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He was going to do everything in his power to do exactly that.

“Ye think ye can scare me, Alistair?” Conall asked, and he took a quick, measured step forward.

Alistair startled, the knife at Eliza’s throat shaking as he tried to take a step back. But Eliza didn’t cooperate, and Alistair stumbled.

“Come closer and I’ll slit her throat!” Alistair threatened, fighting to regain some of his composure.

“Slit her throat and ye’ll have nothin’ and nay one to bargain with,” Conall taunted. “But we both ken it’s nae her ye want. It’s me.”

In his periphery, he noticed Eliot had found his feet once more. He was able to clock his position, noting that he’d moved a safe distance away from the horse and even closer to Alistair.

Conall held out his hand, laying the palm flat as it faced the ground. It was a sign they’d crafted years ago, having plenty of time to hone it in the years they’d spent fighting side by side.

Eliot noticed it, and he stopped advancing. Conall left his hand out, ready to give the signal when it was time to move.

“It’s me ye want to hurt,” he taunted again. “Eliza has done nothin’ to ye. And I willnae risk letting; me maither go, ye ken that much. Nae after what she did.”

“She dinnae do it!” Alistair yelled, his voice edging on hysteria. “She told me she dinnae do it!”

“Aye,” Conall said, forcing his voice to sound amused despite the fact that his heart was pounding with terror seeing the knife that close to Eliza’s throat. “I’m sure she did. But she is a liar, it’s what they do. They lie! She is just toyin’ with ye to try to help herself. She will slit yer throat the very moment she is free.”

“More lies!”

Conall’s words had the desired effect though. Alistair had allowed himself to get so worked up he’d moved the knife away from Eliza’s throat and had now leveled it at Conall.

He was still holding Eliza, though, and that would not do.

“C’mon, Alistair,” Conall taunted.

He took another step forward. His hand was still flipped over, still giving Eliot the signal to wait. He turned it on its side, thumb facing up.

Eliot moved, darting to the right. The sudden movement grabbed Alistair’s attention, and the moment that Alistair’s eyes was off him, Conall darted forward.

Alistair realized what was happening a little too late as the two men rushed him from two sides. He raised his arm to defend himself, dropping his hold on Eliza in the process.

Conall had expected that he’d have to grab hold of her and help her out of the way. But she was no shrinking damsel. The moment that Alistair’s grip dropped from around her neck, she raised her foot, stomping it down hard on his toes.

Alistair let out a yowl of pain just as Conall reached him. His fist shot out, connecting with Alistair’s cheek just as Eliza darted away.

He spotted her in his periphery shrinking into the trees, hiding from a safe vantage point to watch the carnage.

Alistair swung his arm, the dagger slashing out wildly at both Conall and Eliot. Eliot dodged to the side, jumping back just in time as Alistair swung wide.

When Conall saw his chance, he darted forward. In one swift movement, he wrapped his arm around Alistair’s, incapacitating it. He jabbed his elbow into Alistair’s nose, hearing a satisfying crunch when it made contact.

“Eliot, check on Eliza,” Conall roared, reaching with his other hand to grab the knife.

Alistair was gripping it so tightly his knuckles were white as they pressed against his skin. Conall grabbed the hilt as much as he could, and in one quick movement he jerked back.

Alistair’s wrist snapped with a loud crack, and the man screeched. Something wild and feral unleashed within Conall.

“Why did ye do it?” Conall asked, wrenching the knife from the other man’s hands.

He let go and Alistair fell to the grass. Behind him, he could hear Eliot and Eliza speaking in low, pitched tones, so he knew the both of them were alright. He kept his gaze focused on the man now sniveling at his feet.

“Why did ye try to hurt the bairns?”

Alistair cradled his wrist to his chest, staring up at Conall with hate filled eyes.