They weren’t searching for Georgina anymore. They were hunting the man who thought he could take her and vanish. And none of them would rest until he learned what that mistake would cost.
Chapter Thirty
The road southwestof Sommer-by-the-Sea narrowed quickly.
By the time they’d passed the last of the hedgerows and scattered farmsteads, there were no more milestones. No more foot traffic. Just coarse gravel, thick brambles, and the occasional half-toppled stone wall overgrown with moss. The autumn wind funneled through the hollows like a whisper passed too many times between people. The hooves of their horses thudded dully against the rutted track, muffled by damp leaves and packed soil. Even the birds were silent.
Alex kept to the ridgeline, reins loose in his gloved hands, eyes never leaving the track below. Simms rode half a length behind, silent as ever, his coat collar turned up and his gaze alert.
A single crow passed overhead, its cry stark against the hush. Alex didn’t flinch, but he noted it. His senses were strung tight as wire.
They had watched Everly calmly leave Ravenstock. No rush. No secrecy. The same polished indifference he always wore like a well-cut coat. Now, more than an hour later, his carriage was little more than a black smudge on the road ahead.
“He’s headed toward the old quarry,” Simms said quietly. “Near the woods just past the second rise.”
Alex nodded. He knew the place. Most locals did. The mine had long since shut down. It was too shallow and too unstable. There had been a cave-in twenty years earlier. Two men had died. The company had boarded it up, posted a warning, and moved on.
But men like Everly didn’t need stability. They needed privacy. And if they needed secrecy… they didn’t plan to leave witnesses.
They crested a hill, and Alex pulled his horse to a halt, raising one hand. Below, half-obscured by the rise and a copse of wind-stunted oaks, sat a low stone building with a slate roof gone uneven. The chimney smoked faintly. There was no sign of livestock. No cart. No activity. The surrounding land was bare, too bare as if anything that could bear witness had already been swept away.
Everly’s carriage pulled into view. It turned off the main road and disappeared behind the slope.
Alex dismounted. So did Simms.
They moved to the edge of the rise and knelt behind the heather, watching.
Ten minutes passed. Then twenty.
Finally, the door opened. Everly stepped out and spoke briefly to a man in a heavy coat. The man nodded once and disappeared back inside. Everly remained a moment longer, looking out at the landscape as if admiring the bleakness. Then he turned and followed the man inside.
Simms murmured, “One entrance. One man on guard. Maybe more inside.”
Alex didn’t answer. His eyes were fixed on the closed door. Locked. No sound. No movement.
But she was in there. He felt it. Every instinct, every muscle in his body knew it like he knew his own heartbeat. It wasn’t logic that told him. It was the quiet pull that had bound them from the beginning, the knowing that neither of them ever needed words to find the other.
“You go back,” he said at last, his voice low and firm. “Tell Barrington. Bring them back quickly.” He didn’t look away from the door. “I’ll be here when it opens.”
Simms hesitated, then nodded. “I’ll be back with Barrington as soon as I can.”
Simms turned and slipped away into the trees.
Alex stayed where he was, unmoving, watching. Waiting. The wind stirred the heather. The chimney smoked. But the door remained closed.
*
Simms met Barringtonin the Ravenstock study, a map already unfurled across the table. Candlelight glinted off brass compasses and a row of sealed envelopes. The windows were shut against the wind, the curtains drawn. Outside, dusk had fallen fast.
Simms gave the report. Direct. Efficient. A single entry point. No visible movement apart from Everly and a presumed guard. Chimney smoke confirmed recent habitation. There was no reason for anyone to be there unless they were hiding something.
Barrington’s brow furrowed. “It could be a decoy. Or a trap.” He rubbed a thumb across the edge of the map, as if he could smooth out every path that might end badly.
Simms looked at him. “You think he staged the whole thing?”
“I think he knows we’re close,” Barrington said. “Too close. We’ve been knocking over stones for weeks. They’re running out of places to hide. If Everly was sent to clean up the mess, he might want us watching him while the rest of the Order disappears.”
“They could be holding Lady Georgina to force a trade,” Simms stated, his voice matter-of-fact.
