Warton spoke again, steady as stone. “If you do nothing, she may vanish forever. Her family, or whomever these men are, will spirit her away, and she will have no voice in the matter. Is that truly anoutcome you can live with?”
Were these people really nobles?
Maxen’s thoughts churned. Their words scraped at him, each one lodging like a thorn. No matter how he told himself it was none of his business, that she had all the trappings he despised, the picture of her, her laughter, her smile, her sparkling green eyes, rose unbidden. She had chosen Brighton. She had chosen freedom. Damn it, she had chosen him, in her way. Could he stand idle while others stripped her choices from her?
Dagger entered, Prince trotting at his side.
“Cock on a duck,” Reaper muttered.
Maxen’s whole body went cold at the sight.
“Found him outside the tavern,” Dagger said, the lines between his brows furrowed deep.
The tavern seemed to shrink, every sound muffled but the low whine Prince made as he darted forward, sniffing at his feet. The dog’s white fur coat was muddied, his nose nudging insistently toward the door as if demanding that Maxen follow.
For a moment, he couldn’t breathe. The dog had been with her, almost always at her side. And now here he was, alone. “She...” He bent, hand sliding over Prince’s coat.
Maxen straightened, fury exploding anew, his hand still buried in Prince’s fur. The air burned in his lungs, every heartbeat a drumbeat of rage.
What the devil was wrong with him? Why was he standing here debating this? Questioning this? He truly was a damn fool. They’d taken her, stolen her from under his roof, from her shop, from him.
She hadn’t broken her promise.
“Have you come to your senses,frère?”
No one stole from him. No one stoleher. The thought came torn from somewhere deep. His chest felt caged, his blood roaring.
She’d undone him. Remade him.
“I think he has,” Drake noted.
“I’m saddling my horse.”
His words snapped like a whip, jerking the room into motion.
Drake gave one short nod, already turning for the door. Reaper grinned, wicked and savage, his knuckles cracking like he’d been waiting for this since Maxen had returned after finding her gone.
Dagger only exhaled, tension draining from his stance, and muttered, “Thought you’d never bloody say it.”
The other three merely stepped forward silently.
The marchioness nodded. “At last, sir. A sensible decision.”
Maxen shoved to the door, Prince trotting at his heels, the tavern door slamming wide as he strode into the night. The storm inside him broke loose, a beast unchained.
They thought to take Calliope? They would learn what it meant to steal from Maxen Fury.
*
Calliope swore herlimbs were about fall off by the time the carriage lurched to a halt. The door opened to reveal a house she never thought she’d ever set foot in again. Memory crashed over her, swift and merciless. She was a girl again, clutching her books to her chest, hoping for a smile from her stepmother that never came. Her father’s voice, always so gentle, reassuring her by quoting Shakespeare. Rare jewels she had polished over the years in the hope they would shine brighter than the darkness.
A hopeful sentiment.
What lingered was sharper. Duvessa’s voice dripping venom. The attic. The mocking laughter of her stepsisters. But then at the same time more rare jewels in the servants who had helped her.
Just a little longer.
She shouldn’t be here. . . Didn’t belong here . ..
