Page 115 of Holding Hope

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.”

Hestia’s agitated gait told me she was just as anxious to get this over with as I was. She’d been restless all night—well, all morning. We’d left the wedding just after one a.m., driven the half hour home, tacked up the horses, and ridden another hour to Hanover’s.

Now, at nearly four in the morning, the slow September sun was beginning to rise, painting the hills in deep pink. My breath fogged in front of me, clouds drifting into the cold air. Around us, the same pale puffs left the mouths of my companions.

Colton and Ethan had already taken their positions farther down the hill. The barn that housed the horses wasn’t fully padlocked — the rusty lock had been easy enough to pry off. Up the slope to my left, Avalon and Delia acted as scouts, keeping sharp eyes out for Hanover or any of his men.

If Colton was right—if Hanover really planned to ship the horses to New Mexico tonight—then they’d need to be loading them soon. Any minute now.

So where were they? Was this luck? Or something worse? A sharp whistle cut through the quiet from the far end of the barn. I pulled Hestia into position—the mark I’d chosen. I would stay here until the second whistle. Then I’d haul ass up the mountain, trusting the others to follow.

Colton and Ethan would bring up the rear, keeping the herd in formation. Delia and Avalon would cover the sides. I’d lead the front.

It was a solid plan. A good plan.

Colton whistled again. This was it. The ground began to tremble beneath Hestia’s hooves.

“C’mon, old girl,” I whispered into the cool air. She blinked, the bit clicking behind her teeth. “They’re coming.”

The rumbling grew louder—heavier—until it vibrated through my bones. Any second now. Digging my heels into Hestia’s sides, I shouted a command and launched her forward.

The field exploded around us. A young mustang’s dark mane whipped in the wind as it galloped behind me, kicking up dirt and wheat husks. It wasn’t running toward me—it was dancing. Free. Wild. Untamed.

The sight stole my breath. I wanted to slow Hestia, to watch the mustang’s victory dance beneath the pink sky—but angry shouting snapped my attention to the right.

Hanover’s men. Trucks barreled toward us, trailers rattling behind them. Men hung out of the doors, yelling and cursing. Others jumped out and tried to chase us on foot.

One tripped over a clump of grass and face-planted into the dirt. I barked out a laugh.

A dappled horse surged past me, shaking its head triumphantly. It was beautiful—wearing freedom like a second coat. Behind me, the herd thundered forward, neighing and whinnying in a chorus of exhilaration.

I slowed Hestia to a trot, letting the wild horse and my brother take the lead as we climbed the mountain.

A small figure wove through the herd, gripping Apollo’s reins with white-knuckled determination. Avalon’s cheeks and nose were bright red, her dark hair whipping around her face.

“Did you see them?” she shouted, breathless. “The horses, Clarke—did you see them?”