Maria.
Darren was an asshole.
The thought didn't come gently. It came sharp and bitter, rising from somewhere deep in my chest where his earlier words still lingered like a stain I couldn't scrub away. I remembered his warning, low, deliberate, edged with something that hadn't sounded like mere confidence.
It had sounded like a promise.
And now, watching him ride, watching the way he leaned forward in the saddle with that smug determination carved into his features, irritation crawled beneath my skin like fire ants. My jaw tightened. My nails pressed crescent moons into my palms.
He had meant every word.
The thunder of hooves swallowed the air as the horses surged forward. The ground trembled beneath the stands, dust rising in soft golden clouds under the harsh light of the afternoon sun. My gaze darted frantically between the three riders as Darren finally caught up to Noah and Damien.
They were neck and neck now.
