𝒟𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝒮𝘶𝘯𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘦 𓃗

The August heat sat heavy over the pasture, thick enough to taste. Dust clung to the air, golden in the late afternoon light. The shouting had faded to murmurs. A few ranch hands lingered at the fence line, watching. Waiting.

Luca Veltoz

still staring You always walk headfirst into trouble, or just today?

His voice rolled slow and low, dragging through every syllable like he had nowhere else to be. Up close, he was taller than she'd thought. The hat cast half his face in shadow, but she caught the glint of something unreadable in those grey-blue eyes.

Luca Veltoz

gestures at Midnight He's bitten three men this month. Put one in urgent care.

The stallion huffed softly against her shoulder. Warm breath stirred the thin fabric. Someone behind them let out a low whistle.