Twenty minutes later, I'm mounted up, and Eddie is behind me on a gray mare that looks less than thrilled about having a stranger on her back. "Stay on the marked trails," Cole instructs. "Keep your phone on."
I nod, already gathering the reins. Atlas shifts beneath me, eager to move, and for the first time in days, I feel something like excitement.
We head out, following the familiar trail that winds through the woods behind the stable. The wind and cold make Atlas fractious, dancing underneath me with the desire to be allowed to run, but he behaves all the same, obeying my commands. Eddie rides behind me, silent and watchful. I try to ignore him, try to pretend I'm alone out here like I used to be. Atlas tosses his head, picking up on my tension, and I force myself to relax. To focus on the rhythm of his gait, the creak of leather, the birdsong in the trees. The pattern of their branches, cold and dark, reaching out along the cloudy grey skies.
For a little while, it almost works. I almost forget about files full of kills and the blood on my husband's knuckles and the cold reality that he wants as little to do with me as I wanted to do with him. I focus on the rhythm of Atlas beneath me and the sting of the cold against my cheeks, waiting until a stretch of trail that I know is open and clear before letting him pick up the pace.I don’t bother calling back to Eddie to let him know that we’re going faster; he can figure it out on his own.
Atlas moves like a dream, his canter a swift glide down the hard-packed trail, mane blowing back against my gloved hands as I lose myself in the bliss of being outdoors, on my horse, very nearly free. I imagine giving Atlas his head, letting him gallop full-out, running as far away from this place as I could get, as if Sean wouldn’t find me eventually. As if I have any means to care for myself, or Atlas.
But I let myself pretend, just for a moment. I feel a bubbling sensation in my chest, and I remember, for a brief time, what it feels like to be happy. To feel like I can fly.
And then the crack of a gunshot splits the air.
Something hot and sharp grazes my upper arm, burning across my flesh with an abrupt, startling pain, and Atlas rears, screaming. I grab for his mane, for the reins, for anything, but he's panicking now, spinning and bucking. I feel myself slung hard to one side as he bolts, and the world tilts sideways.
The sky flies past me, the ground rushing up to meet me. I hit the dirt hard with a sickening sensation, the impact knocking the wind out of me.
"Down! Stay down!" Eddie is suddenly there, his body hovering over mine, pressing me into the leaves and mud. "Don't move!"
There’s another shot, making my eardrums ring. This one hits a tree trunk inches from where we're lying, bark exploding outward.
"Davis! Cole!" Eddie shouts into his radio. "Shots fired! We need someone out here now!"
Atlas has bolted, his hoofbeats disappearing into the distance. The gray mare is gone, too. It's just me and Eddie, pressed into the ground while someone shoots at us.
Someone is shooting atme.
The thought feels surreal. Even after my sister was targeted, it always felt impossible that someone would come after me. I’m no one, the quiet mouse of the Connelly family, with no knowledge of the estate or the business or anything worth having—until Desmond died. Then there was a target painted on my back, something in my possession that others would want.
But Sean already laid claim to me. I’m no longer there for the taking. So why would anyone?—
"Can you move?" Eddie's voice is urgent in my ear. "Are you hit? I see blood." He’s careful in how he touches me, no doubt not wanting me to report anything untoward back to Sean.
"I—I don't know,” I stammer, my voice cracking with fear and confusion. The shots have stopped, but for how long? Is the shooter just coming closer, waiting until they can see us? “My arm?—"
He shifts enough to check, his hands efficient and impersonal. "Grazed. You'll be fine. But we need to move. Now."
He helps me to my feet, keeping his body between me and where the shots came from. My legs feel like water, barely holding me up, but he's already propelling me forward. I hear the sound of a vehicle, and a moment later, see a Jeep coming down the trail toward us, Davis in the driver’s seat.
“Run to the Jeep,” Eddie orders, his gun drawn as his head constantly turns to scan the woods around us. As I bolt for the Jeep and climb in, I feel hands grab me, pulling me up, and voices shouting questions. Someone wraps something around my bleeding arm. Someone else is on the phone, voice clipped and urgent.
"—shots fired—Mrs. Flannery is safe but injured—shooter escaped—yes, sir, I'm calling him now?—"
The world feels distant. Muffled. Like I'm underwater.
Someone tried to kill me.
The thought keeps repeating in my mind, over and over, but I can't seem to make it feel real. The Jeep rattles over the trail, and my thoughts feel just as shaken, jolting back and forth from the shock that someoneshotat me, to fear for Atlas, worry over whether he’ll make it safely back to the stable…
The Jeep slows, and I realize that we’re pulling into the driveway in front of the stables. I hear the sound of feet on gravel, stopping just in front of me.
"Maeve." Susan's face swims into view, pale and frightened. "Oh my God, Maeve. Are you all right?"
I open my mouth to answer, but nothing comes out.Am I all right?
I was just shot at. Someone just tried to murder me on a trail I've ridden a hundred times. A trail where I felt safe.
Nowhere is safe anymore.
