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Rafe stared at Victoria’s face, his heart shattering as he watched her slip back in time. Slip back into that terror.
But Rafe wouldn’t lie like Sloane did. Wouldn’t claim Victoria was worthless.
She was everything, and she would never hear lies on that score from his lips.
Rafe set his face to merciless cold, staring down Falsted even as the man retreated and he stalked forward, death and vengeance a thick shadow looming behind him. “Here’s the thing, Falsted. If I have her, they’ll come after me and not you.” Two more steps forward.
Falsted angled the blade harder against Victoria’s neck. “Stop. Stop right there.”
“Be smart about this—you can still get away if you give her to me.” His glare didn’t leave Falsted. “I’ll sacrifice myself, for they’ll come after me. You hurt her, you’re dead in the next instant.”
Falsted’s mouth twisted, staring at Rafe for a long moment, his fingers twitching along the handle of his blade.
Considering.
Time to press him. One more step forward. “I will crush you in an instant, and you know it. You let her go and I’ll let you walk, leave you to take your chances on getting out of here before Lachlan and Roe are on you.”
With a heave, Falsted grunted and shoved Victoria away from him, turning to run.
Rafe stepped forward to catch her just before she crashed into the ground and a dagger went whizzing by his head.
A blade? From where?
Yanking Victoria under his body to protect her, he looked up, his head frantically swiveling. The dagger he’d knocked out of Victoria’s hand was now embedded into Falsted’s back.
Falsted spun with a raging scream, his blade high and ready to strike as he charged toward them. In one fluid motion, Rafe dropped Victoria to the ground, pulled his blade from his boot and jumped over her, catching Falsted’s arm in mid-swing as he stabbed down at Victoria.
His dagger sank into Falsted’s gut easily, and Rafe twisted it, yanking it upward, making sure it was both torture and certain death.
Falsted gasped a breath, weakening against Rafe’s hold on him, blood and spittle flying out of his mouth as he staggered back and forth, then started to fall.
Rafe yanked his blade free, letting Falsted crumple to the ground like the dung heap he was.
Falsted down, he finally had a moment to look over his shoulder. He hadn’t thrown the blade into Falsted’s back. Neither had Victoria.
Moonlight cut down through the trees, and two women stood, both breathing heavy puffs into the chilly air. Torrie held Eva up from the left side with both hands and Eva’s arm remained half raised in the air. She’d been the one to throw the dagger at her stepfather.
Both of them stared at him, their eyes vicious.
Ready to fight him to the death for Victoria.
“You hurt our girl.” Torrie said the words, the chill in her voice trouncing any cold malice he’d ever sent into the world. “And you were working with that bastard.”
He nodded.
He couldn’t defend himself.
Victoria’s hand flew up. “Now is not the time, Torrie. Rafe got me in to you, so we could get you out. He’s helping us. And we need to get out of here before another guard shows. You two were supposed to be far away from here already.”
Eva’s lips pursed as she looked down at her niece. “You didn’t truly think we would leave you, did you?”
The softest chuckle rose up from Victoria. Almost crazed. Mostly thankful. She pushed herself up onto her feet, the boots of her toes slipping in the snow as she half-turned, craning her neck to look up at him. “Where are Lach and Roe?”
Rafe shook his head. “Nowhere near here.”
Straightening, her hands moved, flattening her askew cloak and skirts, and she paused, her eyes narrowing on him. “You lied?”
“Aye.”
