Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 91416 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 457(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91416 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 457(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Callan stepped forward with a lazy smirk, but Dru saw the shift in his stance—the flicker of caution. “I thought you were dead.”
“You hoped I was,” Knox said, gaze locked on him.
Hakon let out a short, dry laugh. “This is her husband? I’ve split logs thicker than him. I will make her a widow easily enough.”
Knox’s eyes shifted to the man. “You can try but you’ll fail. I don’t let anyone take what belongs to me and Dru belongs to me.”
Hakon spat on the ground. “She’ll be mine soon enough.”
Callan laughed. “You’re the one who will fail and you’re a fool for coming here alone.”
Knox didn’t flinch. “What makes you think I came here alone?”
Glances shifted around nervously.
Another figure stepped past the trees—Quint. His expression was grim, and his hand rested casually on the hilt of his sword.
The warriors around Hakon burst into laughter. Even Callan chuckled. “Two of you? Against all of us?”
But Dru didn’t laugh. Her eyes scanned the horizon, heart beating harder. Knox wouldn’t come without a plan. And he’d never walk into a fight he couldn’t win.
Then she heard it.
The thunder of hooves.
From the northern rise they came—riders cresting the hill in formation. Not just a handful. An army. Flying the banner of Lord Torrance. They rode hard, blades glinting in the early light, war cries already rising into the air.
The laughter died.
Callan’s jaw tightened.
Hakon moved away from her, his hand reaching for his axe.
Dru couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at her lips as her husband strode over to her and winked playfully before taking a protective stance in front of her.
The thunder of hooves died to a heavy silence as Lord Torrance’s army swept across the area, surrounding Callan’s men in a wide arc.
Lord Torrance brought his stallion to a halt in front of Callan and Hakon. He was a beast of a thing, thick-necked and fierce-eyed, stamping the ground as though he too commanded obedience. His warriors around him didn’t cheer. They didn’t need to. Their silence was more terrifying than any war cry.
Dru shivered at the impressive and frightening sight.
Lord Torrance was a man carved from stone and vengeance, known across the Highlands for his brutal tactics, for the way he punished betrayal with fire and steel. Mothers whispered his name to unruly children to make them behave. Men prayed not to catch his eye. And yet he was a man of fine features, a man who foolish women fancied, a man that always got his way.
And now he was here—her half-brother, fierce as ever.
He surveyed the scene with disinterest, then dismounted in one fluid motion, his black cloak sweeping out behind him. His eyes found Dru for a moment—calculating, detached—and then he turned to Callan and Hakon.
“This ends now.”
Callan drew his shoulders back in a gesture of strength. “You overreach, Torrance. Autumn is my granddaughter, and she is coming home with me.”
Torrance’s lips curled slightly. “Your claim means nothing and neither does the proposal you left with Brack. My half-sister’s fate lies in my hands and my hands alone.” He turned to Hakon. “You’ll have no wife today. But fight beside me when the time comes, and I’ll see you matched with a wife worthy of your strength.”
Hakon narrowed his eyes and brazenly said, “What if she does not suit me?”
Lord Torrance pointed to Dru. “Anything would be better than that wisp of a thing. You would be lucky to get one good pounding out of her.”
Hakon laughed.
Knox didn’t. He went to step forward, but Dru caught his arm and whispered, “Let them amuse themselves. We are together. Nothing else matters.” She pressed her brow against his back and murmured, “I love you.”
Her words calmed him, and he stayed as he was, eager to have his wife in his arms soon.
Torrance faced Callan. “You’ve overstepped, attacking a clan under my protection. I’m coming for your lands.”
The words struck like a hammer. Callan’s face twisted in rage. “You smug bastard! You think you can take everything from me?” He surged forward, weapon drawn, eyes wild.
Knox was faster.
He stepped between Torrance and Callan with deadly calm, sword already in hand.
Steel clashed, sparks flared, and Dru’s heart dropped into her stomach.
But Knox was an exceptional warrior. He moved with purpose, every blow calculated, every step solid. Callan fought with fury—sloppy, burning, desperate.
The final blow came swift, a sharp feint, a pivot, and then steel through flesh. Callan crumpled, gasping, disbelief etched across his face as blood pooled beneath him.
Silence followed, broken only by the soft whimper of the wind.
Knox stood over him, chest heaving, blade still in hand, relieved Callan would threaten Dru no more. Now there was only Torrance left to face.
Lord Torrance stepped forward, giving the fallen man one last cold glance before turning to Knox. “Well done.”
He turned to issue orders, his strong voice loud and clear and his words meant to be obeyed.