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each step a fine line between angering him and reluctance for my fate. He follows me down the winding, treacherous stairs, and out into the ruined courtyard where Posey waits.

She is not the only horse. Just under cover of the trees wait the rest of his party, a dozen or so mounted rough, villainous men.

“Jerry,” he calls to a scruffy young man who stands beside two horses. “Bring her horse, and see that the lass gives us no trouble.”

Jerry is a slender man with a pockmarked face and lank hair, and he leers at me the whole time he is busy with the rope.

I pray for a miracle, for Caden and Brook to storm into the clearing and cut through these ruffians like they did last time.

They do not.

And there are no more delays to be had.

As my mind sinks into numb horror, we ride from my family estate.

Hawthorn

The morning has been a debacle of monstrous proportions. We crossed paths with a small band of outlaws and have been sent on a merry chase. It is only as the skies start to darken that I recognize we are being played.

As we ride back to the castle, a deep in the gut kind of premonition is building. Danger, more than the scum we have chased beats at me.

Something is wrong.

The Priya kind of wrong.

At the crest of the rise, the castle comes into view. Castle guards are thundering toward us, and as we meet, the nearest guard utters the words that I know instantly will haunt me. “Priya has been taken!”

The what and how is lost as my mind first rejects and then is forced to accept the words. “When?” I demand.

“A few hours ago,” the guard says. “Caden and Brook have left in pursuit. We have not seen them since. Her brothers await you at the castle with whatever news is to be had. The few patrols available have been sent to search.”

Taken. A pervasive form of dread takes me into its unwelcome hold. Not fled, nor run, nor mischief, but taken.

I want to turn my horse and ride recklessly toward the unknown place where my sweet, willful Omega has gone. Only I don’t know where that place is. That Caden and Brook have left gives me some measure of hope. I still want to raise my face to the sky and roar like a beast.

Taken.

We ride to the castle. News of my return precedes us, and I find all four brothers waiting for me in the courtyard, faces stone cold.

I dismount, although the burning need to leave is beating upon me hard.

“What has happened?”

“Brook found her missing from the room,” Bram says. “A poker was left lying on the floor—” His lips tighten. “There was blood on it and on the floor. Her horse is gone. Whether she was frightened into flight or taken, we don’t know. Given the blood, I think the latter.”

My knuckles ache from how tightly they make a fist.

“We apprehended a man dressed as a servant. He works for the Blighten. From the looks of him when we found him, I’d say someone went at him with a poker.” His lips now make a grim line. “He was sent to collect her. He claims that she fled and that he doesn’t know where she is.”

“And you believe him?” I demand.

“She is not inside the castle,” Silas says. “That much we know.”

“Whether she left of her own accord or was taken makes little difference to the outcome,” Bram continues. “She is outside, not inside. We have combed the immediate area surrounding the castle and can find nothing. I fear now she is definitely taken. And if she is taken, they will be seeking the quickest route to Blighten lands.”

“Darkmouth,” I say.

“Darkmouth,” Bram agrees.

“I need to go,” I say. This is not a question but a statement.

None of them stop me, although they do offer a dozen guards to accompany me.

I refuse. Bram has little enough protection here, and there is still Belle to consider given the Blighten have been bold enough to infiltrate the castle. Besides, I will move swifter alone, and my need to find my mate will tolerate nothing less. After some discussion, we decide to send birds to Darkmouth, asking for support on arrival for myself, Caden, and Brook should it be needed. We don’t disclose our reasons. That Blighten infiltrated the Wittner castle means they have a network in place. Forewarning one person at Darkmouth might send them deeper into their underground network.

There are no good options here, and we have no time to decide either way.

I take two horses, and supplies enough to get me to Darkmouth. By the time this is done, late afternoon is bearing down upon me, and they have half a day’s lead. I pray for a miracle, for Brook and Caden to return with our little mate, and for this test to be over.

They do not return, and the Goddess has other plans.

“Bring her back, Hawthorn,” Bram says as I mount my horse.

“I will,” I say, and turning my horse, ride from the castle.

CHAPTER NINE

Priya

DARKNESS FALLS OVER the landscape. We stop only at brief intervals to walk the horses. The riding is hard. I’m close to my limit, but so is Posey. I feel her faltering. Swift and sure she may be, but I’ve never ridden her so hard or long, and I’m sick with worry. I pray for a rest, for a pause to this mad flight that I might give my cherished steed a break from the punishing pace.

I call for them to stop, then I beg them.

They do not care. I know what drives my captors. They have taken me from my home. Pursuit will come, and they need to make ground. They do not care for Posey, nor for me beyond my value as an Omega.

Heat radiates from Posey’s body, breathing labored, and lather building on her beautiful

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