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He caught her wrist, slamming it into the nearest tree until the blade fell from her grip.
The motion stunned her for one full second before she screeched, her body thrashing about, still trying to free herself. “What—what are you going to do to me?”
The fear in her voice—fear of him—split his chest in two, making it hard to breathe.
“Nothing. Vic.” His voice was a low growl in her ear. “Nothing. You have to believe me.”
Her head slammed back into his nose. “Bastard.”
Yes, he was that.
As much as he loathed to do it, he dropped his grip from her and she sprang away from him, her feet slipping all over the icy snow. He let her. She needed space. Space from him after what he did to her. What he’dhadto do to her.
She spun back toward him when she was out of arm’s reach, her eyes searching the ground for the dropped dagger.
Half stuck into the ground, it was too close to his boot for her to dive at it.
Instead, she crouched, panting, ready to run at him or away from him, he wasn’t sure.
His hands went up, palms to her, trying to calm. “Vic, you got out of the cell—I went down to help you after the castle was quiet, but you were gone and now we need to get you far away from here. Where are Eva and Torrie?”
Her head shook, her eyes wild like a cornered animal. “No—no, no, no. I cannot trust you. Not after—after—”
“You are right, dear little dove, you cannot. You cannot trust this sniveling Judas for anything. Don’t fall for his lies again. He wanted you dead. Told us so the moment he left you in that cell. Said you could rot in there.” Falsted stepped out of the shadows of the trees, looking from Rafe to Victoria, a long blade held high in his hand.
Victoria let out a squeak at his words, turning to Falsted.
Bloody fucking hell.
“The rat is lying to you even now.” Falsted took another step toward Victoria and she jumped away, her back running into a tree. Her hands flew up, fingers curled, trying to ward off both of them as her eyes flickered warily between him and Falsted.
Shit.She was an equal distance from both of them. No, farther from him.
Rafe was deathly afraid if he took another step toward her, she’d jerk away straight into Falsted’s grip.
“She’s mine. Back off, Falsted,” Rafe growled. “Walk away.” He extended his fingers out to her. “Vic, come here.”
Instead of stepping forward, her hands went backward along her sides, clutching onto the trunk of the tree behind her. The tree couldn’t save her. He could.
“Vic, just one step.” He flicked his finger in the air. “One step. You have to trust me.”
Her gaze still trapped, still bouncing from Falsted to him, her left hand unclenched from the bark and her foot lifted like she was going to take a step toward him.
“No, I don’t think I will walk away.” Falsted jabbed another step toward Victoria. “I think the girl is mine to take. She’s that valuable, you said.”
Just as Victoria’s manic gaze left Rafe, shifting to Falsted, the man lunged forward, grabbing a hold of her cloak and yanking her toward him.
She went, pliable, falling into Falsted. What the hell was she thinking?
Rafe’s left hand lifted, palm up to Falsted. “This is your one and only chance, Falsted. Lachlan and Roe already have their women and this is your only chance to run from them. You think mercy is on their minds? You think they’re going to let you go like I am?”
“You’re a fool.” Falsted started backing up, dragging Victoria with him.
She didn’t fight him. Dammit, she couldn’t actually trust Falsted more than him, could she?
“You imbecile,” Falsted sneered and he lifted the blade, pressing it long across Victoria’s neck. “We had it all—we had them right where we wanted them and now you blink? Not only do you crumble because of a chit of a girl, but now you think I’m going to give her up, the only ticket—the only guarantee I have—to get out of England? Your father played this card well. I intend to do the same. This girl is my way out and I intend to use her, just the same as you do.”
At that, Victoria’s eyes flew wide. He could see the horror deep in her crazed look—the same scene with his own father using her to escape, being replayed twelve years later.
