He gave a short laugh that was more breath than sound. “Good.”
The grind of distant wheels grew a shade louder. Barrington’s head turned. His men lifted their chins almost in unison and took a half step toward the positions they had already chosen. No one spoke.
“Not the road,” Gabriel said softly. “We keep the cut.”
He nudged the gelding forward along the hedge. The horse’s muscles coiled and uncoiled beneath them with the easy strength of an animal that still had miles to give. She let herself breathe with that rhythm. In. Out. In. The night opened ahead. It did not feel empty. It was as if they had chosen the path.
They reached the field’s edge and slid down a narrow strip of turf that paralleled the lane. A low stone stood where water had once marked the boundary of a parish. Gabriel took them behind it and paused again. He could see the bend now and the slow gray roll of fog that caught at the hollow. The coach that would have carried her on ground not of her choosing would soon nose into that mist.
Barrington shifted his bay to the far side. “If they run,” he said.
“They will not,” Gabriel said. His voice held no bravado. Only knowledge. “Not through this ground. Not with the wheels they drive and the weight they carry.”
He turned his head and spoke low to Leticia alone. “When they come into sight, we move only as far as we must. If it breaks, we go straight for the open. Do not look back.”
“I will not,” she said.
He believed her.
A shape stirred at the bend. Lantern hoods shifted. The faintest glimmer winked and died. The team shook out and set a new rhythm. The driver reached to soothe them. He did not know he soothed Leticia’s horse as well. The night drew in a breath and held it.
Gabriel pressed his knees, and the gelding gathered. The world narrowed again. Not to fear. To purpose.
They waited for the bend to give up what it hid. They were ready to take it. They were ready to run with it. They were ready to cut it off.
And when the coach showed its dark nose through the mist, they moved.
And Bracken Hollow, once meant to swallow her, opened its jaws for someone else instead.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Thick iron ringsgroaned as the cell gate swung open. Cold seeped from the stone floor of Sommer Castle’s ancient dungeon, a chill that belonged to older centuries and harsher punishments. Somewhere down the corridor, water dripped steadily into a rusted pan.
Gabriel stepped inside. The torchlight behind him stretched his shadow across the walls in long, dark limbs. Barrington followed, boots striking with crisp authority, while Leticia remained just outside the iron bars, visible through the narrow window, her arms folded firmly, though her fingers pressed into her sleeves to keep from shaking.
The guard captured at Bracken Hollow sat on a wooden chair. His wrists were chained behind him, but his spine remained stubbornly straight until Barrington laid a gloved hand on his shoulder with a quiet pressure that made him flinch.
“Once more,” Barrington said, his voice mild but edged with steel. “Why did you take her. And why Bracken Hollow?”
The man’s jaw worked. His eyes slid toward Gabriel, flicked away as if meeting that gaze were a blow of its own.
“We never wanted the girl,” he muttered. “We wanted what she might lead us to.”
Gabriel didn’t move. The pulse at his temple ticked once and stilled.
“The brooch?” Barrington pressed.
The man nodded. “The sixth piece. The last of the set. No one knew where it had gone after Vienna. All we knew was Robbie Ashcombe handled it before his fall. And that it passed from him into her family. She might have… more than jewelry.”
Leticia exhaled softly behind the wall.
“It isn’t magic,” the guard added quickly, as though that mattered. “But having all six together again, it was something. Proof. Power. A banner to rally behind. The Order was nothing without its symbol.”
Gabriel’s voice cut like a blade drawn slowly. “And once you had the brooch?”
The man licked his lips. “Tresham meant to present the full set to… influential men. Men who’ll pay to resurrect what was lost. The girl would… cease to be an inconvenience.”
Gabriel’s stillness sharpened into danger itself. Barrington caught his sleeve, a silent warning.
