Chapter 36

Oh, Gods. My breath came in ragged pants as I tried to straighten, edging away from the huge man blocking the doorway. Why? Why would he be here? Shouldn't he be running as far away from here as possible?

"Barrett. Wh-what are you doing here?" I stammered.

"Oh, amistrato, my pet, has it been so long that you've forgotten your training?" the marquis purred, almost seeming friendly.

I knew better.

"I'm not your anything anymore," I said, trying to tame my shaking voice, while my stomach attempted to revolt at the nickname.

"Oh, I beg to differ. I own you. I took you, broke you, and made you mine years ago," he drawled, his words stabbing at hope, bleeding away my hard won faith that I was finally free.

"You hurt me, pet." Strange that he almost sounded like a petulant child. "You should never have betrayed me that night. Then that bastard stormed into my own home and stole you away from me. I think Lord Ashton owes me something for all the trouble he's caused me." Lord Barrett was stalking closer even as I continued to edge away. There had to be another exit, maybe through the kitchens. "He's ruined me, taken my estate, my reputation, my pet..." I winced again at his possessive tone as he continued. "I'd thought I'd be able to attempt one last little coup against that bastard today. But imagine my surprise to find the ship already unloaded, and the few men I'd hired to help me drunk and hung over. They're damn lucky I hadn't paid them yet."

I couldn't help the grin that broke out. Ash had been right to suspect foul play. And he'd outsmarted the marquis again. "Since you're so keen on hanging around, I'm sure Ash will be happy to show you to the magistrate."

Barrett's eyes darkened. "Oh, I have no intention of staying. I just decided to collect a little retribution before leaving."

I didn't like the odd glitter in the man's eyes. Too much pain usually followed looks like that.

"You see, I figure if Lord Ashton is going to take everything from me, I'm going to make his life hell by taking away someone close to him."

"Please, please don't hurt his broth—" I broke off, at his leering grin. It wasn't the count that Barrett was talking about using to hurt Ash.

It was me.

Oh, fucking hell. There was no way I could let Barrett use me to hurt Ash. I abruptly darted towards the kitchen.

"Damn!" I heard my father's voice before footsteps thundered after me.

My father managed to catch hold of my cloak, yanking me back enough to grab my collar. He practically threw me at the marquis, who wrapped his arm around my chest as he snatched up a carving knife from the butcher block.

"There'll be no more of that, boy," he sneered as he pressed the blade to my neck. "You're going to be nice and quiet as we leave—"

"No—" I heaved, struggling under his grip.

He squeezed tighter, pressing the air from my lungs as he lifted my chin with the tip of the knife. "—as I was saying, or my companion waiting for us will put a bullet in your...well... previous lover, since you are mine again."

I stilled as his words sank in. He was going to hurt Ash one way or another.

"I got the boy here, now where's the rest of my money?" I heard from the kitchen doorway.

I stared at the man, in shock. "Father?" He'd planned this?

"After I'm away, I'll send the rest of your money."

"You said—"

I'm not sure where it came from, but I started to laugh at the absurdity of my father attempting to sell me again. Only this time the marquis had no money to pay him.

Both of them stared at me in shock.

"He has no money," I spat out at my father. "I hope whatever pitiful coins he gave you already are enough to save you from the magistrate."

My father paled as Barrett tightened his hold. "Shut up, boy. You won't be around to be talking to any magistrate."

I felt the tip of the knife pricking the skin under my jaw. I tensed, vividly remembering the moment when he'd attempted to cut my throat with a jagged piece of glass before. I'd prayed for respite from life then; I'd had nothing left to live for.

From Barrett's wide, manic eyes, I could tell he had reached that point, the point of his ruin. Before, he'd run with Richard, leaving me broken on his window seat, because he thought he'd had something to fight for.

Whereas he had nothing left to lose now. But I did. And this time, I wasn't quite ready to give it up.

There was a knock from the front room before we all heard the door slamming open. Barrett's free hand immediately slapped over my mouth as he adjusted the knife against my ribs so he could keep control of me.

"Father!" a voice yelled from the front room.

Oh, Gods. Tareth.

"Not a sound," he whispered next to my ear, as my father took a breath before leaving the kitchen. "Or not only will you feel this blade, but so will your brother."

I breathed hard, teetering on the edge of panic, causing the knife to poke into my ribs. I nodded slightly as I watched my father head out to the main room. I could only close my eyes and pray as I listened to Tareth confront our father.

"Tareth! I'm so glad you decided—"

"Where's Kye?"

"What do you mean?"

"Kye. Where. Is. He?" he enunciated. I could only imagine him glaring at our father as he asked the second time.

"How would I know? He doesn't want anything to do with me, remember? I recall you saying the same thing."

"Forget it, I'll ask Lillith," Tareth huffed.

Barrett tensed, securing his hold on me, ready to confront Tareth who sounded as if he were heading toward the kitchen.

"No!" Father yelled, stopping the stomping footsteps I'd heard starting for the kitchen. "The girls aren't here yet. Neither is Ander."

I realized for the first time that the kitchen was bare, empty of any kind of food preparation that would normally be happening in a tavern. The staff I'd seen peeking from the kitchen yesterday were notably absent today.

"Why not? Where are they?"

I heard father snort indelicately. "Why would I need them for the breakfast hours? I had no guests. They aren't due in for another couple hours. Hopefully, I'll still have my regular patrons for lunch."

Barrett's breath in my ear made it hard to concentrate on my brother and father in the other room. "Maybe it'd be worth letting him watch me flay his little brother in front of him."

I whimpered, shaking my head pleadingly. That would destroy Tareth. At this point, I didn't care what Barrett did to me as long as he left Tareth and Ash alone.

"Fine, just tell me where my brother went," Tareth sighed.

"I told you, I don't know," Father insisted.

"He came here on your request, just a bit ago," another voice inserted. Evander. I sucked in a relieved breath through the thick fingers nearly smothering me.

There was a moment of silence before someone slammed their hand on something.

"Damn it, father! Evander read the note to Kye. I know you begged him to come here, offering mother's necklace to him. So where is he?"

I held my breath, wondering what father would say as well as praying that Tareth and Evander didn't believe him.

"He left. He didn't want anything to do with me," came the dejected sounding voice, and I rolled my eyes at my father's attempt to gain Tareth's pity. "I'd hoped to make some amends, but..."

"There are no amends you can make," Tareth said.

"Where is he then," Evander asked, "if he's not here?"

"How would I know? My son's rejected me, it's not like he's going to tell me what he's up to!" Father raged back. "He left! He was angry with me, he ran off!"

"He's got to be nearby." Evander's voice was barely audible, like he was talking just to Tareth. "Maybe he went looking for you."

"That's probably what he did. I just hope he didn't get into any trouble while he was searching for you," Father added, and I involuntarily jerked in Barrett's arm at the blatant attempt to make Tareth feel guilty.

Tareth's voice was quieter when he spoke next, probably ignoring father and speaking only to Evander. "I told him I was visiting the silversmith and seamstress. He knew I was looking for something for Amelia."

"Then let's go," Evander urged. I both prayed they did and didn't go. I was torn between them insisting on searching the inn to find me, yet also wanting them to leave before they got hurt.

"I've kept you from sleeping looking for Kye already," Tareth said. "I'm sorry I dragged you from your room. You go back and sleep. I'll look for Kye."

"Don't worry about me." I could practically see Evander waving off Tareth's suggestion. "I feel like I should have come with him... but he's very persuasive, and he talked me out of it. He swore he'd only be a few minutes and go no farther than the doorway."

"And he did!" Father jumped in. "That's what he did. Came only for a moment or two to the door!"

Liar! I could feel Barrett's chest behind me shaking as if he were laughing. Bastard.

I heard the door of father's inn shut with a bang.

Tareth and Evander were gone. They'd left me, but they were safe from Barrett.

It was several long moments before my father appeared back in the kitchen doorway.

"They're gone, but you better hurry. It won't be long before Tareth has the whole town searching for his brother."

Barrett laughed aloud, loosening his hold a little, the knife no longer poking small holes in my ribs. I sucked in a breath now that his smothering hand was gone. "Maybe I should take care of your brother first," Barrett's oily voice slithered over me.

"No! You bastard! You leave him alone!" I swung my elbow into his ribs, lifting my other arm to shove his knife arm up and away. He grunted as he slammed against the table behind him, eyes wide as I turned, swinging my fist up.

I'd been still as long as it kept Tareth safe, but now? I'd held onto my anger, my fear, for the sake of Tareth. I'd be damned if the man was going to hurt my brother.

My swinging fist only glanced off his chin as he recovered from my explosive outburst. I barely registered the flare of his nostrils, the narrow, glittering eyes, before the back of his hand hit the side of my head full force.

Fuck! My jaw exploded in pain as I dropped heavily to the floor. My eyes blurred with white spots as my ears rang. I struggled to my knees as I heard my father yelling at Barrett.

"No! You won't touch him!"

I turned my head, wondering, hoping for a moment that my father was defending me against the brute of a man he'd sold me to.

"Tareth is my son, and you will leave him alone."

My stomach clenched. Of course. He was defending Tareth. A moment of jealousy washed over me at my father's insistent attachment to my brother. It passed as soon as I thought of Tareth's words to me. My father may want Tareth's devotion, may hope earn it back somehow, but he never would. Because I already had it.

"Then you better keep your son out of my way," Barrett warned. When he reached down and fisted a handful of my hair, I cried out as he used it to yank me to my feet. "As for you, you little whore, you will remember your place, or not only will Lord Ashton have a bullet in him, I will send both of you back to the Count in pieces."

Barrett shoved me against the prep table in the middle of the kitchen, holding me in place with his body as he turned to my father.

"Get me some rope," Barrett ordered. "I think it might be prudent to immobilize these suddenly feisty hands."

"Here, this should work."

I wrinkled my nose at the thin rope my father was handing Barrett. It had apparently been pulled out of the garbage, and had probably been used to wrap some cuts of meat for delivery. Barrett wasn't much happier at having to handle the dirty rope. He let go of my hair, turning me to face him so he could tie my hands.

I didn't think, I just reacted, abruptly kicking at his groin and shoving away from him. He didn't own me anymore, and I wasn't just going to go along complacently with him.

"Fuck!" He doubled over, and I drove my elbow against the side of his head, causing him to stumble and crash into the heavy butcher table against the wall.

I dove for the door but felt hands grabbing at me. My father was yelling curses at me as he tried to restrain me. I had my hand on the door even as he was attempting to drag me backwards. My hand slipped from the door. I desperately grabbed at anything I could. My hand landed on one of the pans hanging on the wall. I ripped it down and turned swinging.

The iron skillet connected with my father's head with a sickening thud. He dropped to the floor, his skull bouncing on the wooden floor. The moment of remorse at the sight of my father sprawled on the floor passed almost instantly. I couldn't find it in myself to worry about him anymore. He'd never been concerned about me.

I turned, hoping to reach the door when I heard Barrett shoving himself off the floor, lurching towards me.

"You little bastard!" he yelled through his pain.

I tried to swing the heavy skillet to defend myself again, but Barrett charged forward with the knife. Pain sliced through my forearm, loosening my grip on the one weapon I had. We both stumbled, and I saw Barrett's lips turn up in a smug grin as he righted himself.

I panted. I'd been so close. The door was right there. Yet I couldn't get my fingers to grip the handle tight enough to hold the damn pan I had resting on its edge near my feet.

"I think I'm going to enjoy breaking you all over again." Barrett lifted the knife, admiring the smear of blood on it.

I closed my eyes. No. There was no way I could do it again. I wouldn't.

My other hand joined the first, sliding around the handle together.

"Maybe this time I'll put my name on you, so everyone will know you are my pet," Barrett droned.

My grip tightened. And I swung up. I didn't bother to even try to keep my grip on the skillet. I just hefted it at the man and let it go as I turned and floundered for the door.

I heard Barrett roar in pain and fury as the pan collided with the arm he'd managed to raise to fend off the flying object. I had hoped it would hit his head, but I hadn't gotten that lucky. It did stun him enough for me to yank open the door and heave myself through.

I stumbled as I tried to right myself after barreling through the door into the back alley. I was just getting my feet to cooperate enough to run when I hit a hard wall.

No. Not a wall. A man.

I opened my mouth to plead for help when Barrett yelled. "Erick!"

The instant the man's eyes lifted to the doorway, I knew. Barrett's man.

Oh fucking hell. I instantly shoved away, attempting to dart around him before he understood what was happening, but he was too quick. His arms wrapped around me within seconds, one arm around my chest, pinning my arms to my side, the other slapping over my mouth before I could yell. No amount of squirming, kicking, or biting was going to loosen his hold.

A moment later, Barrett charged through the door, a string of curses on his lips, his eyes blazing as he finally noticed his man holding me securely. His nostrils flared as he slowly stepped toward us. I could barely enjoy the sight of him limping as he stalked forward.

I struggled futilely, knowing the look in Barrett's eyes meant serious pain, probably soon. Definitely for me. He stared at me for several moments before lifting those dark eyes to the man behind me.

"Thank you, Erick."

"My pleasure, sir," the man's tone hinted at distaste for any kind of authority. "Now that you have what you came for, can we make haste? I'd like to escape to Tenjey as soon as possible."

Escape?

Barrett chuckled as he rubbed at his forearm. I hoped it bruised like hell; it was probably too much to hope the pan might have cracked it. "Be patient, my friend. We will get you far from the reaches of Labreydan law very soon."

The law? My heart sunk even further as I realized Erick was a criminal who had escaped the hold of the law, with or without Barrett's help I didn't know. Either way, Barrett was apparently using the man by offering him freedom and a new start overseas in Tenjey.

There would be no appealing to the man's sense of justice, his sense of compassion. There wasn't any. He had nothing more to lose by helping Barrett.

Barrett stalked forward with the rope, briefly tucking the knife in his belt as he grabbed my hands.

He pulled my wrists together in front of me tying them together. He chuckled at the blood dripping down my forearm, slicking my hand. He took a moment to turn my forearm so he could examine his handiwork. I screamed against Erick's hand when he pressed his thumb into the gash.

"Think of this pain when you consider opening your mouth again. This is what Tareth will feel on every limb of his body, if you so much as whimper to draw attention to us," Barrett threatened, and my eyes widened in horror. "And if your precious brother isn't enough of an incentive to behave, I have no problem pulling aside the next woman or child I find and slicing them open as well. Are we clear?"

I slumped back against my captor, defeat seeping through my limbs as the adrenaline of hope disappeared. I think I'd started crying, even though I made no sound; my face certainly felt damp.

When Barrett had Erick turn me around so he could wrap the ends of the rope binding my hands together around my waist, tying them off at my back, a cold dread seeped over me.

I squirmed, testing my range, dismayed that I had very little—my arms and hands were pretty much useless now. In lashing out now, I'd lost any chance of surprising him later. He carefully arranged my cloak around my shoulders so it covered my tied, bloody hands. He dusted off a few smudges before pulling up the hood to obscure my face.

"Can I release you now, boy?" Erick asked.

I nodded sullenly, grateful when he finally removed his hand from my mouth. The urge to yell was on the tip of my tongue, but Barrett's threat loomed heavy and real. While I knew he might be bluffing, he would threaten an innocent to keep my compliance, and he knew me well enough that I wouldn't let him hurt anyone else because of me.

He quickly adjusted his own cloak, a drab brown of coarse fabric much like the one I was wearing. It was nothing like what I was used to seeing him in. It made me wonder if I'd seen him on the streets and not noticed him. Even his boots were scuffed and worn, as opposed to his normal polished look. He flipped up his own wide hood, although it wasn't pulled as far over his face.

Barrett pulled the knife from his belt, turning me forcefully around. I saw Erick for the first time—he was a bulky man leaning against the wall now, chewing on a stick. Erick lazily looked over at us as Barrett finished adjusting his cloak, giving off an air of cocky confidence. However, I noticed his eyes flickering back and forth around the narrow alley. He was definitely concerned, and the set of his rigid shoulders indicated he wanted out of here as soon as possible. When he straightened, I noticed a double barreled pistol tucked in a strap against his leg. Apparently, Barrett had replaced Gerard with this man.

Erick tipped his head at Barrett, but didn't otherwise acknowledge the man's status. He didn't look like he cared much if Barrett was a marquis, the king, or a commoner—as long as he was getting paid his freedom, he'd follow orders. And based on the heavy pouch hanging on his belt just hidden by his coat, Barrett had already paid some coin to ensure his fealty.

"I believe we are ready, Erick."

The scruffy head gave Barrett a brief nod, along with a breath of relief to finally be moving. "We'll head up the alley here about five or six blocks, where we can then turn east towards the forest." He pointed straight, then to the left where I assume we would turn. "I have horses waiting for us there," the man said.

"Good." Barrett cast his gaze up and down the alley. It was a cobblestone and mud path that wound between the backs of the stores on two streets. The ones to the right, where father's inn and the shoemaker were, seemed to be the higher end stores. The ones to our left, which faced another street I hadn't seen yet; however, they appeared to be a little bit shabbier. Either way, we were hidden from most people's view in this narrow alley that just big enough for a cart to fit through. It was deeply shadowed by the surrounding buildings, but looking up the street, I could see swaths of light cutting across the alley, meaning there were gaps between some of the buildings, just like the one next to father's inn.

"You gonna be able to keep him quiet?" Erick jerked his chin at me.

"My pet has been told of the consequences of misbehavior, as you heard." He lifted the knife to just under my jaw, forcing me to look up to keep him from pricking my skin. "However, there is the possibility of encountering others who would wish to steal my property from me. Viscount Sterling for one. His steward Liam. The whore's brother."

Erick frowned, his fingers gripping the gun.

"If any of them pose an issue, you have my permission to shoot them for threatening my person and property."

"Aye, sir," Erick smirked, offering a leering wink as he began to lead the way down the alley. I suspected it wouldn't be the first time he'd killed someone, either.

My shirt was beginning to stick to my stomach as my pounding heart continued to pump blood from the wound. Now that I wasn't fighting to escape, fighting for my freedom, I was beginning to feel the stinging pain of the wound I'd barely noticed at the time. I had assumed it was just a scratch, a light cut down the inside of my forearm. I was surprised that it still seemed to be bleeding. I stumbled as Barrett made me walk next to him. Erick was far enough ahead, he wouldn't hear the marquis rambling in my ear.

"I wonder if you killed your father back there," Barrett mused in a whisper, drawing me up short. "It would save me from having to lie to him about when he'd get the rest of his money."

Killed? Could I have hit him that hard? Oh, hell... my breathing increased and my stomach roiled at the idea that I might have murdered my own father. I lurched to the side, emptying the contents of my stomach on the stones.

Erick whipped around at the noise, and both men wrinkled their noses in disgust, yet it was Erick who hastily tipped a flask against my lips to help dispel the rancid taste in my mouth. When the burn of the whiskey hit the back of my throat, I nearly gagged. Instead, I quickly swished the liquid fire around and spit it out. The alcohol burned but at least it allowed me to rinse my mouth. I lifted my shoulder to wipe my mouth against it as Barrett dragged me forward.

"No more dallying. You've cost me enough time. Get us to the horses, Erick. The boat I've contracted won't wait long."

Erick grinned as he cleaned off his flask with his sleeve before taking his own fortifying drink. "My pleasure, sir."