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The ranch not being in the black—money wise.

How Atta thought having upgraded stalls would be good for the horses and revenue.

How Rattler and family had always wanted a portion of Watt land.

How they were going to go after it, knowing it was going into foreclosure.

It was the only reason they were back in town.

“They left,” Mariano said, the wheels spinning behind his eyes.

He was smart. Too smart. He had an intuition that almost felt unmatched, especially when it came to me. I could not lie about this.

“Yes, they did, years ago.” I took a breath. “The parents never left, but the sons did. They were accused of murder.”

A week after the night from hell, a woman had been found on their land, frozen, the bottom of her feet full of fang holes. Law enforcement could never prove it was Rattler and his brothers. Rattler had claimed he had sex with the woman, but that was the last time he saw her.

They left town right after.

They had gotten away with it.

“Rattler,” he repeated.

“Rattler,” I forced myself to repeat.

He glanced at me. Brought his eyes back to the road. “Tell me why you were so panicked when you pulled what you thought was a snake in at the lake. Little phases you, besides horses.” He rolled his shoulders.

The equivalent of an oh fuck moment. He sensed the truth.

“Because…it was a snake.” The end of that response sounded like a question.

“Horses don’t like snakes either.”

My eyes narrowed on his face.

“You love the scent of apples,” he said, answering the look.

“So do horses?”

“ Esattamente ,” he said, exactly , precisely , as if that explained everything.

“Explain to me what you are saying, Mariano.”

“You’re the mare I’ve always raced to.”

“I am a horse?”

“The mare to my feral.”

“The lioness to your lion?”

“Yeah,” he said. “And I fucking hunt for you only.”

I held my breath, turning away from him and toward the cracked window. I lowered it all the way down so fresh air would circulate through the cab, hoping he did not hear the release of my breath. It was thick, heavy, one that was stuck deep in my chest. It came from a place of unrest.

Mariano’s hand engulfed mine, and I felt something from him then, something I had never before felt. The thrill a hunter would feel before the hunt. It was as if he smelled the scent of my blood in the air, and he was being pulled toward it by instinct.

“You are going to help,” I said, changing the direction of the conversation.

He nodded. “I like Hannah. I like Bianca. I like Atta and Ty. I like how they respect the land and take care of it. I appreciate how they’ve taken care of mine over the years.”

“Me?”

“You, my Annie.”

I debated on trying to make a deal with him—the truth for his vow not to go after Rattler and his brothers for that night, only because of my issue with Mariano marking his soul for evil that should not win, and Atta imploring me not to.

I had come to the realization that Mariano protected my body, but as his woman, it was my job to protect him even deeper.

I would save him in any way I could. Protect him in any way I could.

I felt as Atta’s cousin and best friend, it was my duty to respect her wishes not to tell. However, keeping what happened a secret had worn me down. I was still not sure what had happened to her before I arrived. I had tried over the years to ask her, but she would never confide in me.

Forget it, remember? she would whisper and then change the subject as if we were only bringing up the weather.

I took a deep breath in and sighed it out.

The breath was cold. “Atta did not want to tell Angelo about the money because she thought the timing stunk. She did not want him to think she fell for his money instead of him. Also, she is accustomed to being an independent woman. She was making it on her own until she got in too deep with the loans.”

There was also the other part of this. She was keeping the biggest part of that night to herself, and if something had happened with Rattler before I arrived…

she was no longer a virgin. This was something the Fausti family put worth on.

They valued things most of the world did not any longer.

And it was not the act itself, but that a woman had saved that part of herself for her man, knowing there was a man out there who would value her.

Angelo would know. He would demand to know who and where.

He would find the poor guy and kill him.

Perhaps there was no room for them both in the world.

Or perhaps he was different. Some of the Fausti men had affairs, and the wives knew about it.

Not that Angelo was going to have an affair (I knew the relationship between Angelo and Atta was different), but…

would he have the mental and emotional capacity to accept Atta for who she was and what she had done before him?

I honestly did not know. I did not know Angelo well, outside of that he was a Fausti, Romeo and Juliette’s oldest son, grandson of Luca, great-grandson of Marzio.

Mariano’s cousin. When Angelo was not working the ranch, he spent all his time with Atta.

He pulled his weight around the ranch and then some.

His arrival had painted him in a different light, and he was still flashy, but only when the situation called for it. Time and place.

“Atta is Angelo’s wife,” Mariano said, as if that explained and covered all points. “She’s his. He’s hers. End of story.”

“Atta needs him,” I barely got out, my heart pleading silently that what had happened that night could not come between them. Then evil won.

Mariano stared out of the window, eyes hard in the distance. When we hit a dip, it seemed as if his breath caught, and he looked over at me, eyes softer. “Not nearly as much as he needs her.” He squeezed my hand and did not let go, not even when we arrived and joined the party.