Page 12 of My Noble Disgrace

Cait faced him with rage on her face and an axe in her hands. Her gaze flitted to me for the briefest moment before returning to the Enforcer. Lachlan knelt in the sand behind Cait. He gripped his left upper arm, blood flowing from under his fingers. His face was pale and dazed.

I dashed into the trees before the Enforcer could turn and see me. Hiding behind a tree trunk, I peered through the foliage. There couldn’t be only one Enforcer. Their boat would require several sailors, but maybe they were cautious about leaving it unattended after their last one never returned.

“Drop the axe.” The Enforcer widened his stance and pointed the pistol toward Cait. “Should you fail to surrender peacefully,I shall inform the Academy that we were forced to act in self-defense.”

“I’ll drop my weapon if you drop yours,” Cait said.

The trees rustled behind me. Oliver crept through the undergrowth, a wooden beam in his hands.

“Run,” he whispered as he reached my side.

I stayed put. I wouldn’t leave Cait.

The Enforcer kept the pistol pointed at her. “You have no room for negotiation. The only reason I haven’t shot you already is because the Academy prefers you alive—though that is not strictly required.”

“What about him?” She glanced back at Lachlan, whose blood dripped down his arm and spilled onto the sand. “What’s to stop you from shooting him again?”

I couldn’t stand here and watch. I was sure someone would die if I stayed back. I ripped the beam from Oliver’s arms and charged from the trees, swinging it at the Enforcer with all my strength.

The beam cracked as it collided with the back of his head. His pistol dropped and he fell forward, landing facedown in the sand.

Cait’s eyes widened. “Mara, behind?—”

I spun. Before I could register who was there, they smashed into me, knocking me to the ground beside the man I’d knocked out cold. I gasped, my breath stolen from my lungs, and I rolled over to fight him off.

But the man pinned me down and pressed a pistol to my forehead.

I froze, my desire to fight overpowered by my will to live as I stared back at him. I knew this particular Enforcer. I’d run into him multiple times as Bryn Yarrow. He was young, short, and every square inch of his ruddy face told me he recognized me, too.

Another Enforcer, a woman with dark hair, ran toward us with an enormous weapon pointed toward Cait. The sight made my blood run cold. The weapon was unlike any I’d seen—glossy black and at least four times the length of a regular pistol. I couldn’t imagine the pain it was capable of inflicting.

The female Enforcer reached us and stood over me, keeping her huge gun up. “Is this Stroud?”

The short Enforcer nodded. “Absolutely.”

My stomach iced over. My secret was out.

“Turn her over, Dunn,” she said.

The short Enforcer—Dunn—removed the cold metal barrel from my forehead and rolled me over until my face pressed into the sand. I squeezed my eyes and mouth shut against the coarse grains as he pulled my hands behind my back and forcefully cuffed my wrists. Then his hand wrapped around my hair and yanked me to my feet, keeping his pistol at my back.

I screamed in pain and anger but was otherwise helpless.

The woman faced me, her expression cold and unfeeling. “Mara Stroud, you’re under arrest for high treason. Or do you prefer to be called Bryn Yarrow?”

I glared back at her but had nothing to say to defend myself. My gaze scanned the tree line, instinctively searching for a rescuer, wondering if Orrin would still step in. The terrified part of me wanted someone to protect me from my fate. The stronger part hoped no one would, not against this firepower. I hoped they’d keep themselves safe and let the Enforcers take me. I was the guilty one, after all.

The Enforcer kept the monstrous black weapon braced against her shoulder and stepped closer to Cait.

Her eyes fixed on the huge gun, Cait finally dropped the axe, but she didn’t step away from Lachlan.

“You must be Caitria Farrel,” said the woman. “You’re under arrest as an accomplice.”

Cait stared back at the Enforcer as if she held equal authority. I wasn’t sure who’d given us away—the fisherman we left on the docks was a possibility, of course—but I also regretted trusting Maeve Brennin. It had been a risk to think she’d stay quiet and take the blame.

The man I’d knocked out began to stir. He groaned and pushed himself to his knees, then his feet, giving us a look of searing hatred. He pulled a pair of handcuffs from his belt and went to Cait, latching them onto her wrists and shoving her forward.

Lachlan stumbled to his feet. He still held his bleeding arm, watching with desperation in his eyes.

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