Page 119 of Taken By the Vicious Highlander
Ariah’s words echoed in his mind.
Had they waited, kennin’ I would do anything to get her back?
Damon felt sick.
Finley’s voice softened. “This isnae yer fault.”
Damon forced himself to breathe. He could not let himself drown in the terror clawing up his throat. He had to think.
Lilith was smart.
If she had been taken, there would be signs. He turned on his heel and headed back into the keep, striding past Finley.
“Check the road to and past Kiel,” he barked over his shoulder. “Make sure to question everyone who might have seen her.”
Finley hesitated, his concern evident in his lack of response.
Damon doubled back and clapped a hand on the man’s shoulder, firm, understanding. “Find her, Finley.”
Finley nodded, then turned on his heel, mounted his horse, and rode hard toward Kiel.
Damon inhaled sharply as he strode back into the keep, heading directly to Lilith’s chambers.
He reached her chambers and shoved the door open.
The room was an absolute mess. Clothes were strewn across the floor, and an open trunk was missing several items. The bed was unmade, the blankets kicked aside as if in a rush.
This isnae the chaos of an intruder.
He noted that all the furniture was still upright, and there was no sign of struggle.
This wreckage was of someone leaving.
Damon exhaled sharply, scanning every detail. Her dressing table had been left open, and a few personal belongings were missing. The candle on the bedside table flickered, burning low. Her boots, the sturdy ones she rode in, were gone. Her mother’s press book was also gone.
His jaw tightened. She hadn’t been kidnapped.
She chose to go?
A sharp gust of wind made him turn around. The tapestry at the far corner of the room shifted eerily, caught in a draft that should not have existed.
Damon moved toward it, his pulse hammering. He lifted the heavy fabric, revealing what he had feared—and expected.
The tunnel.
The damned tunnel.
He stepped inside without hesitation. The air was damp, the scent of earth and cold stone filling his lungs. He followed the narrow path, his hand skimming the rough walls as his eyes adjusted to the darkness.
“Hello?” he called out, and received no response.
The tunnel twisted and turned, a silent passage through the very heart of the keep. And then, suddenly, it spat him out directly by the stables.
His horse was still there, its reins tied loosely around the tie post, and he thought it strange.
Had she readied me horse so I would come after her, or had Ryder ordered the stable boy to ready him for me?
Damon stuck with the latter option, though the former still burned his insides. He quickly mounted his horse and spurred the beast forward, toward Branloch.
