I can survive five more minutes.
The twins stop a few yards from the entrance.
“We had doubts about you,” Cameron says, meeting my eyes directly.
“I know.”
“Mary’s our favorite cousin,” Connor continues. “We don’t want her getting hurt. We want someone worthy of her.”
“I understand.”
“But you didn’t complain. You held your own. And Ragnar stayed with you the entire time.”
Connor offers me his hand.
I shake it, too exhausted to analyze the gesture or what exactly it means within the complicated hierarchy of the McGregor family.
“You’re not bad for a city guy,” Cameron says with half a smile.
“Welcome to the family, Finn,” Connor adds.
Then they head back toward the castle, leaving me standing there covered in mud, soaked, exhausted...
and carrying something dangerously close to acceptance.
Ragnar lets out one final bleat that probably means:
You survived. Well done. Don’t get too comfortable—we’ll test you again.
Or something like that.
Honestly, who knows what goes on inside that sheep’s head?
I shove open the guesthouse door with the energy of a dying zombie.
Mary is sitting in the living room with a book in her hands, hair piled into a messy bun.
She looks up, and her expression instantly shifts from curiosity to horror.
“Oh my God. What happened to you?”
“Your cousins.”
“What did they do to you?”
I collapse onto the couch with a groan that fully reveals the tragic state of my body.
“Traditional Scottish bonding experience. Mountain climbing, freezing river crossings, sheep tracking. Standard family initiation rituals, apparently.”
Mary slams her book onto the coffee table.
“I’m going to kill them. Literally kill them and feed their remains to Hamish.”
“Don’t kill them. They just wanted to make sure I’m worthy of their favorite cousin.”
Something changes in her expression.
I watch anger soften into something gentler in her eyes.
