“Say it,” Wade says.
Brooks looks at me first, then back at the others. “It was circulated through Colt’s crew.”
The name lands hard, sharper than anything else we’ve said so far.
For a second, nobody moves.
Not because it doesn’t make sense. Because it makes too much.
I feel my focus narrow again, not on the chutes this time, but on the bigger picture that just snapped into place.
The access. The timing.
The way Colt’s been here all night without riding, without leaving, just… present.
Watching.
Wade’s jaw tightens. “You’re telling me this runs through him?”
“I’m telling you his name’s in the middle of it,” Brooks says, calm but certain. “Whether he’s directing it or someone’s using his network, he’s connected.”
Luke’s gaze shifts toward the far end of the pens. “Where is he now?”
I look too.
He’s not where he was before.
The space he’d been holding is empty, like he stepped out without anyone noticing when the attention shifted back to the arena.
That doesn’t feel like a coincidence either.
Wade mutters something under his breath. “Convenient.”
I don’t answer right away.
I just look out across the arena, the lights, the movement, the riders stepping up like this is just another night.
Because now we’ve got a name tied to the middle of it.
Not proof.
But enough to change the direction of everything that comes next.
“Colt,” Wade says again, quieter this time, like he’s testing how it sounds when it’s real.
I nod once.
“Yeah,” I answer. “Colt.”
Chapter twelve
Fear and Fire
Riley
The second night feels different, an edge running under everything before we even make it through the gates. Before the noise settles in and the lights hit and the crowd pulls us forward the way it did yesterday.
Or maybe that’s just me.
