Chapter 7 - THE CHILD THEY TOOK
“MARY!”
Weston’s shout tore across the field.
The rider turned.
For one second, Holly saw Mary’s pale face beneath a red winter hat.
Then the man kicked Midnight.
The stallion surged toward the tree line.
Weston ran for the nearest vehicle.
Holly grabbed his arm.
“Wait!”
He spun.
“Get out of my way.”
“You’ll push him faster.”
“They have my daughter.”
“And they’re using a terrified horse.”
“I don’t care about the horse!”
Holly flinched.
Weston immediately regretted it.
But Mary was disappearing between the trees.
Holly stepped closer.
“You should care because Midnight is the only thing keeping Mary alive.”
That stopped him.
“If you chase with engines and sirens, he may panic. That man barely controls him.”
Weston looked toward the woods.
“Then what do you suggest?”
Holly scanned the paddock.
A chestnut gelding stood near the far fence.
“Give me another horse.”
“No.”
“Weston.”
It was the first time she had used his first name.
He noticed.
So did Tristan.
Holly continued.
“I know those woods?”
“No.”
“But I know what Midnight will do.”
“How?”
“He’ll choose open ground over dense trees if he’s frightened. He’ll avoid ice. He’ll search for the herd.”
Weston’s jaw tightened.
“I’m going with you.”
“Can you ride?”
His glare answered.
Holly almost smiled despite everything.
“Fine.”
Five minutes later, Holly rode the chestnut gelding while Weston mounted a gray warmblood.
Tristan remained behind coordinating security.
“No shots unless Mary is clear!” Weston ordered.
They entered the woods.
Holly watched the ground.
Broken branches.
Fresh hoofprints.
Midnight had moved quickly.
Too quickly.
“Why would they take him?” Weston asked.
“Maybe they didn’t plan to.”
“What does that mean?”
“Mary went to the stable on her own.”
Weston looked at her.
“You think she was lured?”
“I think someone knew she trusted Midnight.”
Holly’s stomach tightened.
“They used what made her happy.”
Weston’s face became murderous.
The tracks turned downhill.
Holly slowed.
“Something’s wrong.”
“What?”
“Midnight knows this ground now. He wouldn’t choose that slope at speed.”
“Unless forced.”
“Yes.”
They descended carefully.
At the bottom, they found Mary’s red hat.
Weston dismounted.
Blood was visible on one side.
His face went white.
Holly grabbed it.
“No blood.”
He looked.
The dark mark was mud.
Weston exhaled shakily.
Then Holly heard it.
A whinny.
Midnight.
Close.
They moved through the trees.
The black stallion stood beside a fallen log.
His reins hung loose.
No rider.
No Mary.
Holly dismounted and approached.
Midnight was trembling.
She touched his neck.
“Easy.”
Weston searched the ground.
“Tracks.”
Two sets of human footprints.
One adult.
One child.
The adult dragged one leg slightly.
They led toward an old hunting cabin near the northern boundary.
Weston knew it.
His grandfather had built it.
Nobody used it anymore.
Security was already moving around the perimeter when Holly and Weston arrived.
“Thermal shows two people inside,” a guard whispered. “One adult, one small.”
Weston drew his weapon.
Holly caught his sleeve.
“If he’s holding her—”
“I know.”
His voice sounded nothing like the Mafia boss everyone feared.
It sounded like a father trying not to collapse.
A man shouted from inside.
“Weston Hargrove!”
Everyone froze.
“Come alone!”
Weston stepped forward.
Holly grabbed him.
“No.”
He looked at her.
“That’s my daughter.”
“Yes.”
“And I’m not letting you walk into that cabin knowing it’s what he wants.”
A gunshot exploded.
The bullet struck a tree ten feet away.
Mary screamed.
Weston’s face broke.
“Daddy!”
He stepped into the open.
“I’m here!”
“Put the gun down!” the man shouted.
Weston dropped it immediately.
Every guard stared.
Many had served him for years.
Few had ever seen Weston Hargrove surrender anything.
“Walk forward!”
Weston obeyed.
Holly’s mind raced.
Midnight stood twenty yards behind them.
His head suddenly lifted.
His ears turned toward the cabin.
A sound.
That faint whistle.
The kidnapper had one too.
Midnight’s body tensed.
Holly understood.
The man wasn’t only using the whistle to control Midnight.
He had created an escape plan.
Panic the horse.
Create chaos.
Run.
Holly whispered to Tristan, “When Midnight moves, don’t shoot.”
“What?”
“Trust me.”
She approached the stallion.
“Easy.”
The whistle sounded again.
Midnight reared.
Security men shouted.
Holly grabbed his mane and swung onto his bare back.
Weston turned.
“Holly!”
Midnight bolted.
But Holly did not try to stop him.
She redirected him.
Toward the cabin.
The front door opened.
A masked man pulled Mary outside, one arm around her chest, gun against her side.
Midnight charged directly toward them.
The kidnapper panicked.
He released Mary and jumped aside.
Exactly what Holly needed.
“DOWN!”
Weston screamed.
Mary dropped.
Tristan fired once.
The kidnapper’s gun flew from his hand.
Weston reached Mary first.
He covered her body with his own.
Midnight thundered past.
Holly turned him in a wide circle.
The masked man ran toward the woods.
Security tackled him before he made twenty feet.
Weston held Mary against his chest.
She sobbed into his coat.
“I’m sorry, Daddy.”
“No.”
His voice broke.
“No, no, sweetheart. You did nothing wrong.”
“I wanted to see Midnight.”
“I know.”
“The man said Holly was waiting.”
Weston closed his eyes.
Holly dismounted.
Her legs nearly gave way when she touched the ground.
Adrenaline left her all at once.
Mary saw her.
“Holly!”
She pulled away from Weston and ran.
Holly dropped to her knees.
Mary collided with her.
“You came.”
“Of course I came.”
“I knew you would.”
Those words destroyed something inside Holly.
All her life, people had disappeared.
Her father.
Her mother.
Every home she had been forced to leave because rent climbed faster than wages.
She had learned not to promise permanence.
But Mary was holding her like permanence already existed.
Weston watched.
Something inside his chest hurt.
Not jealousy.
Something more dangerous.
Hope.
Security dragged the masked kidnapper closer.
Tristan ripped away the mask.
Everyone stared.
Finn O’Donnell.
The legendary horse trainer.
Blood ran from his split lip.
Weston’s face became blank.
Finn laughed bitterly.
“You should’ve let them put the horse down.”
Weston handed Mary to Holly.
“Take her away.”
“No.”
Mary grabbed his coat.
Weston crouched.
“Go with Holly.”
“Don’t hurt him.”
Weston froze.
Mary’s eyes were terrified.
“Mommy said hurting people makes more hurting.”
Caroline.
Weston closed his eyes.
Even dead, she was still saving pieces of him.
He kissed Mary’s forehead.
“I won’t.”
Holly took Mary toward the horses.
Weston turned back to Finn.
“Who hired you?”
Finn spit blood into the snow.
“You think I’m telling you?”
Tristan searched his pockets.
He found a phone.
A key.
And a folded photograph.
Tristan opened it.
Caroline.
Samuel Bennett.
Edward Grayson.
And Graham Voss.
On the back was a handwritten address.
A storage facility in Connecticut.
Finn’s expression changed when he saw it.
Weston noticed.
“What’s there?”
Finn smiled.
“The reason your wife died.”
Holly stopped walking.
Weston’s voice became low.
“Say that again.”
Finn laughed.
“You still think the bomb was meant for you?”
Weston stared.
Finn leaned forward.
“It wasn’t.”
The world seemed to tilt.
“Caroline wasn’t collateral damage.”
May you like
Finn’s smile disappeared.
“She was the target.”
