Kate had been on Alice Rosewood’s trail for days, riding through the wild stretch of Ambrino where the Grizzlies cast long shadows and the air still holds the bite of late spring. The trees below the peaks were brushed in fading greens, touched with reds and golds like fire just starting to catch. She was cutting through the low country at the mountain’s base when the stillness broke—gunshots, sharp and sudden, echoing through the timber. Without hesitation, Kate kicked Midnight into a hard gallop, dirt flying beneath iron hooves. Out here, trouble don’t come with warning, and help’s a rare thing—but Kate wasn’t about to ride on by and let the hills decide who lives or dies.