29. Chapter 29

Atorrent of rain whipped into his face as Callum glared at the castle.

He'd had two other stops before this, now here, the last destination in the line.

All of that had taken far too long—travel slow in the downpour.

His first stop had been to arrange for a clergyman to come to Springfell. His second to check in with his men in Haddington that he had scouring the area in search of Nemity's abductors—a wasted stop, for they were nowhere to be found and he'd ended up having to spend the night at a coaching inn after leaving them explicit instructions to make way to Springfell to protect Nemity until he returned.

Now he faced Ravenstone Castle.

Soaked to the bone and cold, his fury had been building with every step his horse took to the castle. It loomed ahead, a grey monolith jutting up high into the wicked grey skies.

Knowing he was coming here to face Thomas, Callum had been trying to rein in the pummeling that his fists still wanted to dole out to the ass.

Putting not only Nemity, but also Georgette and Jacob in danger like that—it was unforgivable. The man hadn't yet suffered nearly enough under Callum's fists for what he did.

Fifteen minutes later, Callum had dismounted and was leading his horse into the main stable at Ravenstone when he glanced down the center aisle, only to see Thomas's head pop up in a horse's stall, then dip back down.

All the fury Callum had been trying to control exploded in his veins and he tied his horse to the nearest post, his steps thundering deep into the barn.

He was on Thomas in seconds, gripping the back of his shirt and yanking him upright, his fist landing on his jaw before Thomas knew what was happening.

The hoof pick in Thomas's hand went flying as he thudded into a wall, the horse he was tending to snorting and stomping in place.

Thomas caught himself, blood cutting from his lip as he found his footing, and he turned to Callum heaving at the entrance of the stall, ready to attack him again.

Thomas pushed off from the wall, his thumb wiping at the blood alongside his mouth as he advanced on Callum. "What in the fucking hell do you think you're doing?"

"Resisting beating you into a bloody pulp for what you did to Nemity." Callum crossed his arms over his chest, staring Thomas down. He wanted to destroy the man, but at the moment, he needed him alive and able to sign papers.

Thomas stilled, his face ashen. "Nemity—is she all right? The children? My coachman hasn't returned yet—I had him looking for them."

"They are fine, no thanks to you, you fucking ass."

To hell with it.

Callum pulled free his arms and yanked back his right elbow, advancing on Thomas, ready to sink another blow on the bastard's face.

Thomas held his hand up. "You might want to rethink that—I have one of the kidnappers—your men from the Guardians, they brought him here."

Callum stopped, his fist dropping from the air. "What?"

"One of the kidnappers. One of the men that abducted Nemity weeks ago. He's in a cell in the undercrofts."

Callum slammed the side of his fist into the wooden slat wall next to him, his voice a roar. "Bloody hell, why weren't those the first words out of your mouth?"

"You were punching me," Thomas thundered back.

The horse in the stall jumped again, snorting with the noise.

Thomas pointed out of the stall and Callum stepped out of it, Thomas following. He latched the gate and then turned to Callum, his chest heaving.

Callum didn't give him even a second to catch his breath. This was why his men were gone when he'd stopped at their base in Haddington to talk with them. He'd just figured they were out combing the surrounding villages and towns, as they had been since arriving in the area. "You get anything out of the man?"

Thomas shook his head. "Not yet. Your men just delivered him early today, but I wasn't in the right frame of mind after dealing with Charley all morning."

"Charley?" Callum's brows shot up. "Charley came up from London?"

"He did." Thomas lifted his arm, wiping the sleeve of his rolled-up lawn shirt against his mouth to clear the blood. The red streak on the white cloth was immediate and long. He glanced down at it, shaking his head, then sent a glare at Callum. "And my brother was on a tear—railing at me for letting you anywhere near Nemity."

Callum exhaled a seething sigh.

Thomas took a step toward him, his voice going deadly. "And this is where I punch you the fuck out for not staying in your position."

Callum's teeth gritted. "And just what is my position?"

"It certainly isn't to ruin someone under your protection."

Callum shook his head. "You don't know that. You don't know anything about what has happened."

Thomas took a step toward him, getting into his face. "You think I'm blind? I spent two days in a carriage with Nemity moping about you."

"Moping?"

"Yes. Fucking moping."

Thank the angels. That was the best thing he could possibly hear.

He gave Thomas a curt nod. "That's why I'm here. I'm going to marry Nemity."

"You're what?" Thomas's head snapped back. "No—I won't allow it."

Callum eyed him coolly. "I think we both know Nemity will do the exact opposite of anything you say just to spite you. Any sway you had with her was destroyed the moment you tossed her and the children out of your carriage."

Thomas's eyes closed and he spun away from Callum, collapsing back against a wall between horse stalls. His fingers ran over his face, the butts of his palms digging into his eyes. "I—I'm sorry." His hands dropped away from his face and he looked to Callum. "Does she know how sorry I am?"

Callum could see the torment in his eyes—true remorse. So much so that all the fury in him dissipated. What he was looking at wasn't an evil ass. It was a broken man.

Broken by what, he didn't know. But he sure as hell recognized someone walking around blindly in the shell of a body.

Callum's voice tempered. "What in the hell were you thinking, Thomas?"

"I wasn't—I don't even remember doing it. Don't know how to describe it."

"Try."

He shook his head, and then clunked it back onto the wooden slat behind him, his vacant stare going on the open rafters above. "I was watching the children cry—they'd been crying off and on for two days, and Nemity was just sitting there, her eyes glazed over, not even hearing them, and something snapped in my brain and I…I…I blacked out. Coming out of it, it was like a dream, like I had vague snippets of Jacob wailing. Nemity spitting out words at me. Of anger. Uncontrollable anger to the point I didn't know my own mind. And then they were no longer in the carriage with me."

His look dropped to Callum. "You don't know how I want to take those minutes back. How I want to go through that again, only under control. Which I wasn't."

Callum heaved a sigh. He'd never been one to hold a drowning man's head under water. He met Thomas's look. "I don't know if she's going to want to hear it from you, but you need to tell her that."

Thomas's head dropped forward, his stare on the ground. "I will. I will." His look snapped up to Callum. "But don't think I'm giving you my blessing to marry her."

The snarl came back to Callum's voice. "Again, I don't give a damn what you bless or don't. I'm marrying her. But I'm not doing it before I talk to you about her fortune."

At that, Thomas shoved himself from the wall, his fists pulling back. "I'm going to break every fucking tooth in your mouth."

He swung. Hard. Callum only barely caught his fist in the air before shouting into Thomas's face. "I don't want her bloody fortune."

Thomas stilled, his eyes wide. "What?"

"I don't want it. I want you to put it in a trust that she can access any time she wants on her own terms."

Thomas yanked his fist from Callum's hold, taking a step back, his brow furrowed. "What are you talking about?"

"Her fortune. You can still oversee it, but I want her to have control over it, so it's not a dangling carrot that you hold over her anytime you want to get her to do something."

"I don't do that."

"Really? For you sure as hell threaten it a lot."

"I do?" Thomas frowned.

"Yes." Callum sighed. "It'll be easier if you arrange it from the start before we're married. But if you don't do so, then mark my words, as her husband, I will come after every penny of it, take it from you, and put it in a trust for her myself. But I really want it done beforehand, so she doesn't wonder on it."

"Well, hell." Thomas rubbed his jaw, staring at him. "You really mean it, don't you?"

"I do."

Thomas nodded. "Aye. I can arrange it."

"Good." Callum nodded. "Now can we go deal with this bastard that thought to put his hands on Nemity? My fists still need to hit something."

Thomas flicked his hand forward and they trudged side by side up to the castle and down into the bowels of the stones.

"They bloodied the man fairly well when they caught him." Thomas opened the ancient wooden door to the small storage room, and they both ducked under the low curved stones to step into the room.

The bastard lay in the middle of the cell, chained to the floor by a shackle around his ankle, his clothes torn and bloodied.

Callum peeled off his overcoat and coat, rolling up the sleeves of his lawn shirt as Thomas walked to the man and kicked him in the ribcage.

The man grunted, curling into himself as he rolled onto his back, staring up at Thomas with burning malice in his eyes. "I already told them other grunts I dinnae ken where they're gonna take her."

Callum rushed over to the heap on the floor, glaring down at him. "What? What did you just say?"

"I said I swear I dinnae ken where they'll take her."

He leaned down, wrapping his hand under the man's jaw and crushing it inward. "Who is taking her?"

"Oh, fuck." The man's eyes flickered back and forth from Callum to Thomas, his body starting to flop, searching for something to push off from to get away from Callum.

Callum stuck his thumb under his jawbone, digging it in for maximum pain, his voice a roar. "Who is taking her?"

His legs scrambled, trying to push off, and Thomas sent a kick to his right kneecap. The man wailed. He looked up at Callum. "Yer too late."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Callum growled.

"Yer too late. They probably already have her."

Rage surged through his veins and Callum released his grip on the man's jaw and punched him.

Hard.

Too hard and the man was out cold.

Callum's head fell back to the curved stone ceiling, his eyes closing.

"Well, fuck," Thomas said, his voice dry.

Callum dropped to his butt, sitting on the cold stone floor, resting his arms on his upturned knees as he looked at Thomas. "Get a cold bucket of water. Probably two or three."

Hours.

It took hours and they had nothing. No information on where Nemity could possibly be.

All damn night they kept having to throw cold water on the brute because the ass kept passing out on them.

And now it was morning, and Callum was desperate.

The man hadn't told them much of anything—not even who'd hired him. The bastard didn't even know. His cousin had pulled him into the job.

Leaning against the stone wall, Callum tried to still the shake in his arms as he watched Thomas creep into the cell with the fifth bucket of cold water and dump it on the man's face.

The brute sputtered, choking on the water in his throat, and turned to his side, coughing. The exact thing that would cause the most pain, for the number of ribs Callum had broken on him.

Enough of this weak, whiny muck.

Callum shoved himself off the wall and strolled over to the brute, pulling free the dagger he always carried in his boot.

He held the blade in front of the brute's nose so that the man couldn't avoid what he was looking at.

"We've broken what seems to be useful. Fingers. Toes. Ribs. Ankle. Leg. Arm. Nose. So now I start flaying the skin from your body as you watch. That's why I left your eyes as wide open as the day you were born. I want you to see what's happening to you. This is your last chance to tell me where they would have taken her." Brutal, and he used to have integrity in his interrogations. But in this instance, there was no line, no boundary he wouldn't cross for Nemity. That's how crystal clear everything in his life had just become during the last few hours.

She was the only thing that mattered.

Callum inclined his head toward the brute's one working arm and Thomas stepped on it, locking it into place.

The brute's broken feet started to scrape against the stone floor, trying to get away.

Pathetic, really. There was no escaping this.

"Wait. No. I told ye. I dinnae ken anything."

"You know something."

"Just what I told ye. We were—we were supposed to keep her alive—alive until…" The man clamped his mouth closed.

Callum set the tip of the knife under his chin. "Until what?"

"Until we were told to get rid of her. Something needed to be found first. She had to be alive in case it couldn't be found—I dinnae ken what it was. I just heard two of ‘em jabberin' about it."

"Not enough information." Callum made sure to keep his words at a chilling, slow pace, a tortuous death vowed in the lining of his voice. He set the edge of the blade onto the man's upper chest, digging the length of it into his skin. "I may have to saw at it a bit to get it going. Try not to squirm."

He pressed hard, drawing a line of blood as the edge sank into skin.

"Stop. Stop. Please." Blood and snot splattered up from the man's mouth. "Cabin. Cabin. I—I dinnae ken where—it's abandoned—a gamekeeper cabin."

The detachment on his face stone cold, Callum glanced at the man's eyes. "Be more fucking specific." He pulled the knife, digging it in just under the skin.

The man wailed, the scream echoing off the stone around them. "I dinnae ken, I dinnae ken." More spittle and blood splattered out with each word. "There's a tree."

"A fucking tree?" Callum leaned over him, his top lip curling in a snarl. "That's what you're going to give me?"

"A tree—a tree—it's just beyond the lass's land."

"I know it," Thomas shouted.

Leaving his dagger lodged under the brute's skin, Callum looked up at Thomas.

Thomas nodded to him. "It's on the outer border of the Springfell lands. I ride the outside line of the estate every few months and I noticed last winter when there weren't leaves on the trees. There's an abandoned gamekeeper's cottage just beyond the border, and there is an odd ancient oak by it—it looked to be split by lightning long ago, three thick trees growing out of one enormous trunk. It has to be it."

Callum nodded, sliding his dagger out from under the man's skin, digging the blade downward as he did for maximum pain.

The man wailed, breaking into sobs, blubbering. "I told ye. I told ye. Let me go. Let me go. Let me go."

"Let you go?" With those words, something snapped in Thomas and he straddled the man, throwing his fists, punching him, again and again and again. Blood splattering everywhere. The brute's head lolling about, unconscious.

So vicious that it took Callum a moment to react, he was so shocked by the fury pouring out of Thomas. Usually it was him that had to be talked down from fury.

Callum swung an arm around Thomas's torso and yanked him off of the brute, throwing him into the wall. "We have to keep him alive—alive—in case he's lying."

Thomas ignored him and charged at the brute again.

Callum caught him and dragged him out into the hallway outside the cell. With the slope of the undercroft brushing against his head, he flung Thomas away from him.

Thomas rammed into a stone wall and spun, crumbling down against the stone, bent over with his hands on his knees, heaving breath after breath.

Callum stared at him for a long moment, waiting for Thomas to make a dive toward the door of the cell.

He didn't.

Because he was wrecked. Wrecked from head to toe.

Callum walked over to him, holding out his hand to Thomas. "Shit, man. What happened to you when you were gone all those years?"

His look not moving from the stone floor, Thomas shook his head, wiping the side of his face, his voice haunted.

"Hell."

A whisper, barely audible.

Callum nodded. It certainly did look like it.

Thomas took Callum's hand. He let Callum haul him upright, then set his hand in front of his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Hell is what happened to me."

Callum's look set hard on him. "We don't have time for hell. Not now. Now we need to ride."

Thomas's look snapped to Callum. He nodded.