Chapter Seventeen
Marcus stood motionless, his eyes wide with shock. Raven lunged forward; her face contorted in rage. She pressed Willow back against the wall, the impact causing Willow to gasp. In a flurry of motion, Willow shoved Raven and retaliated, snatching Raven’s shoulders and propelling her backward. Raven held onto Willow’s torso with a strong grip. The force of Willow’s throw sent them to the ground in a tangle of limbs.
Sage stepped behind Marcus.
Willow straddled Raven and tried to get a grip on her flailing arms, but Raven slipped out of her hold to yank Willow’s long braid, making her gasp in pain.
Christian lunged forward and grabbed Willow around the waist, lifting her off Raven.
Willow’s body twisted as she instinctively kicked out, landing a blow to Raven’s chin.
Raven rose and bolted after her, but Landyn moved before her, easing the sisters apart.
Both women were breathing deeply, and a line of crimson trailed from the corner of Raven’s mouth. Several strands of hair had come loose from Willow’s braid, giving her face a wild, disheveled look.
Some of the men around the room chuckled.
“Let them finish,” Simon suggested, amused.
Christian glared at him before scowling at Willow.
“I thought the Hawkes never fought,” Lord Sterling, Christian’s father, mused.
“It was entertaining,” Simon added.
Willow glowered at Raven, her lips twitching in fury.
Marcus held his breath, waiting for her to attack Raven. But after a few moments, she turned her back on her sister.
“Remove your boots,” Lord Sterling ordered.
At least he was persistent, Marcus thought.
Willow rolled her eyes and plopped into a chair, yanking off her other boot. She turned it upside down, and when nothing fell out, she tilted her head as if to say, “I told you so.”
Simon walked to her.
Christian loomed beside him, his face stern and menacing, his jaw clenched, his fists tight.
Simon examined Willow’s boots one by one. Before handing them back to her, he checked the inside of each, feeling for any hidden items.
Willow slipped them on.
“Now you,” Lord Sterling ordered Raven.
She wiped her hand across her mouth, smearing the line of blood, and pulled one boot then the other off.
Simon stepped forward, inspected the boots with a critical eye, then shook his head slowly before handing them back. He turned to Sage.
Tingles raced along Marcus’s neck. The parchment. It was in her boot.
Sage balanced on one foot to remove her left boot and turn it upside down. Nothing fell out. She switched feet and took off her right boot. Sage scanned the room, her eyes nonchalantly half-lidded.
Marcus tensed, his fingers gripping the pommel of his sheathed sword, ready to draw it. She would never let them have the parchment without a fight. He relaxed his body, preparing for battle.
She flipped her boot over…
Marcus exhaled.
