Stars erupted in her vision as her head and back were slammed to the ground, but still, she fought. She pressed her knees into Abraham’s stomach as he tried to pin her to the ground with one hand and she pushed, sending him sprawling backwards a few steps. She turned wildly, beginning to crawl away from him, when her hand pressed into something on the floor.
She almost swept it away and kept going, but as it pressed into the flesh of her palm, she realized what it was. She paused, picked it up, and nearly laughed with relief. It was a key, and she knew exactly what it was to.
“Get back here!” Abraham snarled, ending her brief moment of joy.
Ophelia screamed as she felt his hand wrap around her ankle and jerk her back to him.
“I suppose I am lucky your aim is horrible,” Abraham grit out, capturing hands in one of his eyes as he kept his other hand pressed to his throat.
“Let me go!” Ophelia roared then reared her head upward. Her vision went black. Pain erupted in her forehead as she made contact with Abraham’s. He howled in pain as she head butted him and reared back, loosening his grip on her wrists. She wasted no time waiting for her vision to come back, and moved, this time able to get to her feet. She stumbled toward the door, praying it was unlocked, and nearly wept with joy when she swung it open- only to run abruptly into the chest of one of Abraham’s guards.
“No!” Ophelia screamed, thrashing against the hold she suddenly found herself in.
“Trouble, My Lord,” the guard stated.
“What do you think, you moron!” Abraham snarled, rising to his feet.
“No, My Lord, I am saying that there is trouble outside,” the guard quickly explained. “A band of men just showed up, pistolsdrawn. Yates, Orson and Porter are down. The gates are being broken through!”
“OPHELIA!!!”
Tristan’s roar came thunderously and savagely from outside, and Ophelia could not help but smile.He’d come for her.
“TRIS-”
Ophelia’s answering scream was cut off as she was spun around and Abraham’s massive hand was clamped around her mouth.
“Shut up!” Abraham snarled into her face as the guard held her wrists.
Ophelia looked up at his face, and smirked devilishly behind his hand. He’d tied his kerchief round the wound she’d made with the pen, but there was still a small trickle of blood flowing down his neck and over the collar of his white shirt. The glowing complexion he once wore was now waxy and pale, and that smug expression of confidence was now creased with worry lines.
“OPHELIA!!!” Tristan’s call came again, followed by the sound of a crashing door and stampeding feet.
“What do you want me to do, Lord?” The guard asked.
Abraham muttered a curse and drew a stained hand through his white hair, streaking it with red.
“Give her to me,” Abraham commanded after a moment.
The guard shoved Ophelia roughly toward Abraham, who pinned her hands behind her and turned her around to face the guard.
“Now go stop them,” Abraham commanded, pulling loose his cravat, “But donotkill them!”
“Not until I have the transfer papers,” he then murmured under his breath.
The guard disappeared as a raucous exploded from downstairs. Abraham tied the cravat around Ophelia’s wrists as he dragged her back into the room; slamming the door shut with the kick of his foot.
“Get your hands off me!” Ophelia snarled, fighting his grasp.
Abraham let out a sound of frustration as he thrust her toward the back of the chair, and Ophelia let out a gasping groan as the back edge of it slammed into her stomach. It stunned her, long enough for Abraham to finish tying her hands, then he shoved her into the chair.
From below the shouts of rage and ringing shots grew louder as Abraham hunkered down on his knees and looked Ophelia in the eyes; his gaze threatening.
“I have worked too hard to have this go any way but mine,” he said in a menacing tone. “Now stay here. Or the next life I ruin will be your father’s.”
Ophelia stopped fighting at once as her eyes went wide.
“Leave him out of this,” she whispered.
