment.

I run a brush through Fuego’s tail, wondering if I could still manage a Dutch braid, and suddenly, a sharp pang of unease grips my chest.

I glance over to the muck heap and can’t hear Luis and Theo anymore.

He’s fine, I tell myself. He’s probably knee deep in mud…

My hands move the brush, but it’s absent-minded. I can’t shake the chill that whispers across my skin.

I glance toward the heap again. Still no voices.

Maybe they went to the barn for another container…

Theo’s fine, I tell myself.

He’s playing.

But my body doesn’t believe a word.

Chapter Thirty-One

PRESENT

The sun glares too bright,too harsh, bleaching the land in a way that makes my skin crawl. A hum of unease threads through my ribs like barbed wire. The horses shift restlessly in their stalls, ears flicking, nostrils flaring. A metal gate latch clangs shut in the distance; the sound sharp as a gunshot. Everything feels off-balance like the earth itself is tilting beneath my feet.

I wipe my hands on my jeans, stepping out of the barn, my gaze sweeping across the yard. Theo’s laughter rings out from behind the muck heap—high,carefree, sharp against the quiet. Dad’s with him, guiding him through their treasure hunt like they have all the time in the world.

It should ease me. It doesn’t.

The weight in my stomach grows heavier and heavier.

Something’s coming. I just don’t know from where.

Kat stands a few feet away with Fuego on the cross ties but she’s stopped grooming him.

Her arms are crossed over her chest. She hasn’t so much as blinked, her blue stare fixed on nothing in particular but there’s a focus there nevertheless. Tension radiates off her like a second skin. I go to her side.

“You’ve been standing here for five minutes,” I kiss her hair.

She glances at me, forcing a meek smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. “Just thinking.”

There’s a worry she’s trying to bury. Before I can press her, the crunch of tires on gravel grabs both of our attention. A dark green Monarch Hills pickup rolls up next to us, its paint dulled by dust.

One of my guards has an arm hanging out the window and a baseball cap shades his face.

“Damon,” I greet him with a nod. “Everything all right?”

“Routine check,” he says, his tone gruff but casual. “Making the rounds. Better safe than sorry.”

I nod and he carries on driving off to the fence line behind the muck heap where he’ll follow the boundary for checks. But something about him feels off.

Damon is new here, but he’s been solid. Reliable. No hesitation, no bullshit.

Until today.

His movements were stiff like he was holding somethingback. His words were the same but the tone? Too clipped. Too careful.

I can’t leave anything to chance. My body reacts, rushing to the muck heap where Theo is supposed to be. And then…

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