The fire was crawling across the barn roof and the walls, eating up timber beams that supported the structure. It clawed with great long flames like curling fingers, a veritable monster that wanted to devour everything in its path.
Then Seth saw her. Charity was slumped against a nearby wall, covered in ash and soot, her eyelids unmoving.
“No…” he breathed as he ran to her. He did not waste a second checking her breathing or pulse this time—he scooped her in hisarms and carried her, one arm under her waist and the other under her legs, carrying her out of the barn.
The fire threatened to engulf him, the flames closing in around them, but Seth had suffered burns already once in his life. And he would take any amount of scarring if it meant getting Charity out of here alive.
This time, he didn’t hesitate.
He strode through the small gap where the door once was and into the open air. Lumbering forward, he pushed further and further away, until they were deep in the long grass, where he lowered Charity, sinking to the earth with her.
“Cherry, Cherry, please. Please wake up.” He cradled her face in trembling hands, pressing a kiss to her forehead and then reaching for her neck. He was moving too erratic, too frantically, to possibly seek out a pulse. “Please!” When her eyelids gave the faintest twitch, a sliver of hope pierced the despair enveloping him.
“Move away from her, Seth.”
That command stopped him cold.
Seth stilled, his protective hold over Charity tightening a touch as he glanced to his far left. Standing there, half cloaked by the shadow of the hedges that surrounded the field was Luke. In his hand was a flintlock pistol, and it was pointed dead at Charity.
“What in the devil are you doing?” Seth growled.
“Step away from her.”
“No.” Seth’s voice was resolute, his arms encircling around Charity’s delicate frame further. He prayed for her eyelids to flutter again, but they remained firmly closed.
“She needs to be gone,” Luke spat venomously. “Can’t you see, man?” His gaze darted between Charity’s still form and Seth's countenance. “Don’t you see what her family did to ours? How they ruined us. How they tore both of our families apart. And yet you sit here cradling her, as if their memories were in vain!”
“What madness has overtaken you!? She is not her father!”
“She is his blood. Just as Arthur was my blood, and your father was your blood,” Luke said wildly. “And their family deserves no less. Now, move away, Seth. This must happen.” He inched forward, keeping that pistol pointed at Charity, but Seth clung harder to her, holding her so close that it must have been hard for Luke to try and get a shot that wouldn’t go through Seth in the process.
“Seth? Is it you?” Charity's voice, barely above a whisper, brought his gaze downward. Her eyes, mere slivers of awareness, met his. She tried to cough, and Seth clapped her on the back, helping her to clear her lungs. She fell against him and he held her tighter still as Luke advanced toward them, his firearm wavering as he tried to get the shot.
“No,” Seth swiveled Charity around, holding him to her chest with his back turned to Luke. “You want to hurt her, then you’ll have to kill me first, Luke.”
A soft whimper escaped Charity’s throat as her hand tried to close around Seth’s bicep, her strength failing.
“Monty? Monty! Where are you, you dolt!” Luke shouted for his henchman. “Get her. Get the woman away from him!”
Seth’s gaze shifted to a retreating silhouette in the surrounding darkness, only visible by the distant glow of the inferno setting siege to the barn. He was backing up across the fields, his figure diminishing with each step.
“What in the blazes are you doing? Get over here!” Luke raged at him.
“No, sir! You never mentioned nothing about anyone kicking the bucket!” Monty shouted back, shaking his head, before bolting across the fields like a bat out of hell.
“You coward!” Luke yelled after the man’s retreating figure. “Seth, move. Move now. She’s as good as dead anyway,” Luke strode closer, brandishing the firearm with increasing recklessness. Soon, he was mere yards away, the flintlock pistol trained at point-blank range, though he was visibly too afraid to take the shot lest it pierce through to Seth.
“No…” Charity breathed, panting heavily as her fingers dug into Seth’s arm. Luke’s glare lowered immediately to Charity’s visage at her words.
In the fleeting moment that followed, Seth spotted an opening.
In Luke’s distraction, the pistol’s aim had shifted slightly.
Seth’s hands released Charity immediately and seized the barrel of the gun instead, yanking the muzzle and training it on himself.
“Seth…” Charity called to him as he staggered to his feet.
“No. Don’t do this!” Luke demanded, wrestling with him to regain control of the pistol.
