Page 99 of Claimed By Her Forbidden Duke
“I am sure there is for men who were not kidnapped, held against their will, and forced to kill and fight their way to survival.” Edmund’s voice dripped with pure ice, and he knew he did not hate his cousin nor resent him for his concern, but he could not handle it right now.
Not with Penelope’s plea for him to let her in ringing in his ears. The exhaustion numbed him, and he craved that. The fatigue and hunger wore him down from the memory of how he had responded that day, wounded and knowing he was unworthy of all that she was.
“And you think that depriving yourself of food or rest is the way to go about it? It may have honed you once, but that was to the point of torture, when you were forced to be a man who did James Logan’s bidding. Do not fall into those old patterns, for you are not that man anymore. You are a brother, a cousin, a lover to?—”
“Do not speak her name.” Edmund stood up, not caring for a plan anymore.
“Talk to me about what happened, for I know something did.”
But Edmund didn’t. He just crossed the study to the door. He needed to move—to keep going, keep walking, keep thinking, stay awake.
“Do not follow me tonight, unless you want to meet an early death.”
“Is that a threat?” Benjamin sounded hurt.
Edmund spared him a moment and shook his head. “It is a warning against who I will meet. I will not have you within his sight.”
With that, he left the study and snapped at a footman to ready Altair within five minutes.
“But Your Grace, Altair has already been pushed?—”
“Now,” he snapped, his patience too thin to endure anything butmoving, for if he stopped, he would see the tears Penelope held back, hear the crack in her voice as she asked him if he wanted more—if theycouldbe more. He would see her walking away, and he would think how he had been a fool for not chasing after her.
Outside, he snatched Altair’s reins and hoisted himself up into the saddle. He rode hard to the docks. He would wait all day and night if that was what it took. Anything to forget Penelope Clarkin.
ChapterTwenty-Two
The Poseidon warehouse was a dark silhouette against the early evening sky. Edmund emerged from the shadows he had hidden in, his eyes trained on the dusty window on the top floor. According to Gregory, that was where Reed’s office was—where Reed ought to be.
If he wasn’t there, then Edmund would stomach going back to being the man Logan had forged in dark rooms and against a knife’s hilt, created through threats and survival. He would make every scum employee of Reed’s bleed until they confessed his location. But—there, yes. Movement in the office window, a face Edmund could only just make out.
A face he did not know, but his was one that Reed would recognize.
He knew Edmund was coming for him.
A slow, emotionless smile spread across Edmund’s face, and, with Penelope finally melting from his thoughts, he fell into an untethered calm. It was almost a comfort, falling back into that place that had let him do the things he had for seven years, that had let him face himself every morning, knowing he had killed and maimed and still had to do it all over again.
He descended upon the warehouse, and when blades glinted in the flickering light of the mostly empty warehouse, save for a few crates and papers tacked to the wall, he gave in to the revenge he had craved for so long.
He had hunted for this, and now it was time to strike.
Men rushed at him, and he met them head-on easily. He didn’t have to take more lives, but he could fight his way out of this, fell the men so they were breathing—barely. But it counted. He would let them live, and they could crawl for help if they wished.
“You should run while you still can, Your Grace,” one man sneered at him.
Edmund was surprised momentarily to recognize him from the fight at the Amber Lantern. The man smiled toothily.
“You were lying all along,” Edmund scoffed. “I should have known that scum like you have no honor.”
“We have a fight to finish,” the man snarled and swung out a meaty fist that Edmund feigned taking. But right as the man’s body stooped into the blow, Edmund dodged and slammed his fist into the man’s ribs.
As he staggered away, Edmund met the blow of another man, gritting his teeth when their knuckles met awkwardly. This lackey wielded a knife, and Edmund’s breath caught at the threat, but he swiped at him in time for the first man to return. Edmund had them both on the floor in a moment, his elbow digging into the man’s neck.
He growled, “I finish my fights. I suggest you try not to pick any more.” He released the man, hearing him wheeze.
He fought his way through the warehouse, finally making it to the rickety-looking staircase in the far back that led to a steel door. He wasted no more time in ascending and shoving the door open… only to find Cyrus Reed shoving documents, coin bags, and anything he thought was of worth into a bag.
When the door slammed against the wall, Reed started, his eyes wide as he beheld the Duke of Blackstone.
