Then I’d like to buy him back. I’ll pay well. Far more than whatever you spent at auction.
Silence. Levi finally spoke, his voice low. Seems funny, Mr. Halston, that a horse like that would just go missing.
Halston barely glanced at him. I’m not here to talk about the past. I’m here to take back what belongs to me.
Ambrose clenched his fists at his sides. Every instinct told him not to trust this man. Waymaker wasn’t just a lost horse to Halston.
He was a problem. And problems like this didn’t get a second chance. I appreciate the offer, Ambrose said carefully, but I’m not looking to sell.
The wiry man beside Halston finally spoke. His voice was colder, sharper. That’s a mistake.
A long silence stretched between them. Halston exhaled through his nose, adjusting the cuff of his coat. Think it over, Mr. Calloway.
But I’ll warn you, some things are better left buried. He turned without another word, walking back to the SUV. The wiry man hesitated, eyes locking onto Ambrose like a silent threat, then followed.
The doors shut. The engine revved. And then, just as quietly as they came, they were gone.
Ambrose let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. Levi muttered a curse. That wasn’t a request.
That was a warning. Ambrose turned back toward the barn, his jaw set. Then they just made a mistake, too.
Because if Halston wanted to keep something buried, Ambrose was damn sure going to dig it up. The distant hum of the SUV’s engine had long faded into the night, but the weight of Halston’s words still lingered in the cold air. Ambrose stood on the porch, staring down the empty road, his jaw tight.
Every instinct in him told him one thing. Halston wasn’t done. Levi let out a slow breath beside him.
You know what this means, right? Ambrose nodded, his eyes dark with determination. Yeah, they don’t just want Waymaker back. They want him gone.
Levi gave him a sharp look. And you’re not thinking of giving him up, are you? Ambrose turned, walking toward the barn. Hell no.
Inside, the old wooden structure was dimly lit, the scent of hay and horse sweat filling the air. Waymaker stood in his stall, ears twitching as Ambrose approached. The horse had been watching them the entire time, silent, waiting.
Ambrose placed a firm hand on his neck, feeling the warmth beneath his palm. You’ve got a story to tell, don’t you, boy? Waymaker exhaled, his breath hot against the cool air. Levi leaned against the stall door, arms crossed.
If you’re serious about this, we need to figure out what Halston’s hiding. Ambrose nodded. And I know where to start.
The next morning, Ambrose and Levi sat at the worn wooden table in the farmhouse, a laptop opened between them. The glow of the screen flickered across their tired faces as they scrolled through article after article, searching for any mention of Waymaker’s disappearance. Most of the reports from five years ago followed the same script, tragic loss, champion gone without a trace.
Mysteries surrounds racehorses fate. But none of them had answers. No official statements from Halston stables, no evidence of injury, no explanation for how a million-dollar horse could simply vanish.
Levi grunted. They scrubbed the story clean. Ambrose rubbed his temple.
There’s got to be something they missed. Then, buried deep in the search results, he found it. A small, forgotten blog post from a former track employee.
He clicked. The page loaded slowly, the text grainy and cluttered with ads. The title read, The night Waymaker disappeared.
What really happened? Ambrose and Levi exchanged glances. Ambrose started reading aloud. I worked at Halston stables for three years.
I saw things I wasn’t supposed to see. And the night before Waymaker disappeared, something happened at that barn. Something bad.
A cold chill ran down Ambrose’s spine. The post went on to describe a heated argument between Richard Halston and an unknown man. The employee claimed he had overheard snippets of their conversation, something about a deal gone wrong and someone paying the price.
But the most chilling part was at the bottom of the post. Waymaker didn’t just disappear. He was meant to disappear.
And I think someone died that night because of it. The words sent a shudder through the room. Levi leaned back, exhaling sharply.
Son of a bitch. Ambrose’s fingers tightened around the edge of the table. This isn’t just about a horse.
This is about something bigger. Levi nodded. And if Halston is willing to go this far to keep it quiet.
Ambrose looked toward the barn where Waymaker stood, oblivious to the storm brewing around him. Then we’re in a hell of a lot more danger than we thought. The farmhouse felt smaller, the air heavier.