Page 13 of Property of Legend

She called, and I’ll come running.

I tip the bottle back again and mutter into the wind, "You better be ready for me, Horse Princess."

But something tells me once I step foot back on that farm...

I won’t be the only ghost wandering around.

"Fuck it," I mutter, flicking ash to the wind."That’s tomorrow's problem."

Tonight?

I'm still free.

Still king of this goddamn hellhole.

Chapter 7

Legend

I lean back against my Harley, arms crossed, boots planted like I own the goddamn earth.Kentucky sun’s bleedin’ low across the rollin’ hills, casting long-ass shadows over Paradise County.Locals call this slice of nowhere "Heck," like Hell’s got a cute little cousin that still drinks sweet tea and sharpens its knives in the barn.But make no mistake, this land?It’s mine.Fought like hell to claim it.Bled for it.And now it beats to the rhythm of the Kings of Anarchy MC.

But today, I ain’t feeling like a king.

Today, I’m standing in the ghost of a memory I’d rather set on fire.

Paradise Falls.

The Montgomery farm sprawls out ahead of me like it’s posing for a glossy postcard, white fences, bluegrass shining like money.Never mind, I know it has a waterfall tucked back in the woods like some fairy tale bullshit.Place is called paradise for a reason.

It’s pretty, sure.But pretty don’t mean safe.Pretty don’t mean clean.Pretty’s just a mask worn right before ugly shows its teeth.

I dumped the bike and stormed off to the barn.

Sophie Montgomery.

Her name hits hard.That girl?She was everything I wasn’t supposed to want, money, pedigree, a life wrapped in ribbon and rules.Meanwhile, I came up dragging chains, half-feral, fists always bruised and knuckles always itchin’.

She was forbidden, and that only made her more dangerous.She was everything a scrappy kid from nowhere shouldn’t want but dreamed of anyway.Girl’s rich, living high in her glass tower while I wrestled in dirt and manure below.

Hell, I had no business staring up at her back then, but I did anyway.Because Sophie was trouble, always had been.Trouble that laughed with bourbon on her breath and dared me with eyes the color of wild Kentucky violets.

And damn if I didn’t love every moment of that trouble.She used to look at me like I was her favorite secret.Like she wanted to taste what the world told her not to touch.

And damn, I wanted her to.

Back then, I was just a pissed-off kid workin’ horses for her old man, tryin’ to stay one step ahead of the belt or the bottle, whichever my father reached for first.He knew horses, sure, but not how to stay outta his own goddamn way.Me?I learned to survive by keepin’ my head down and my fists up.But Sophie?She was the one wild thing I couldn’t ignore.

Memories claw their way to the surface as I kick at the dirt path leading toward the barn.Me, fifteen and ornery, working beside my old man on her daddy’s farm.Sophie, fourteen and full of sass, stealing glances my way.

Sophie was the one bright spot in those long-ass summer days filled with back-breaking work.She’d float down from that mansion in boots worth more than my old man’s truck, curls bouncing, freckles like fireflies across her face.Always smirking.Always dangerous.And I let her pull me in like a moth to a flame, knowing damn well I’d get burned.

We’d go riding, and hell.She rode like no one’s business.Like the damn horse was part of her, like she’d been born in the saddle and raised by wind.While most girls I knew were scared to break a nail, Sophie gripped the reins barehanded, boots digging in, hair flying like wildfire behind her.No fear in that girl, just grit and grace wrapped in sunshine.

She’d race me through those pastures like it was life or death, whooping like a damn outlaw, and nine times outta ten, she’d win.Not ‘cause her horse was faster, but ‘cause she didn’t hold back.Not for anything.Not even me.

We played our little game, flirting with disaster, never knowing just how bad the fall would be.Then came the night it all went to shit.

Turns out, it was worse than bad.It was goddamn legendary.

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