Chapter Seventeen
“When?” Christian demanded.
The farmer turned to him, eyeing his sword.
As Christian sheathed his weapon, Willow introduced them. “William, this is Christian Sterling.”
William’s gaze moved over him, and he finally nodded as if in approval. Then, William swung his gaze to Willow. “She was here just over a day ago with a man named Marcus.”
“Was she well?” Willow asked in concern.
“Oh, yes,” William said enthusiastically.
Christian narrowed his gaze. “And she didn’t try to escape?”
“Escape?” William echoed, confused.
“From Marcus,” Willow clarified.
William shook his head. “She said they were working together.”
Christian pulled back, startled.
Willow cocked her head in confusion. How could they be working together?
William took hold of Willow’s arm and lowered his voice. “They had to leave. There were assassins after them.”
Willow’s brows rose in surprise. “Assassins?” She rubbed her forehead as her head swam. What was going on? Sage was working with Marcus, and assassins were after them?
“We helped all we could.”
Willow nodded. “I know. Thank you.” She embraced William.
Christian glanced at the door. “Where did they go?”
“They didn’t tell us.”
Willow frowned. “What about Father or Raven? Have you seen them?”
“No. Not either of them.”
Willow chewed on her lower lip as she locked eyes with Christian. She couldn’t acknowledge her fear for her father. She had to keep focused. Find Sage. Then she would find her father and Raven. Her family was in danger; she knew it. Ripples crept along her shoulders. She fought the tears from her eyes.
“Spend the night here,” William offered kindly. “There is plenty of room in the barn. We’ll figure this out.”
Willow nodded, but she was trembling. As William led them toward the rear door and the barn, Christian drew her tight against him. “It will be well.”
She clutched him. “I don’t know where Raven is,” she whispered. “And father...”
“I’m here, Willow,” he whispered, stroking her back. “I’m here.” His breath feathered and warmed her ear. “I won’t leave you.”
Startled at the admission, she looked for confirmation in his eyes. His brilliant blue eyes glimmered with assurance. Willow rested her head against his shoulder. His pledge, the vow in his eyes, gave her courage. He wouldn’t leave her. And he was all she had.
Verm and his men walked down the road and out of le Carla as darkness fell over the land. His jaw ached from the blow of Willow’s man, and he spat on the ground, cursing the Hawkes. Now, he and his men would have to camp in the woods on the cold ground. “I could have taken them,” he told his two friends. “But the rogue caught me off guard.”
Brewer, the man with beefy arms, scoffed in disbelief.
Verm shoved him hard. “It’s true! You think I can’t take that woman?”
“She’s a Hawke,” Payne, his friend with the double chin, answered as he twirled a knife through his fingers.
“Did you say Hawke?” a voice came from the shadows at the side of the road.
“Mind your business,” Payne snapped.
“I am.” His black armor gleamed beneath the moonlight as he guided his steed onto the road. A soldier rode beside him, his lip swollen and his eye blackened. “The blonde Hawke girlismy business.”
Verm knew an opportunity when he saw one. He rubbed the tips of his fingers together. “What is it worth to you?”
A grin lifted the corner of the leader’s lips. “Much.”
