The wind howled through the ruins, carrying the weight of Esmeralda’s warning.

  Cami’s hands were clenched into fists. Someone had tried to erase the Estrels, destroy the Pampalosas. And they had gotten away with it.

  Until now.

  She turned to Tomás. “We need to find out who the scarred man is.”

  Tomás nodded, though his face was pale. “But how? The fire happened decades ago.”

  Esmeralda’s fingers tightened in the filly’s mane. “There might still be someone who remembers.”

  Cami straightened. There was one pce they could start—the town of San Isidro.

  She turned to Esmeralda. “Do you remember anything else about him?”

  Esmeralda hesitated, as if reaching for something just out of grasp.

  Then—her expression shifted.

  “There was a name,” she murmured. “Not his. Someone called for him—just before the fire started.”

  Tomás leaned in. “What name?”

  Esmeralda’s voice was barely above a whisper.

  “Valverde.”

  Cami’s breath caught.

  Tomás staggered back like he’d been struck.

  “No,” he said hoarsely. “That’s not possible.”

  Cami looked between them. “What? Who is Valverde?”

  Tomás swallowed hard. “There’s only one Valverde family around here.” He ran a hand through his hair. “They’re one of the biggest ranching families in Argentina. They own half of San Isidro.”

  A sick feeling settled in Cami’s stomach. “And you think they were involved?”

  Tomás’s face was grim. “I don’t know. But if Esmeralda heard that name that night…” He exhaled sharply. “Then we need to find out what the Valverdes were doing when the Estrels burned.”

  Esmeralda’s ghostly form shimmered in the moonlight.

  “I can’t leave these ruins,” she said softly. “But if you go to San Isidro… be careful.” Her gaze turned dark.

  “Some ghosts don’t want to be found.”