Page 56 of Savage Reins
She lifts her head when I approach, dark eyes alert despite the early hour. I run my hands down her front legs, checking each tendon with care. Things could fall apart so quickly. We really can't be too careful. Her coat ripples under my touch, muscles firm and ready beneath the surface. She's strong. She's fast. But is she fast enough to save us all?
The question follows me as I fill water buckets and measure grain into feed pans. Each task feels heavier than it should, weighted down by the memory of last night. The sound of that gunshot. The way the man crumpled to the ground. The way Renat lowered his weapon without a tremor in his hand.
I should feel grateful. That man came here to hurt Rusalka, to destroy everything we've worked for. Renat protected us. Hesaved the horse. But when I close my eyes, all I see is the cold certainty in his expression as he pulled the trigger.
No hesitation. No regret. Just a job that needed doing.
My father's warning echoes in my mind.These men will take everything from you, Mira. Everything.
The grain bucket slips from my numb fingers and hits the ground with a metallic clang. Rusalka jerks her head up, ears forward, and I realize my hands are shaking.
"Sorry, girl." I bend to scoop the scattered feed back into the bucket, but my movements feel clumsy and foreign. "Sorry."
She watches me with that calm intelligence horses possess, as if she can sense the storm building inside me. I pour her grain into the feeder and step back, wrapping my arms around myself against the morning chill.
I love him.
The thought arrives without warning, brutal in its honesty. I love Renat Vetrov, and that terrifies me more than the threats his family has made. Because loving him means accepting what he is. What he does. The violence that lives in his hands as naturally as tenderness.
The barn door opens behind me, and I know without turning that it's him. I recognize his footsteps, the way he moves through space with that quiet control. Part of me wants to run. Part of me wants to turn around and fall into his arms and pretend last night never happened.
Instead, I keep my back to him and focus on Rusalka's morning routine.
"You're up early," he says.
"Horses don't care what time I went to bed."
He doesn't answer right away, and I can feel him watching me. I check Rusalka's water bucket even though I filled it ten minutes ago. I adjust her blanket even though it doesn't needadjusting. Anything to keep my hands busy and my eyes away from his face.
"Mira."
The way he says my name makes my chest tighten. It's soft, careful, as if I might shatter if he speaks too loudly.
"The horse needs exercise." I unlatch Rusalka's stall and clip a lead rope to her halter. "The race is in four days."
"Look at me."
I can't. If I look at him, I'll see the man who held me in his arms and whispered promises in the dark. I'll see the way his eyes soften when he watches me work with the horses. I'll see everything I want him to be instead of everything he is.
Rusalka follows me toward the barn door, hooves clapping against the concrete floor. Renat steps aside to let us pass, but I feel the heat of his body as we brush past him.
"Mira, we need to talk."
"No, we don't."
"About last night?—"
"There's nothing to talk about." I lead Rusalka into the paddock and close the gate behind us. The morning air bites at my cheeks. "You did what you had to do."
"Did I?"
The question stops me cold. I turn to face him through the fence rails, and the expression on his face isn't what I expected. No cold certainty. No satisfaction. Just exhaustion that runs bone-deep.
"He was going to hurt the horse," I say.
"I know."
"He was going to destroy everything."
