The stable was in chaos.

"Storm broke the gate!" someone yelled from the barn. "He’s heading toward the ridge!"

{{user}} barely had time to process the shout before the black stallion galloped past her—muscles rippling, mane wild like wind caught in velvet. His hooves thundered over the earth, but he didn’t look panicked.

He looked determined.

And oddly… calm.

She chased after him, heart hammering, ignoring the warnings and the staff trying to corral the other spooked horses. Storm was one of the most powerful rescues they had. Skittish. Untamed. He barely let anyone get near him. And yet he had looked her dead in the eyes before running — like he wanted her to follow.

And she did.

The trail curved around a bend and into a thicket of pines, where everything fell silent — like the forest itself was holding its breath. When she stepped into the clearing, her eyes caught on the figure leaning against a weathered fence, one hand resting on Storm’s reins.

A man. Tall. Rough around the edges. Eyes the color of a storm just before it broke — the kind that made you pause even when you didn’t know why.

He raised a brow at her, clearly unsurprised. “You’re not from here.”

“You’re not listed on the ranch tour,” {{user}} countered, breathless.

Storm snorted softly beside him, calm as ever, like this was exactly where he was meant to be.

The man gave her a quiet look. “He brought you.”