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It took an excruciating second and Desmond dropped his hands from Rafe’s throat. Rafe slumped against the wall, coughing, breath wheezing through his throat.
That sound alone cut her to her marrow and she couldn’t handle it another second.
Her father had already yanked his right arm back, coiling for another blow and she ducked under the entrance, rushing forward with a scream at her lips.
“Stop!Stop! Stop!”She flung herself in between her father and Rafe, her hands crossing one over the other to block his swinging arm.
Desmond’s fist slammed into her hands, unable to stop mid-swing.
The force rammed her backward into Rafe, but she held the block. Her father’s fist not getting any farther than the top of her head.
“Vicky—” Her father’s eyes went wide, horrified.
She shoved back on his fist, sending his arm flying away from her and Rafe, her voice screaming. “For heaven’s sake stop whatever this madness is you think to accomplish here.”
Reiner stepped toward her and she shot him a piercing glare. “Don’t you take one step toward him or me.” Her glare shot to her father. “Either of you.”
Reiner tossed the whip in his hands to the floor and lifted both of his hands to her. “Vicky, you don’t understand what he is, he—”
“I understand exactly what he is. What he’s done and what he is due,” she growled. “And this—this is not it. Not by far.” Her glare whipped to her father. “Leave us.”
“No.”
Her eyes narrowed to slits at him, the force of a storm billowing up her chest. “Leave us.”
Desmond’s mouth opened to argue.
“Des,” Reiner said softly, for once, the voice of reason.
Desmond shut his mouth, taking a step back. “We will be outside the door.”
“No, you’ll be at the top of the stairs.” Her words hissed. “This is private, between me and Rafe.”
His glare thundered down on her. It did nothing but harden her resolve. She was his daughter, after all, and she could glare back with just as much stubbornness and rancor.
Desmond’s mouth twisted and he stepped away, turning and stalking to the short opening of the room, his boots stomping along the stone floor.
Reiner followed him to the opening, pausing before ducking to exit. His stare went to Rafe for a long moment, then dropped to Victoria. He gave her a relenting nod. “We will be at the top of the stairs, no farther.” He disappeared out the door.
She waited, not turning around to Rafe until their footfalls receded into the bowels of the castle’s undercroft.
She needed those moments. Needed them to still her breath, still her mind.
Rafe was alive.
Here and wrecked, butalive.
For how relieved she was at that fact, there was still a pulsating, thundering monstrosity that couldn’t be ignored, no matter how happy she was to see him.
The knife he’d plunged into her. What he’d planned to do to her family.
With a breath deep into her lungs to steel her spine, she spun to him, her gaze cool as she assessed him.
He had multiple gashes across his torso, some shallow, some deeper. Some by blades, some by lashes of a whip. His left arm hung from his shoulder socket in an unnatural way. His hands were bloody, several fingernails missing. Both of his eyes were cut and swollen near to shut, where she could barely see his eyes. His nose was severely misaligned. His lips split open in five locations.
And the blood. Blood everywhere, smeared and splattered onto every surface.
Her father and Reiner hadn’t done this alone. No. She imagined every one of her uncles and the Scotsmen upstairs had gotten their blows in.
