Page 119 of Forbidden Forget-Me-Not

G: What did he do?

I: He’s threatening to get the cops involved. Saying he should press charges against Kaylani and anyone who helped her “steal” Atlas.

Son of a bitch.

G: Does Nathaniel know?

I: Yes. I’ve never seen him so angry. He’s on his way to speak to Dimitri now. Hopefully, he can talk him down.

Great, just great.

The world narrowed, and I pinched the bridge of my nose as a headache formed behind my eyes.

G: Thanks. I’ll call Nathaniel later for an update.

Dimitri was going too far. Kaylani would never forgive him for pushing the self-destruct button on their relationship.

It was time to figure out my next move.

She had a show this weekend in Nevada, but I couldn’t tell her what her father had said. Not yet. It would throw her off her game.

I glanced toward the barn where my wife had disappeared with her so-called stolen horse and her bright, reckless hope. Somewhere along the line, I had stopped playing a role and started wanting this to be real. But the walls were closing in on us.

This was no longer just a family battle, quietly waged inside the walls of the Mikhailov home. Now it was a full-scale hunt.

Fucking Dimitri.

KAYLANI

Steam rose into the air despite the wash stall’s warmth. Water ran down Atlas’s legs in clear streams. The act of bathing my horse calmed me. There was something rhythmical about the hose, scrub, rinse routine.

The outdoor ring buzzed in the distance, but this section of the barn remained quiet. Private. Four wash stalls and nothing else.

I worked the sponge over his shoulder, feeling along his muscles to make sure there were no sore spots. My forehead dropped to his neck, and I closed my eyes. Our connection and the sound of running water felt better than any therapy session.

“We did well today,” I murmured.

Boots echoed down the concrete hallway. It wasn’t Goran, and no one else would bother me other than⁠—

Dylan.

I didn’t turn.

“I’m almost done.” I opened my eyes as my peaceful moment came to an end.

He stepped into the wash stall anyway, close enough that his cologne wrapped around me. I glanced over my shoulder.

Dylan leaned against the wall no more than three feet away, arms folded, watching me like I was his entertainment for the day.

“You ride like you’re trying to prove something.”

“I am,” I replied evenly.

He pushed off the frame and stepped closer. The stall wasn’t large, and with him inside, it felt claustrophobic.

Atlas sensed the energy shift and pawed at the concrete. His hooves were loud and striking like a sharp warning.

“Did you want something?”