Page 32 of The Archer’s Wish

“What?” Cormac choked, eyes wide like saucers.

Liam’s face was inches from his, eyes blazing, jaw clenched hard enough to crack bone. “Ye struck Beitris Lewis.”

Cormac smirked. “That wee lass needed a lesson. Thinks too highly o’ herself.

Liam’s fist split that smirk in half.

Cormac’s head snapped sideways, blood spraying from his lip. He staggered, but Liam yanked him upright by his collar again, not letting him fall.

“Liam,” Keir said evenly, “dinnae kill him in the first breath.”

The last words sounded faintly amused.

He knew exactly what he was allowing.

Cormac spat blood. “Ye think I’m scared of ye? Ye limp like an old man.”

Liam drove his forearm into the brute’s throat, pinning him to the wall. Cormac gagged.

“I could limp or crawl on my belly and still be the better man,” Liam hissed. “Ye lay a hand on a woman. Ye think that makes ye strong?”

He struck him again. Harder. A blow to the ribs that made Cormac grunt and double over.

Keir stepped closer, arms still calmly crossed, watching like a judge at sentencing. “Ye touched my sister?” His tone was soft, deadly. “It will nae happen again.”

Cormac wheezed, scrambling to push Liam away, but Liam seized a fistful of his hair, yanked his head back, and snarled in his face.

“She cried,” Liam said, voice shaking, not with fear, but with fury so thick it scraped his throat raw. “Because of ye. Because ye hurt her.” His jaw clenched. “Ye struck her hard enough to swell her face.”

Cormac grunted. “She deserved…”

Liam didn’t let him finish.

His fist silenced the man with a crack that echoed.

Keir watched quietly. Approvingly.

“Good,” Keir murmured. “Again.”

Liam hit him.

Once.

Twice.

A third time, driving Cormac to his knees.

Cormac was wheezing now, blood dripping from his nose, and his face mottled purple. But still, Liam grabbed the man by the hair and forced him to look up.

“There is nae a corner of this land,” Liam spat, “where ye’ll be able to look at a woman without remembering this day.”

Cormac trembled.

Good.

Liam leaned closer, voice low and lethal, the kind that carved itself into a man’s bones. “If ye ever look Beitris’s way again, I will end ye. Slowly.”

Keir finally moved forward, placing a hand on Liam’s shoulder, not to stop him, but steady him.