The Wild One
The wind howled through Dustcreek Canyon, kicking up sand that stung Jace Monroe’s eyes as he ran. His boots slapped against the cracked red earth, heart thundering like the hooves of a hundred wild horses. Behind him, angry voices echoed across the rocks.
“He went that way!”
“Get the kid—he’s worth more than the horse!”
Jace didn’t dare look back. He clutched the leather satchel tight against his side, the contents rattling with every stride. He hadn’t meant to steal anything. Not this time. But when he saw those men beating that animal, something inside him snapped.
The stallion had been tied, cornered, and trembling. Jet black with a wild fire in its eyes. Untamed. Unbreakable. Just like him.
Now they were both on the run.
Jace skidded around a bend and stumbled onto a narrow path flanked by cliffs. The canyon narrowed—no way to run but forward. That’s when he saw him.
At the top of a ridge, the black stallion stood silhouetted against the burning orange sky. Its mane whipped like a flag in the wind, muscles tensed, hooves planted like stone. It looked down at Jace—not like prey or rider. Like an equal.
Their eyes met.
For a second, everything went quiet. The shouting, the panic, even Jace’s fear.
Then—crack.
A gunshot rang out.
A sharp sting burned across Jace’s shoulder, and he hit the dirt hard, rolling until his back slammed against a rock. The satchel flew from his grasp, spilling out its contents—ropes, a rusted compass, and the worn silver badge he never let anyone see.
Blood trickled down his arm.
The world blurred.
When Jace came to, the sun had dipped behind the ridge. Shadows stretched long and eerie. And the stallion… was standing over him.
Its dark eyes studied him, full of wild fire and ancient wisdom. No reins. No saddle. No fear.
Jace blinked, trying to sit up, but winced at the pain.
“You came back,” he whispered, voice dry and cracked.
The horse stepped closer, lowered its head—and nudged the satchel toward him.
Jace stared in disbelief. “You’re not just wild… You’re somethin’ else, aren’t you?”
Distant voices rose again—closer this time.
“Find that boy! I want my badge back!”
Jace’s breath hitched.
He scrambled to his feet, cradling his injured arm. But before he could move, the stallion stomped once, turned, and trotted down a hidden path between the rocks—then paused, looking back.
As if saying, follow me.
Jace hesitated for just a heartbeat.
Then he grabbed the satchel, gritted his teeth, and ran after the wild one.
Because whatever secrets that horse held…
Whatever danger was chasing him…
He had a feeling they were connected.
And Jace Monroe was done running alone.
