The mercenaries exchanged glances.Then, as one, they moved forward.
“Declan!”Elijah called, not taking his eyes off the advancing men.
“Already here, me laird!”Declan appeared at Elijah’s side, his sword drawn and ready. Blood stained his shirt, not his own, Elijah noted with grim satisfaction. “Just like old times, aye?”
“Aye. Just like old times.”
The three mercenaries rushed them,but they were disorganized, undisciplined. Hired thugs who’d probably never faced real warriors before.
Elijah and Declanhad been training together for fifteen years. Had fought side by side in more battles than either could count. They moved like water, like dancers, anticipating each other’s movements without needing words.
Elijah tookthe one on the left. Steel clashed against steel, the sound ringing through the clearing.
The first manwent down quickly, a feint high, then a strike low that took out his knee. He fell with a scream, and Elijah’s pommel to his temple silenced him.
The second was more skilled,actually managing to block Elijah’s first three strikes. But on the fourth, Elijah twisted his wrist in a move his father had beaten into him years ago, disarming the man. A swift kick to the chest sent him sprawling.
Declan was having similar success.One of his opponents was already unconscious on the ground. The other was backing up, his sword raised defensively, clearly rethinking his life choices.
“Yield,”Declan said pleasantly. “I promise the dungeons are relatively comfortable.”
The man droppedhis sword and raised his hands.
“Smart lad,”Declan said. “Now, on yer knees. Hands behind yer head.”
Elijah turned backto Findlay and Paisley. They’d tried to use the distraction to run, but they’d only made it a few steps before freezing when they realized they had nowhere to go.
Findlay’sface twisted with desperate rage. “This isnae over! Ye think ye’ve won, but we’ll tell everyone what ye did! How ye attacked innocent people! How ye are wicked.”
He charged forward,his fists raised, trying to overwhelm Elijah with sheer desperation if not skill.
Elijah didn’t even bother drawinghis sword. He simply stepped aside, letting Findlay’s momentum carry him past, then delivered a single, precise punch to the man’s jaw.
Findlay dropped like a stone,unconscious before he hit the ground.
“Pathetic,”Elijah said, looking down at him with disgust. “Ye’re absolutely pathetic. One hit. That’s all it took.”
He turned to Paisley,who had dropped her knife and was now cowering against the tree, her hands raised in surrender.
“Please,”she whimpered. “Please, we dinnae mean to make ye angry. We were just?—”
“Just what? Just tryin’to extort money from me by threatenin’ yer own daughter? Just hirin’ men to kidnap her? Just slashin’ her with a knife when she refused to cooperate?” Elijah’s voice was deadly quiet. “Which part of that was ‘just’ anythin’?”
“We’re desperate!We’re in debt! We had nay choice!”
“Ye always have a choice,”Elijah said. “And ye chose wrong. Over and over again. And now ye’ll pay for those choices.”
He turned to Declan,who’d finished securing the conscious mercenary. “Take them to the dungeons. All of them. I’ll deal with them tomorrow.”
“With pleasure, me laird.”Declan grabbed Findlay’s unconscious form, slinging him over his shoulder like a sack of grain. “What about the dead one?”
“Leave him for now.Send men back to collect the body.” Elijah glanced at the mercenary he’d killed and felt nothing. No guilt. No remorse. The man had threatened Piper. That was enough.
Declan began herdingthe prisoners back toward the castle, Paisley stumbling along in shock, the other mercenaries battered and defeated. Their voices faded into the darkness.
Elijah stood alonein the clearing for a moment, his heart still racing, adrenaline still singing through his veins.
Then he hearda soft sound behind him. A whimper of pain.
