Then he turned away. “No.”
The word landed like a slap.
Fiona inhaled sharply, pride trying to swallow the ache beneath it. “Fine. If ye willna have my help, I’ll leave.”
He didn’t respond.
Not one word.
That… hurt more than it should have.
She mounted her horse with stiff shoulders. “Good night to you, Mackenzie.”
“Aye,” he said without turning. “Safe travels, lass.”
Something in her wilted as she rode into the dark.
Alone.
The forest encompassed her.
Moonlight slit through the branches, silvering the narrow path. Fiona tightened her cloak against the night chill.
“Stubborn, impossible man,” she muttered under her breath. “Let him rot in a bog. I hope he chokes on his—”
A twig snapped.
She stilled.
Her horse’s ears pricked.
Another snap.
Boot on stone.
“I know you’re there,” she called, straightening her spine. “If ye mean to rob me, you’ll be sorely disappointed.”
Three shadows stepped onto the path.
Red.
Coats.
One smirked. “Look what wandered into our woods, boys.”
Fiona’s pulse spiked. “I’m on my way home.”
“Home?” The lead soldier prowled closer, the smile on his lips thin as a blade. His gaze swept over her with slow, practiced cruelty. “Pretty girl like you shouldn’t be out alone.”
“I like the quiet,” she said stiffly.
“Oh, she likes the quiet,” he repeated with a chuckle, glancing over his shoulder. “Hear that, boys? She’s lookin’ for a peaceful night.”
A low ripple of laughter—dark, hungry—rolled through the trees.
Before she could wheel her horse around, he seized the bridle and wrenched.
The world snapped sideways.
