As soon asAndrea was laid down, the healer began her examination with practiced hands.
“This is a nasty blow,but her breathing is steady. Her skull doesnae seem cracked, just stunned badly.”
“Will she be all right?”Hector demanded, hovering over the table like a guard dog.
“Aye,but she needs rest and quiet.”
Noah’s facewas grim as he took in Andrea’s condition. “Christ, what happened?”
“Someone took Gabriella.”The words tasted like poison on Hector’s tongue. “Get every man ye can find. It’s time we hunt.”
He leaneddown to kiss his mother’s forehead, and then he moved, his mind shifting into the cold, calculating focus that had kept his clan alive through countless battles. Beneath that icy control, rage burned like molten iron—a fury so complete it threatened to consume everything in its path.
“The gardens,”he bit out as Noah fell into step beside him. “That’s where it happened.”
They reachedthe gardens within minutes, and it didn’t take them long to spot the signs of struggle. Trampled flowers, droplets of blood on the stone walkway, scuff marks in the dirt where someone had been dragged against their will.
Each pieceof evidence made the thing in his chest grow larger and hungrier.
“Tellme how the hell a madman got past our defenses!”
A young guard approached nervously.“Me Laird, about security… we’ve had workers comin’ and going all day, bringin’ supplies for tomorrow’s weddin’ feast. The gates have been open since dawn.”
Hector’s face went white.In all the excitement of wedding preparations, they’d left themselves vulnerable.
“God help whoever took Gabriella,”he whispered.
“Here,”Noah said, crouching beside a broken branch stained with blood—Andrea’s blood. “And there. See the boot prints? Heavy, deep. A man’s weight.”
Hector was already followingthe trail, his eyes picking out details most men would miss. Disturbed leaves, a blue thread caught on a thorn bush, the faint impression of a woman’ssmaller footprint sliding in the mud as she was dragged against her will.
Gabriella’s footprints.
Hector pausedand studied the ground. “Just ye and I should be enough. The tracks show only one man.” His voice was flat, deadly.
Noah nodded. “Aye, Me Laird.”
They reached the tree line,and Hector paused, his trained eyes reading the forest floor. The trail was clear—whoever had taken Gabriella wasn’t trying to hide it.
“Hector.”Noah’s voice was careful. “Whoever did this kenned the castle’s routine. He kenned when the gardens would be empty. This wasnae random—he chose the day before yer weddin’ to strike.”
The truth hitHector like a physical blow. So, they’d wanted to hurt him by taking her.
“Then we find him,”he said simply. “And we make him regret it.”
He plunged into the forest,Noah close behind. The trail was fresh—couldn’t be more than an hour old. Branches whipped at his face as he moved through the undergrowth with fluid grace. This was his land, McCulloch territory, for generations.
“Blood,”Noah said quietly, pointing to crimson on a fallen log. “Fresh.”
Hector’s jaw clenched.The forest grew denser as they climbed higher, ancient oaks creating a thick canopy.
“There,”he whispered, holding up a hand. “Do ye hear that?”
They froze,listening. Faint voices came—one rough and male, the other thinner, strained with fear.
Gabriella.
Every musclein Hector’s body coiled like a spring as he moved toward the sound, each step placed with predatory precision. The voices were coming from a clearing ahead, maybe fifty yards through the trees. Close enough that he could hear every word if he listened carefully.
