Page 125 of Wilder

“Hey!” The teenager huffed.

I shook my head. “Glad you’re all taking this well.”

“We’d rather deal with the two of you being disgustingly happy than watch you both mope around the ranch while pretending nothing was going on,” Dallas sighed.

“Seriously,” Ryder agreed. “My only rule is just don’t start fucking in the tack room. Some of us still have to work around here.”

“Enough,” Sully shot back, though there was no malice behind his tone. He rubbed a hand over his face in exasperation, like he was trying to physically wipe away the circus Ryder had somehow created. “You’re all giving me a damn headache.”

The laughter started to die down, the buzz of noise mellowing into quieter chuckles and shared looks. Someone shoved the bread basket toward Dusty. Silverware clinked against plates again. But the air shifted—subtle, like a cold breeze sneaking in through a cracked window.

That’s when I noticed it.

I glanced around the table, scanning every familiar face... and found one chair empty.

Suspiciously empty.

I frowned. “Where’s Carter?”

Sully looked at me. “Got that toxicology report back. Guess what it came back with?”

Beside me, Asher stilled. His hand tightened around mine, like he already knew the answer but needed to hear it out loud.

“So,” he said quietly, “it was positive?”

Sully nodded, his expression turning grave. “Yeah. We had the lab double-check it to be sure. Came back with enough traces to explain everything—the horses getting sick, Pelly’s weird vital reports coming back inconclusive. I suspect he’s tried poisoning the feed more than once but never got the dosage right before then.”

“Why would he do something like that?” Asher murmured.

“Can’t really say. Some people like to harm animals because they’re vulnerable. It’s a power and control thing.”

“Jesus,” Laken muttered, setting his fork down slowly.

“I fired him late yesterday afternoon,” Sully continued, jaw tight. “Didn’t want to make a scene, but he didn’t make it easy.”

“Oh, no, it was a scene,” Ryder cut in, grinning despite the gravity of what was being discussed. “We had to shove him into a cab while he was kicking, screaming, and calling Sully a fascist overlord with trust issues.”

Dallas snorted from down the table. “What does that even mean?”

“No idea, but I’m pretty sure he tried to quote Macbeth at one point, too,” Ryder added. “Guy’s lucky I didn’t film it. Would’ve made a great viral moment.”

I merely shook my head. “Regardless, whatever new hires we have coming in are going to be under a strict probation period. That means no dealing with the feed or anything the horses can ingest for at least ten weeks. I’m going to need all of you to keep on top of that come this summer when our seasonals get in.”

The weight returned then. The reminder that, out here, loyalty and trust mattered most. One person slipping up could mean the difference between life or death for our animals and that wasn’t something I was willing to play around with, let alone gamble on.

Asher brushed his thumb over the back of my hand again, a slow, gentle motion that did more to steady me than anything else in that moment. It was such a small gesture, barely noticeable to anyone else, but it anchored me immediately. Pulled me back down from the wave of tension that had gripped the room just moments before.

“Well, good riddance, then,” Laken said. “We’ve got a good, steady crew anyway, now that Asher’s finally back from his vacay.”

“Vacay.” Asher huffed with an eye roll. “I wasn’t sunbathing in Cabo, you know.”

“Sabbatical,” Laken shot back with a wink. “Since I know you were probably moping on your couch like a sad, sorority girl who just had her first break-up.”

Asher flipped Laken off in response.

“We do have a good crew,” I agreed. “Stronger than we ever have before.”

The words felt solid in my chest, heavy in the best way, like something had finally clicked back into place.