He grabbed one of the strings on her leather armor.
That was enough for Willow. She cocked her head to the side and rammed her balled fists into his stomach. As he gasped, bending over, she slammed her fists up into his jaw, pushing him back onto the floor.
She had to find the dagger. She knew where he put it approximately and dropped to her knees, sweeping her bound hands over the dark wooden floor.
Her fingers brushed the handle, sending it spinning into darkness.
“You bitch,” Verm growled, coming up behind her.
She lashed out with her foot, kicking him in the face before crawling quickly to the door.
“You broke my nose!” Verm hollered, holding his hands to his bleeding appendage.
She reached up with her bound hands and grasped the door handle.
Verm grabbed a fist full of her hair and pulled her to her feet.
Willow hated when men grabbed her hair. Pain shot through her head, but she remembered her father’s words. “Fight. The top of the foot is very sensitive, and if you use enough force, you can break bones.” She brought the heel of her boot down hard on the top of Verm’s foot.
Verm cried out in agony, releasing her.
Willow lurched forward, and yanked the door open with enough force that it banged against the wall.
She would have liked to locate that dagger but getting away was more important. She stepped into the hallway, looking both ways.
Verm’s men were charging up the stairs.
She whipped her head around in the other direction. A shuttered window was at the end of the hallway. She began running toward it. It was her only escape. She wouldn’t have time to stop and open it.
She turned her shoulder to the wooden shutter to get more force behind the impetus and hit it with all her might. The crash was deafening. The shutter splintered and fractured around the power of her momentum. She saw it break and flutter to the ground, her body following through the air, weightless and free before plummeting to the ground. She landed hard on her side, the impact driving a sharp pain into her shoulder. Every muscle in her body ached. She lay breathless on the ground, her vision clouded by white lights. She pushed herself into a sitting position.
She looked up to see Verm’s men at the window.
She had to escape. As she climbed to her feet, her world spun from the agony spearing her arm. She stiffened her arm, trying not to move it, and stumbled toward the tree line.
Far down the road, a man rode a horse toward her.
She thought she heard her name and attempted to hurry, but her steps were wobbly. Footsteps plodded behind her from the inn, and she didn’t dare glance over her shoulder.
The safety of the trees was still distant. She wasn’t going to make it. She needed a weapon. Her sword was still in the main room of the inn. Her shoulder ached with every one of her steps, and she attempted to force the anguish aside as she searched the ground for a weapon. The dirt beneath her feet crunched. She spotted a branch and grabbed it with her bound hands as she ran.
Someone seized her wounded arm, slowing her run and sending agony through her body. It felt as though knives were stabbing into her shoulder.
She whirled, bringing the branch around. In that brief moment, she saw Simon’s man.
He ducked and tackled her, shoving her to the ground.
She landed on the ground on her back. Blinding lights of pain dotted her vision, and her world spun.
As the soldier bent to seize her tied arms, she weakly arced the branch, hitting him in the cheek. He staggered but tore the branch from her grip. He stood, hauling her to her feet by her tied wrists. The movement jarred her shoulder, wrenching it, so it felt as if he were ripping her arm out, and she couldn’t help but cry out.
“Get her!” Verm called, walking toward her. He clutched a bloodied rag to his nose as he limped across the expanse.
Pain radiated from her shoulder, and Willow held her arm stiffly to her side.
“She is bound and still escaped you?” Simon approached, shaking his head with an amused grin on his lips.
The moonlight hid behind a cloud as if it didn’t want to touch him.
