Page 114 of The Highlander Steals a Virgin
He looked at her and saw the pain etched deep in her expression. The way her shoulders shook. The way her eyes begged him not to become the same kind of monster who had tried to destroy her.
He pulled his blade back.
Not out of mercy, but somehow, out of restraint.
Then he turned to Amara.
“We’re goin’,” he said, grabbing her hand again. “Now.”
She followed without protest. Her fingers wrapped tight around his.
They ran through the hall, past the broken goblet, past the spilled wine, past the stone that once held her childhood.
And out into the dusk.
The wind had picked up.
The horses waited where they’d been tied, and Rhys was already lifting her onto the saddle before his mind caught up to the horror of what they’d just learned.
Finn.His blood. His brother in all but name.
And Leighton…
He mounted his own horse and turned toward the path. Riding for O’Donnell Keep.
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The wind howled harder the closer they rode to O’Donnell Keep.
Rhys didn’t feel the cold. Not in his limbs. Not in his chest. That space had gone numb long ago. His body ached from blood loss and bruises, but it wasn’t what kept his spine stiff in the saddle. It was the dread.
Beside him, Amara hadn’t said a word in nearly an hour. She rode upright, determined, as if the silence might hold her together. But her jaw was set too tight. Her hands on the reins too white-knuckled.
They crested a hill and the trees thinned.
That’s when Rhys saw the smoke.
He swore.
Thick columns rose in the distance, curling into the darkening sky. The world seemed to tilt.
“Rhys,” Amara said quietly, like she didn’t want to believe it either.
But he already kicked his horse forward, spurring it into a gallop. Amara followed, the sound of hooves crashing against frozen ground the only answer to the horror in his gut.
The road turned, dipping low between the ridges. O’Donnell Keep stood ahead, but not as they’d left it. The western wall had been breached. Torches flickered wildly. Screams echoed. Iron clashed against iron.
The battle was still raging.
God help them.
“Daisy,” he muttered under his breath, searching the outer bailey, desperate for a glimpse of her.
“Rhys —”
“I have to get to her.” His voice cracked, but his eyes were wild with focus.
“I ken that. But ye cannae storm in alone,” Amara said, her horse catching up beside him. “We have to find someone… William… Myles… Nina, even! Anyone!”
