Page 74 of Savage Reins
"God in heaven,"Batyawhispers, his face gone white. "What have we done?"
The announcer calls the official results over the speaker system, confirming what everyone saw. The horse they believe to be Thunder's Shadow has won by three lengths. The real Thunder's Shadow, running under Rusalka's number, finished third.
To everyone watching, it looks like a stunning victory, exactly what they expected. But I know the truth.
Across the track, I see Renat push away from the pillar where he'd been standing. Even from this distance, his movementsradiate violence and rage. His hands clench into fists at his sides. Vadim grabs his arm, mouth moving in urgent words, but Renat shrugs him off with enough force to send the older man stumbling backward.
And then Renat's walking. Not toward the winner's circle where protocol demands he should go, but toward the stewards' office with murder written across his shoulders.
"I have to get to him." I turn away from the rail, butBatya's grip tightens on my arm.
"Mira, no. You stay away from that man."
"Batya, you don't understand. When he finds out what we did?—"
"When he finds out, we'll both be dead."Batya's voice cracks with exhaustion and fear. "At least here you might have a chance."
I pull free fromBatya's grasp and push into the crowd. Bodies press against me from all sides—men in expensive suits celebrating their winnings, women clutching programs and betting slips, children wide-eyed at the spectacle.
But I force my way through them, fighting against the tide of humanity flowing toward the winner's circle. Every step takes me closer to the stewards' building and whatever confrontation is building inside those concrete walls.
"Mira!"Batya's voice follows me, but I don't turn back. Can't turn back. Every second I delay gives Vadim more time to enact his sentence. He'll kill Renat.
The crowd parts ahead of me as security rushes toward a commotion near the paddock area. Through the chaos, I catch glimpses of familiar figures—broad shoulders in expensive suits, Vadim's unmistakable profile. They're moving with purpose toward a maintenance building behind the grandstand.
My blood turns cold. This isn't heading toward what's supposed to happen. They're going to kill him.
I push harder through the dispersing crowd, elbowing past spectators still celebrating their winnings. The maintenance building sits in shadow, tucked away from the main track facilities. No cameras here. No witnesses.
The kind of place where conversations end badly.
I reach the building as voices explode from inside. Not the controlled anger I expected, but raw fury barely contained by concrete walls.
"—told you this would happen!" Vadim's voice carries through the thin door, sharp with accusation. "Told you she couldn't be trusted!"
"The race isn't over." Renat's reply comes lower, more controlled, but I can hear the tension coiling beneath each word. "The results?—"
"The results are final." Vadim cuts him off. "Your horse lost, Renat. Third place. The Karpins aren't going to accept that."
A crash echoes from inside—furniture overturning, glass breaking. When Vadim speaks again, his voice has dropped to the dangerous whisper I remember from the night they ordered him to burn our barn.
"Dima knows the horse failed. He knows you convinced us to delay the destruction of that ranch. And now he wants blood to make up for the disappointment." Another sound—this time the unmistakable noise of a body hitting the wall. Hard.
"You think I'm afraid of the Karpins?" Renat's voice has gone deadly quiet. "You think I won't tear Dima's throat out with my bare hands?"
"I think you're a dead man." Vadim's reply leaves no room for argument. "The race was never about winning, you fool. It was about proving the ranch had value. About showing the Petrovs we could produce champions on demand. Instead, you let that little whore manipulate you into believing her animal could actually compete, and she failed."
The sound that comes from inside the building raises every hair on my arms. Not quite human, not quite animal, pure rage given voice. Renat's growl erupts before I hear him shout.
"Don't." Renat's voice has gone completely flat. "Don't call her that."
"Call her what? What she is? A lying little?—"
The next crash is louder, followed by a grunt of pain. But Vadim's voice continues, breathless now but still venomous.
"She played you, Renat. Made you think with your cock instead of your brain. And now the Karpins are coming for all of us. They'll hit the ranch first—burn it to the ground, kill everyone on the property. Then they'll come for you."
My hand finds the door handle, turning it slowly. The hinges creak as I push it open just enough to see inside.
