And in the corner…the pit.
I hesitate on the threshold, dragging my feet, eyes locked on that gaping hole.
“Your last chance.” Campbell’s voice is rich with amusement. He’s poured himself a drink and watches me as he sips. Smiles. “You might find I’m merciful. But first you must tell me who you really are.”
I blink away tears. “I told you. My name is Rose Campbell. My mother is Janet Camp?—”
His hand cracks across my face before I realize he’s moved.
“Liar.”
Fire spreads across my cheek. I squeeze my eyes shut, wishing it all away, but when I open them again, I’m still here. Still trapped in this nightmare.
And staring at a portrait of my mother.
A startled cry rips from my throat. A child’s bark of fear and confusion.
I feel Campbell’s stare as I take in the painting. Janet is young—so young—but it’s undeniably her. The same auburn hair. The same pale, perfect skin. The same clear blue eyes I spent my childhood aching to see turned my way.
“How can it be?” Campbell murmurs. “She had no sisters. No female cousins. And yet…you’re so like her.”
He steps closer, voice softer, almost wondering. I glance back at him before I can stop myself.
“Who?” I whisper. I need him to say it. To say her name. Otherwise, this is just too unreal.
His voice dips to something fragile. “Janet.” Then it hardens again. “My Janet. You resemble her.”
“I should. She’s my mother.”
The moment the words leave my lips, his entire expressionshifts. The domineering laird is back. “Impossible. My Janet is only nineteen. What do you know? Explain this farce. Who’s taken her?”
Callum’s words crash over me.A single month has passed. One cycle of the moon.
Campbell’s men step forward, hands drifting to their swords.
I scramble for words. “The Janet I know—she’s my mother. She’s thirty-eight now?—”
“Lies!” His rage is instant, violent. He lunges, grabs a fistful of my hair, and drags me toward the pit.
I scream as pain rips through my scalp. My hands fly to his, gripping, clawing. My feet scrape the stone floor, but I can’t slow him.
At the pit’s edge, I thrash harder. A man stands on the other side, grinning as he pisses into the hole.
“Perhaps a week in this dung hole will shake the truth from you.”
“Please,” I gasp. “Please, I’m telling the truth.”
He grunts. Jerks me forward. My feet skid until my toes are dangling over open air.
“Stop!” The shout splits the air.
Callum.
Men restrain him, but he shakes them off. One of them hesitates. “The lad says he knows her.”
I stare at Callum, willing him to look at me, but his eyes are locked on Campbell.
He bows deeply. “My sincerest apologies, my laird. The lass is ours. Donag hired her to help with the animals.” He continues, faster now. “I beg your mercy. Please release her. She’s addled in the head, as you can see.”
