The rage coming off Harald was a physical heat that made the air vibrate. He loomed over Finley, his knees pinning the man’s chest, his fist raised like a hammer ready to fall.
Enya leaned against Leo, her entire body seized by a violent, uncontrollable shaking. Her knees knocked together and her breath came in ragged, sobbing gasps.
Her terror wasn't for herself anymore. It was for Harald.
She watched his back, the bunched muscles of a man who had stepped off the ledge of reason, and a cold, paralyzing dread settled in her marrow.
Dinnae dae it,if he dies by yer hand, they will call ye a murderer. Ye'll lose everything.
She could see the political noose tightening around Harald's neck with every second he held that blade.
"Harald, stop!" Enya screamed at the same time Leo did.
If he dies by yer hand, the Crown will claim ye a murderer. Ye'll lose everything.
Leo stepped forward, but he halted when Harald turned a fraction of an inch. The look in the Harald’s eyes was that of an executioner.
"He’s mine," Harald growled, the sound a low vibration coming from deep in his chest. His fist tightened, his knuckles white and bloodied from the initial struggle. "He will never touch her again. He will never breathe the same air as her again."
Finley lay in the hay, gasping, his face turning a sickly, mottled purple. His arrogance was finally stripped away to reveal the hollow coward beneath. He looked pathetic.
Enya could see the tightness in Harald’s shoulders, the way he tilted Finley’s head back to expose the pale stretch of the neck with the cold precision of a butcher.
He was about to commit a crime that might haunt them both to the grave.
"Harald! Nay!" Enya shrieked, her voice cracking with the sheer force of her panic as she surged forward, her legs trembling so hard she nearly fell.
Enya stumbled forward, pushing past Leo’s protective arm. She couldn’t feel her legs, and the stinging at her throat was a sharp reminder of how close she’d come to the dark, but she reached for Harald’s arm.
She pressed her palm to the back of his hand.
"Dinnae," she whispered, her voice raw.
Harald didn't move. He stayed frozen, his fist hovering a hair’s breadth from Finley’s skin. "He tried tae kill ye, Enya. He would have watched ye bleed out in the dirt and laughed."
"I ken that," she said, her voice gaining a dry, stubborn strength. She looked down at her brother—this man who shared her blood and had spent his life trying to poison it—and felt nothing but a weary, cold desire to crush him with her boot. "And if ye kill him here, in this shed, ye give him exactly what he wants. Please."
Harald’s eyes flickered to her, the fire in them warring with the logic she was trying to provide.
"We sent the letter, Harald," she reminded him, her thumb stroking the back of his bloodied knuckles. "The king’s word hasnae reached us yet. If ye execute a Highland laird wi’ nay trial, ye give the Cameron clan—and every other enemy ye have—the excuse they need tae rise. Ye’ll spend the rest o' yer life fighting a war o' vengeance, and the keep will never ken peace."
"He daesnae deserve peace," Harald hissed.
"He daesnae," she agreed, her eyes locking onto his, searching for the man who had kissed her knuckles in the forest. "But ye dae.Wedae. Dinnae let his blood be the foundation o' our life together. Let the king judge him."
She leaned in closer, her voice dropping so only he could hear, thick with a fierce, quiet devotion. "Dinnae dae it fer me sake. Ye are the man who showed me mercy when I deserved it least. Be that man now. Fer me."
The silence in the barracks was agonizing. Leo and the guards stood like statues, watching their laird balance on the edge of a precipice. Finley whimpered, a thin, pathetic sound that seemed to disgust Harald more than the threat of a blade.
Slowly—so slowly it felt as if the world had stopped turning—Harald’s fingers loosened. He closed his eyes for a long moment, his forehead dropping toward Finley’s chest as he fought back the tide of his own fury.
When he looked up, there was a new, profound respect in his gaze as he looked at Enya that made her breath hitch.
"Bind him," Harald commanded, his voice flat and iron-hard. He stood up, stepping off Finley. "Chain his hands and his feet. If he so much as looks at the lady, break his legs."
Leo exhaled a breath he seemed to have been holding for a lifetime. "Aye, me jarl."
Harald turned to Enya. He reached out, his hands trembling with a fine, rhythmic shudder as they cupped her face.
