Page 50 of To Curse A Knight

I allowed the stars to guide me and selected the path to my right, following the trail eastward and down to the silhouetted track of a snowed-in driveway. It was just narrow enough to fit a single vehicle. The route veered to a sharp left where the curve of the road met a steep hill; the footprints disappeared into a roll of disturbed snow, suggesting the prisoner fell. I took my time on the icy embankment, noting the fresh drops of blood crusting the top layer of snow halfway down the hill.

So, they were hurt. From the fall? Or had an old wound re-opened? Were they prisoners in isolation only, or had they been tortured?

Stinging mountain winds bit my cheeks, embedding icy claws into my skin. Surely, the fugitives were frozen by now.

Kellan had said they were weak; what had Hillary done to them? What had they done to her?Mi Reinawas a fierce force to be reckoned with, of sound heart and strong mind. Whatever these two sorry souls had done, any punishment would have been earned tenfold.

The disturbed snow led into the copse of trees to my left; I stood stock still, listening for any sounds beyond the greenery. A grin tugged at the corners of my mouth when I heard the soft crunching of snow several yards ahead.

Picking up my pace, I raced through the underbrush. The thick branches tore patches out of my coat as I brushed past them, leaving a plume of goose feathers behind in my wake.

The shadow of a thin figure came into view. The wisp of a human cursed softly as they scuffled through a swath of thorny plant skeletons. Soft whimpers of pain echoed through the trees as the thorns scraped through their bare skin and blood spilled onto the white blanket below.

They didn’t hear me until I was upon them. A rake thin man with scruffy, shoulder-length matted hair turned at the very last second, haunted eyes widening in horror. I clamped a hand around the nape of his neck and yanked him by the roots of his hair, forcing him to the ground.

A slew of curses escaped dry, cracked lips as the man writhed in my grasp until the moment he registered it was a futile endeavor. I was far stronger, fully clothed, and determined to bring him pain. He softened in my hold and submitted, what little life he had in his limbs draining out of him.

I held the gun to his temple, tempted to force him to his knees at my feet, to pay his penance toMi Reina. I could kill this man right now, cleanse him of all his sins with a forced baptism in the snow. I could leave him to gurgle his final breaths through bloody gasps of air.

Now that I saw his lifeless form, ragged and on the cusp of collapse, my curiosity was piqued. What had this man done to incite the wrath of my love?

I had not tortured a soul in a good while, but the skill set never left the body or the mind once rooted beneath the skin. I would leave him alive until Hillary returned, but first, I would uncover a few answers for myself.

Without warning, I hoisted the frail man over my shoulder, his weight barely more than Hillary’s, and carried him out to the road and up the steep hill through the snow. Headlights lit up the path ahead from behind, and I turned to see Kellan’s Jeep rolling effortlessly forward along the unplowed road.

He stopped at the crest of the hill and climbed out like a bull; rage and aggression emanated from him in violent currents.

I waved him off. “I have this one taken care of.” I re-situated the man on my back. He’d stopped pounding on my shoulder blades, succumbing to his inevitable fate. “Follow the footsteps to the left of the entry door. That will lead you to the next one.”

Kellan nodded brusquely and leaped back into the SUV, snow flicking off his tires and into my face as he took off down the remainder of the trail.

Hillary had entrusted the two of us with this task—we would not let her down.

I again continued forward, contemplating this set of circumstances. Kellan and I were once again working together to support the woman in our care. The woman we woulddie for. I took comfort knowing he had grown to be mycompanero; it was a natural coupling. In another life, we could have been brothers. Perhaps lovers. He was an equal opponent; the darkness in him rivaled mine. His fierce desire to claim Hillary as rabid as my own.

Tonight, we were comrades, unveiling our darkness to our queen’s enemies, unleashing it to protect her light.

I slogged through, the extra weight of my captive admittedly making the trek far slower. Back at Hillary’s building, I carried him down the dark corridor, curious to see where he’d been housed all this time.

The sting of this secret being held from me sat low in my heart, though more of an irritant than a stabbing wound. Two prisoners had been living above the safe house the several weeks I’d also used the building as my cage; judging by this man’s appearance, unless he had been previously homeless on the streets of Carlisle, he had been held far longer.

HadMi Reinabeen concerned at my judgment? Was this a matter of trust between us, or had she kept the secret for my protection?

My love for her knew no bounds; she held my companies, my life’s work, and now my life in her hands. I needed her to understand she could lay all she held dearest in her heart at my feet. I would cherish it, protect it. Exact revenge on those who squandered it.

As I would now.

The dark corridor led to a set of metal doors locked with a keypad and a biometric scanner. I punched in the bypass code she’d texted me by memory. Then shifting the dead weight across my shoulder, I impatiently waited for the pneumatic door to slide open.

My captive had gone suspiciously limp in my hold, his chest rising and falling against my back, a cornered kitten waiting to claw.

I strode down the empty, silent hallway as the hairs at the back of my neck stood on end at the sight to the left of me. Thick glass walls looked into white, padded cells. A single cot, toilet, and protected shower head were embedded into the ceiling. The confined spaces held nothing else.

The cells were clinical. Despite their bright exterior, they exuded immeasurable darkness—the intent of such spaces only two things: the insufferable torture and isolated torment of men and women who deserved it.

Mi Reina, the angel of persecution. This revelation was a mild shock to the system, and yet, exactly what I should expect of my passionate Queen. Taking matters into her own hands—exacting justice in a prison of her own making as she did in the boardrooms of our businesses.

Pitbulls could learn from her aggressive confidence. A blessing from the stars and a curse from the bowels of hell—it would be the very thing that killed the woman I loved.

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