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I knew it was Randal, and he looked like a savage, his eyes holding more fury than I’d ever seen in another human being in my life.
He looked up at me without saying a single word, but from his glance, I drew enough strength to hang on. Just a little longer. My savior had arrived.
“At last,” said one of the remaining men, hardly even glancing at his dead companion. “Wondered when you were going to show up, you ugly motherfucker. We have orders to get rid of your ungodly face, and honestly nothing will make me happier.”
Randal gave no response, but widened his stance. The two men drew their long gleaming swords, and Randal adjusted his grip on his dagger, holding it high and parallel with his face. There was a long, tense pause. And then with his free hand, Randal signaled them with a flick of his fingers.
“Bring it on, you fuckers.”
Chapter 12
Randal
The three remaining assassins put up a fucking decent fight, but I had the advantage.
Growing up as I did had taught me to ignore pain, to fight with every ounce of strength in my body and to be fucking stubborn when it came to my odds of winning. I’d fought with the duke’s guards, men twice my own age who’d been expertly trained and well battle-seasoned, long before these assassins had taken their first knife wound. I knew how to fight dirty and fight hard, and they didn’t stand a goddamned chance.
I was one step ahead of their every move.
Slicing one across the jugular, I grinned as the second stepped forward and I killed him with a twisting stab to the heart.
When the last turned to face me, the way his expression dropped said everything. Sure, with his buddies against an unarmed and untrained opponent he was probably tough as old leather. But face to face against me, he was shitting his goddamned pants.
“Please!” he cried, dropping his knife to the floor with a clatter. “I was just following orders!”
I shrugged. “Any last words?”
“Please, let me go. I can help you. I know things you need to hear. Your friend—”
My blade turned his voice into a bubbling sound as his eyes went wide, blood trickling from his mouth. Giles Aaron was no friend of mine.
As he slumped to the ground, I rushed to get myself below Iris and opened my arms.
“I’ve got you,” I said to her. It was a hell of a drop, but it didn’t fucking matter. I’d have caught her if she had to fall three feet or a thousand. I would always be there to catch her. No matter fucking what.
“I won’t let you get hurt. Never again. I promise.”
She was fucking petrified, covered in shit, half-clothed and shaking. The wound on her head looked bad, but she was still conscious. A damned good sign.
“I can’t,” she said, her voice trembling with the shaking of her muscles. “I can’t let go.”
I looked her in the eye and took a deep breath. She followed my lead and the trembling slowed a bit. “You can. You have to. Just let go, I’m here.”
She was starting to lose her grip, but she was still locked in a loop of terror. “They came, I don’t know where they came from. I don’t know who they are—were, but they came and they…and then Nellie, and…” She trailed off, looking down at the older man on the floor, and also at the cow, who stood shifting uncomfortably in a pool of blood and milk, and scattered broken glass.
I had understood the situation at first glance. She didn’t need to explain it. The assassins had killed her father. Then they scared Iris up the post. Somewhere along the line, bottles broke, explaining the shards of glass on her father’s workbench, and more around the cow. I was up to fucking speed. And yet, I knew that her telling me was as much about her making sense of it as anything.
“I know,” I told her, keeping my voice firm and steady. “It’s okay. I just need you to fall into my arms. And then we can get out of here.”
Her chin trembled now, and tears made her eyes glisten. “It isn’t okay, Randal. It…”
Iris’s eyes fluttered shut as she lost consciousness and let go of the beam. I was ready. She fell hard but I had her, and I broke her fall easily and softly. Even given the shitty circumstances, it felt so good to have her back in my arms again.
The head wound wasn’t as bad as I had feared, but she’d sure-as-shit had her bell rung. She’d be feeling that one for a while. The rest of her was unharmed, but she’d need some caring for. As well as some cleaning up. But then, I’d planned on that no matter what. Especially after I claimed her as mine.
