A hand snared her cloak, yanked her backward, and before she could scream, she was slammed against a tree trunk, bark scraping her back through her garments.
“I said don’t run,” he growled, voice low, breath steaming the air between them. “I should cut you like I said I would, but that will come later. For now?—”
He backhanded her.
Stars burst behind her eyes, and her cheek felt like it was on fire, but she didn’t cry out. She wouldn’t give him that. She would not tremble in fear or plead for mercy. She would fight.
Once again, his fingers dug into her arm as he dragged her into the woods. “You’re going to beg for death before I’m done with you.”
The forest swallowed them, and Esme nearly lost all hope but the thought of never seeing Ryland again filled her heart with such pain that it revived her courage, her hope, and she kept alert, her mind turning with ways to escape and a silent prayer on her lips.
A voice suddenly rang out, sharp and sure. “Let her go.”
Roland froze and Esme along with him.
From the shadows stepped Hakon, tall and broad-shouldered, his expression cold as ice, and a large axe angled low at his side.
“Let her go. Or die where you stand.”
Esme’s breath caught, her legs nearly giving out with relief.
Roland let out a cold laugh and turned, dragging her partially behind him as he faced the northern chieftain. “You came alone, then?” He cast a hasty glance around, then grinned. “Brave, but foolish.”
“I came to end this,” Hakon warned.
Roland laughed and lifted his chin. At his signal, eight men stepped from the trees behind him, Rennoch warriors, hard-eyed and armed, fanning out like wolves circling prey.
“You’ll be dead before your blade swings, Northman.”
Hakon didn’t move, didn’t show an ounce of fear. “She’s not yours to take.”
Roland pressed the dagger to Esme’s side again, drawing a sharp gasp from her lips. “And yet I’ve taken her.”
Hakon’s grip tightened on the handle of his axe.
And just behind him, deeper in the woods… another shadow moved.
Roland’s blade pressed harder to Esme’s side, just enough for her to feel the threat behind his grin. “Nine against one,” he said with a shrug. “That’s poor odds, Northman.”
Hakon didn’t flinch. His eyes stayed locked on Roland, unreadable. “I agree. It is poor odds… for you.”
One of the Rennoch warriors shifted just enough to draw attention, then lunged.
Hakon turned and swung, catching the man in the side with his axe before he could complete his swing. But the move exposed him for a single heartbeat.
A second Rennoch warrior darted in from behind.
A flash of movement, a quick jab to the neck, and the warrior staggered, then dropped.
Behind him stood Una, dagger in her hand, blood dripping from it. Her eyes never left Hakon as she muttered, “You’re welcome.”
Hakon grinned. “I knew you’d make a good wife.”
“In your dreams,” she called out as they both turned to face two more warriors.
Esme tried again to twist free, but Roland held fast, using her like a shield. “Kill him,” he spat to the others, eyes darting, calculating. “And her, whoever she is.”
A roar split the trees.