If she had meant for me to come after her, then by God I will.
The ride there was brutal, the cold wind nipping his face, his heart hammering too fast.
By the time he reached the village square, Ryder was already there, speaking in a hushed tone to a few gathered villagers.
Damon barely waited for his horse to stop before jumping down, his boots hitting the dirt hard.
“Anything?” he barked.
Ryder shook his head. “Nay sign of her.”
Damon’s jaw tightened. He didn’t tell the man that she was taken when he knew very well that she had left.
Then, a warm, familiar voice called from behind him, “Me Laird.”
“Emma? What do ye ken?”
Damon turned around, his sharp gaze landing on the old innkeeper as she stepped forward, her hands folded, her face unreadable.
She exhaled, as if bracing herself. “She was here.”
Damon’s stomach clenched. “When?”
Emma sighed. “Nae long before daybreak.”
Damon took a step forward, every muscle in his body coiled tight. “Did she say where she was goin’?”
Emma lifted her chin. “She made me promise nae to tell. I told her I would help her, but I wouldnae lie to ye.”
Damon’s eyes narrowed. “Do ye ken where she went?”
Emma smiled sadly. “Aye, I do.”
Damon’s patience snapped. “Christ alive, woman! Tell me where she went before I rip me beating heart out of me chest!”
Emma met his gaze, hers steady and knowing. “She’s gone to Brahanne.”
Everything inside him froze.
“Brahanne,” he echoed. “Brahanne.”
His breath left him in a rush, his vision tunneling.
Her sister?
“Why the hell would she go there?” he muttered.
Right where the Sinclairs probably want her to go. Alone.
It wasn’t safe.
Fear gripped his throat, knowing that the Sinclairs were behind it all. They had backed Sebastian, after all. Brahanne was the last place she should be.
Fear—raw, unrestrained, suffocating—wrapped its hands around his throat.
Damon turned to Ryder. “We ride, now.”
Ryder nodded, already moving.