James’s pulse hammered as the possibilities splintered through his mind, each one worse than the last.
“Did you notice if he stopped anywhere in town?” Thomas stepped closer to the miner. “Maybe went into any buildings?”
The miner shook his head. “Like I said, I only saw him for a minute on the trail. Didn’t see him in town at all.”
Dead end. The information twisted in James’s gut, useless and frustrating. Vincent had been here, had left, and they still had no idea where Rose was.
“We need to check the buildings.” James turned toward the door, his walking sticks already moving. Every second they wasted standing here was another second Rose could be in danger.
Robert’s hand closed around his arm, stopping him. “James, think this through. If Vincent left an hour ago heading northwest, and Rose hasn’t shown up at the livery…”
The unspoken possibility hung between them. Rose might have never reached town. Maybe she avoided Walnut Springs entirely, taking some other route. Or Vincent might have found her before she ever made it this far.
His chest constricted until breathing felt like dragging air through mud. “We have to go after him. We have to know for sure whether it’s Vincent, and if he has Rose.”
He didn’t waste time with more words, just spun and hobbled through the door to the icy darkness outside.
CHAPTER 27
Rose’s head pounded with a vicious ache that made her stomach roil. Pain pulsed behind her eyes in waves that matched the jarring motion beneath her.
Motion?
Her thoughts moved like honey in winter, thick and slow, refusing to connect properly. Cold bit through her clothes—deeper than the mountain air should feel, seeping into her bones until her whole body shook with it. And that smell. Chemical and bitter, coating the inside of her mouth and nose until every breath tasted wrong.
She tried to move, but her arms wouldn’t respond. Her legs felt distant, heavy, like they belonged to someone else entirely. The darkness behind her eyelids pressed down with weight, and forcing them open took more effort than climbing a mountain.
The world tilted sideways.
No…she was sideways.
Draped over something hard that dug into her ribs with each jarring step. A saddle. She was draped over a saddle, face down, the leather grinding into her ribs as the horse beneath her plodded forward.
Memories eased in through her foggy mind.
The boarding house. The hallway. Vincent’s face appearing in the doorway, his cold eyes widening with recognition and triumph. She’d tried to run, tried to scream, but he’d been too quick.
He grabbed her and clamped his hand over her mouth before sound could escape. The struggle became brief and futile. Especially when he pressed a cloth against her face. That awful chemical smell filled her lungs as the world dissolved into darkness.
He must have given her something to force sleep.
The horse beneath her halted and relief eased through her aching middle. But then rough hands grabbed her waist, hauling her down. Her legs buckled when they touched ground, and she would have collapsed if Vincent’s grip hadn’t tightened, holding her upright with harsh force.
“Careful now.” His voice cut through the ringing in her ears, cold and conversational, like they were discussing the weather instead of her kidnapping. “You’ll hurt yourself if you fall.”
She tried to speak, tried to scream, but her throat was raw and her tongue felt thick and useless. The sound that escaped was barely a whimper.
“None of that.” Vincent’s fingers dug into her arms as he dragged her forward. “Save your voice. You’ll need it soon enough.”
The world tilted and swayed with each forced step. Her boots scraped against frozen ground, then wood—a porch, maybe? The details wouldn’t come into focus. Everything blurred at the edges, her focus slipping away every time she tried to grasp it.
A door creaked open. The smell hit her first—rotten wood and animal droppings mixed with something older, deeper—the stench of abandonment. A building left empty too long.
Vincent kicked something aside, and the scrape of wood against wood echoed in the enclosed space. Then he shoved her, and she stumbled forward, her knees hitting what felt like a chair. The impact sent fresh waves of nausea churning through her stomach.
“Sit.” His hand pressed down on her shoulder, forcing her onto the seat. The wood creaked beneath her weight, unsteady, like it might collapse at any moment.
She tried to focus on his face, but the features kept swimming in and out of clarity. Just the sharp line of his jaw. The cold calculation in his eyes. That awful smile playing at the corners of his mouth.
