Page 53 of A Raven Revived

This time, after she was dry and had a fresh gown slipped over her head, they didn’t immediately drag her away.

“Hold your arms out in front of you.”

Alarm filled her as she raised her arms. This was something new. What were they going to do to her?

They slipped some kind of heavy garment over her outstretched arms.

“What is this?” Dread settled over her. The fabric pulled tight and she heard one buckle after another being fastened behind her back.

“We call it the jacket,” Dr. Mickelson said simply.

Oh God, Samantha had mentioned it. “You don’t have to do this. I’ll behave. I swear. Please don’t do this.”

“You’ll have to earn your way out of it, Jane. Begging won’t work.”

Each of the other men grabbed a strap that connected to the end of the closed sleeves. They pulled them roughly behind her back, forcing her arms across her body. She couldn’t move them, and panic like she’d never felt burst through her. “No!” she shouted, tugging pointlessly. Trapped, she arched her back and tumbled onto the floor, flopping about like a fish and screaming incoherently, her arms pinned to the front of her.

“Let me out. Please!”

Pain burned in her hip and dizziness settled over her, her body suddenly heavy. He’d injected her again. In that moment, she welcomed the blessed darkness she knew was coming. At least there, she'd no longer be afraid.

* * *

They traveled toward Daisy’s family home as an impressive procession of carriages and horses. This was one reason it had taken an extra day. Carriages had to be driven from their estates. Ash insisted that the show of strength would be more likely to get them what they wanted. Anderson had stayed behind to work on finding any possible legal solutions, and Giles to take care of the club.

Lord Epworth, Patrick’s Marquess brother had been visiting him and had also volunteered to come along. Even Fitz was intimidated by their group, and he came from a powerful family, himself.

Ash leaned against the wall of the carriage, his eyes closed. He’d probably gotten even less sleep than Fitz, since he’d been up all night at The Raven’s Den. Fitz felt utterly useless. He hadn’t been able to help with that, or providing manpower, or anything else. But, despite the self-loathing and guilt, he was infinitely grateful for the help.

They stopped shortly before arriving at the property and gathered as a convocation. Ash immediately took charge.

“Are you sure you really want to be a part of this, Epworth?” Ash asked.

“An opportunity to use the weight of my title against a bully? I’m looking forward to it.”

“It could become less than civilized,” Ash warned.

Lord Epworth merely shrugged.

“He might be pompous,” Patrick said. “But he knows how to throw a punch.”

Ash checked to make sure everyone knew the plan. “Well then, gentlemen, let’s go get our Daisy back.”

Fitz climbed back into Ash’s carriage. He was exceedingly grateful that Ash had taken command of the whole situation. He seemed to be a born leader, which Fitz was not. He was lucky to have these men on his side. Even still, his pulse accelerated as they rolled to a stop before the large house. What if they were wrong? What if her father really didn’t know where she was? Or what if he just refused to tell them? Gathering his wits, he said a silent prayer and stepped down from the carriage.

The butler’s eyes widened as he looked at all of their cards and the line of carriages. He immediately opened the door and invited them in, until Fitz appeared at the back.

The man sputtered a bit, trying to find his voice, but before he could speak up, Michael, who was the largest of their group, stepped in front of him.

“He’s with us. Will that be a problem?” His voice was quiet, but the challenge was clear.

“No, my lord.” The butler shook his head and led them all to a large drawing room.

Barely a moment passed before Lord Litchfield appeared. He wasn’t nearly as nonchalant as he’d been when it was just Fitz. Ash, on the other hand, had already settled himself comfortably on the sofa, and the others all stood around the room at their ease, as if this was simply a social call.

“Good afternoon, gentlemen. What can I offer you to drink?”

Ash spoke first, but they all turned to face Litchfield.

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