Godric nodded once, then climbed into the carriage. As the coachman snapped the reins and they began to move, he leaned back against the seat and closed his eyes.
Please, he thought, though he was not certain to whom – or what – he was praying.Please let me be wrong. Let her be anywhere else. Anywhere but there.
But even as the desperate plea formed in his mind, he knew with cold certainty that he was right.
Luther had taken her. And if Godric did not reach her in time...
It seemed the coachman had sensed his urgency, because the trip was shorter than he remembered it. Soon, they had arrived at the outskirts of London, the improvised people a clear sign of the poverty that was rampant in that area. Once the warehouse was in sight, Godric was out of the carriage before the wheels had fully ceased their motion.
“Wait here,” he ordered the coachman sternly, “If I do not return within half an hour, fetch the constables. Tell them you suspect a murder has taken place.”
The man’s face paled, but he nodded. “Yes, Your Grace.”
Godric did not wait for further confirmation. He strode toward the warehouse, his heart pounding against his ribs with enough force that he could feel it in his throat. Every instinct he possessed was screaming at him to run, to burst through those doors and tear apart anyone who stood between him and Nora.
But he forced himself to approach with caution. If Luther was indeed inside, if he had Nora, then rushing in blindly would only put her in greater danger.
The warehouse door hung slightly ajar, just as it had during his previous visit. Godric paused at the threshold, listening intently.At first, there was only silence. Then, faintly, he heard it – the low murmur of voices from within.
One of them was Luther's.
Godric's hand went to the pistol concealed beneath his coat, his fingers closing around the familiar weight. Then, with a deep breath that did nothing to calm the storm raging inside him, he pushed the door open and stepped inside.
The scene that greeted him was exactly as he had feared, and yet somehow worse than anything his imagination had conjured.
Nora sat on the floor near the centre of the room, her hands bound behind her back and a gag tied across her mouth. Her dress was torn at the shoulder, her hair dishevelled, and the fear in her eyes was visible even from where he stood.
But she was alive. She was breathing. That was all that mattered.
Luther stood a few feet behind her, his posture relaxed in a way that made Godric's blood boil. And beside him, looking significantly more nervous, was Anthony Brown.
All three of them turned as Godric entered, and the expression that crossed Luther's face was one of grim satisfaction.
“Godric,” his uncle said, his voice carrying that same false warmth it always did. “I had wondered how long it would takeyou to find us. I must say, I am impressed by your speed. Then again, you always were a clever boy.”
Godric's gaze flickered to Nora, checking for injuries, before returning to Luther. His hand remained on the pistol beneath his coat, though he did not yet draw it.
“What,” he said, his voice deadly calm, “do you think you are doing?”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Luther's smile widened, though it held no warmth. Instead, there was something calculated in the expression, something that made Godric's skin crawl with recognition. He had seen that look before, countless times throughout his childhood – always when his uncle was about to deliver a lesson, he deemed necessary.
“I am doing what I must,” Luther said simply, spreading his hands in a gesture of false helplessness. “Otherwise, all that we have planned would fall apart. Surely you can understand that, my boy.”
Godric's jaw clenched so tightly he could feel his teeth grinding together. “Is that truly what you believe? Or did you simply grab an innocent woman to force my hand and bend me to your will, as you have always done?”
The words hung in the air between them, sharp and accusatory. For a moment, Luther said nothing. His gaze swept over Godric'sface, searching for something, and then his expression shifted into something closer to resignation.
“So,” he said quietly, “You really did learn the truth.”
It was not a question, but Godric answered anyway.
“Did you truly think you could hide it forever? That I would never discover what you had done?” He took a step forward, his entire body thrumming with barely controlled rage. “Did you believe you would never face the consequences of your actions – especially when you took it as far as raising me to seek revenge from an innocent man?”
Luther's face remained impassive, but something flickered in his eyes. Something that might have been regret, if Godric did not know better.
“I did not think I had any other choice,” Luther said, his voice taking on a defensive edge.
