Chapter 29

Sebastian rode like the furies. Like the hounds of war unleashed from their cages. Like a tempest sweeping through a valley, relentless and fearsome, a force that left chaos in its wake, devastating to whoever found themselves unlucky enough to cross its path. Blood pumped in his ears, through his veins, into his hands which gripped the reins so tight that his palms were bleeding. Even his ankles felt bruised from kicking the side of his stallion, spurring it to gallop faster. In that moment, nothing in the world could halt his charge, nor would any dare to try.

It took him all of three minutes for the full scope of the calamity to dawn on him.

Once he came back into himself. Once he was able to calm a weeping Lucy and puzzle out the rest of the story. Once he confirmed that his wife, Virtue, had indeed been abducted—everything else snapped into place with chilling clarity.

He did not bother with informing Albion as to where he was headed. He did not feel the need to stop and reason out a plan of action. There would be no plan required. No plotting. No negotiation. No wondering if there might be a calmer, more measured approach. Today, Sebastian was going to draw blood and he would not rest until his wife was safe and her abductor lay dead at his feet.

Before he thundered away from his estate to saddle the swiftest horse in his stable, there was one important stop that Sebastian was sure to make. A crucial detour to his old drawing room. There, in a chest tucked under some loose stone that had remained locked for a decade, lay his old military uniform, mementos of past battles he had been unwilling to part with, and most crucially, his saber and pistol.

The Royal Butcher had returned.

His destination was ordinarily a forty-minute ride from Greystone. Which he covered in less than fifteen. The target was a little more than a farmhouse, albeit larger and grander in design. Two stories tall, made from stone and mortar as opposed to timber, large enough to house an entire family and their servants. It sat on vast tracts of land, green pastures, and meadows that Sebastian reached long before he spied the house. Sheep were flocked in droves as far as the eye could see, and many glanced up curiously as he rode the lanes through the meadows, his stare hardened and set for the end of the way.

This was a house he had never visited before, yet he knew its owner all too well. He wished he did not. He wished that he had never needed to hear that name before. But that simply was not the case. Could never be the case.

And what he wished for most, was that he had acted sooner. That gnawing regret of inaction plagued him. He remembered the day the man had appeared uninvited at Greystone, his attention towards Virtue far too keen. Sebastian had restrained himself then, determined not to succumb to the darker impulses that beckoned him. He had made a vow to avoid the path of the monster he feared becoming—for his wife's sake more than anything. He had tried to bury those violent instincts, to ignore them, hoping they would fade. But now, faced with this all too real crisis, the beast within clamored for release, ravenous for vengeance.

Amidst his fury, Sebastian clung to a sliver of hope that Virtue was unharmed, though he dared not let his hopes soar too high. The sequence of events—unanswered love letters, a botched poisoning borne of spite, and now this desperate act of abduction—was a clear escalation by a man scorned, one who had seized the opportunity when he knew Sebastian would be away...

That was the sharp sting of guilt that pierced Sebastian's heart most painfully. That he was not present. He had promised Virtue never to leave her side again. Sworn to protect her, yet in his absence, he had only failed her once more. And now… now he feared it might be too late.

It might have been wise to approach the house with caution. To stealthily make his way without alerting its owner of his presence—especially given that Virtue's safety was at stake, and startling her captor could provoke reckless action. However, wisdom was far from Sebastian's mind, consumed as it was by raw, unfiltered rage. He charged toward the house, dismounting his stallion with such force that the earth gave way beneath his feet.

"Prescott!" he bellowed as his boots thrashed against the dirt, his voice thundering across the quiet of the meadow. "Prescott!"

The saber drew from its sheath with a swift, smooth motion, a feeling that beheld a grim familiarity. With the hilt tucked firmly in his right palm, Sebastian strode to the small door of the farmhouse. It was just as he reached the door that it drew open, which had Sebastian thrusting his boot against it, sending it slamming back against the man on the other side.

His leg crunched into the wood before he heaved it back. Then, he surged forward, stepping into the house and leveling his saber at the figure now lying sprawled on the floor before him.

"Where is she?!" Sebastian roared, the point of his blade at Prescott's throat.

Lord Prescott met Sebastian's furious gaze with fear and surprise. "Your Grace! Wh—what are you—"

"Where is she?!" Sebastian's voice boomed again, his blade drawing back just enough to allow him to drive the heel of his boot into Prescott's face. The sickening crunch of a nose breaking and Prescott's ensuing cries of pain filled the room. "Where. Is. She."

"Where is who?!" Lord Prescott pawed at his bleeding face.

"My wife!" Sebastian bellowed, his boot poised for another crushing blow. But this time, Prescott was prepared. He threw up his hands, seizing Sebastian's boot and, with a desperate shove, pushed him backward.

It was as he stumbled that Prescott turned and scrambled across the floor, pushing himself to his feet and sprinting from the room. The pistol came free from its holster and Sebastian fired, missing Lord Prescott by inches, spraying wood from the doorframe where the bullet struck.

"Tell me where she is!" Sebastian pursued him with the gait of a rhino.

"I don't know what you're talking about!" Prescott's voice cried from somewhere in the house.

"You took her! I know it was you!" He re-holstered his pistol but kept the saber drawn. "Where is she?! If you have so much as touched a hair—"

"You have taken leave of your senses!" came a desperate retort.

Sebastian burst into the dining room just in time to see Lord Prescott disappearing through another door. "Get back here!"

Through the house, he pursued the terror-stricken lordling, cornering him in the kitchens where Prescott snatched a pan from its hook and flung it overhead at Sebastian. He parried the makeshift weapon with ease, but the action blinded him for a moment and Prescott pounced.

Prescott seized Sebastian by the wrist that wielded the saber, forcing it upward as the two men grappled fiercely.

"She was abducted!" Sebastian growled in Prescott's face. "And I know it was your doing!"

"I haven't... the faintest... what you speak of!" Prescott struggled against Sebastian's formidable strength to keep the blade at bay.

"Confess now!" Slowly, Sebastian began to overpower the lord. "Or I will make you confess!"

"I know nothing—argh!"

Sebastian's advantage was clear; his size and fury lent him a fearsome strength. He delivered a brutal headbutt to Prescott's already bloodied nose. Another crunch and Prescott lost his grip on his wrist and stumbled back. Sebastian, thinking quickly, took the lord by the collar and drove the butt of his saber into the man's face. Blood sprayed. Prescott shrieked in agony. And Sebastian was nowhere near finished.

He flung Prescott to the ground like a ragdoll, driving his boot into the man's gut.

"Tell me!"

"What do you want me to say?!" Prescott gasped, winded and pained.

"Tell me!" Another kick.

"Argh!"

Sebastian stood teetering on the brink of exacting final retribution upon Lord Prescott there and then. The rush of adrenaline, the boiling rage, and the intense fury coursing through him pushed him dangerously close to driving his blade through the man once and for all. Yet, it was the thought of Virtue, the lingering hope of her safety, that held his hand. If he were to kill Prescott now, he might forever lose any chance of finding her.

The self-control it took not to kill the man... Sebastian could not believe he had it in him. He wanted nothing more than to tear the man limb from limb...

"Not yet..." He murmured more to himself than Prescott.

"I don't know… what you want!" Prescott whimpered on the ground.

"You will." Sebastian grabbed the man by the scruff of the neck and dragged him from the kitchen.

He hauled Prescott through the house, the lord now too battered to offer any resistance. Once outside, Sebastian hoisted him with one arm and hurled him across the dirt, where he landed in a crumpled heap.

Free from Sebastian's clutches, Prescott scrambled to his knees and tried to crawl away, but Sebastian delivered a sharp kick into his back, which had the lord eating a mouthful of dirt.

"Come here." He lifted Prescott to his knees from his collar. Then he held the point of his saber to the man's trembling throat. Sebastian could not imagine how he must have looked. No mask—his scarred face red and sweaty and callous. Bloodshot eyes. Body heaving from exhaustion. It was no wonder Prescott looked at him like he was a monster come to life.

"Please..." Lord Prescott begged.

"It was you who sent those letters," Sebastian snarled as he dug the tip of his sword into the lord's neck.

"It was—but I apologized for that! I confessed to Virtue and sought her forgiveness. I was wrong!"

"You could not bear to see us happy!" he barked. "Admit it!"

"I admit it!" he cried pathetically.

"And the poison! You sent it!"

"What?" His eyes went wide. "No! That wasn't me! I could never!"

"You lie, still?!"

"I am not lying!" Prescott strained against the pressure of the blade, trying to maintain eye contact with Sebastian, desperate to convey his sincerity. "I did not send that poison. That was why I visited her today! To explain—so she would know!"

"Wait..." Sebastian's grip on the sword loosened slightly, the blade lowering just an inch. "You... you saw Virtue today?"

"What? Yes. I thought she must have told you."

"When?" Sebastian growled, his grip on the sword tightening again. "What time did you visit her?"

"A… a few hours ago now," he whimpered. "You had just departed! I waited until you had left, and for that, I apologize. But I did not want you to be there. You would have slaughtered me there and then, I fear. I needed to speak with her alone."

"You awaited my departure...?" His body shook.

"I had no choice!"

"You knew the castle to be unguarded... you saw the renovations that were being done…" His arm tensed.

"It was not nefarious! I was not trying to sneak around you! I simply knew that if you were home, I might not have the chance to speak what was in my heart."

"And what did you speak?" Sebastian snarled.

"An apology! Nothing more! I tendered my apologies and took my leave of her!"

"Liar!" With his left hand, he took Lord Prescott by the collar. And with his right, he drew his saber over the man.

"I swear it is the truth!" Lord Prescott pleaded desperately. "I sold my home to relocate to York, and this was my final opportunity to speak with her. Why else would the farmhouse appear so deserted? I am alone, and Virtue is not with me. I assure you!"

Sebastian's gaze shifted sharply to the house and then back to the battered visage of the man before him. "That proves nothing!" his voice thundered as he raised his saber, the blade gleaming with deadly intention, ready to thrust into the man and—

"Wait!" A sudden shout interrupted the moment. "I would not do that if I were you!"

Sebastian paused, sword halfway to Lord Prescott's neck. He looked over his shoulder and his infuriation somehow amplified. "You!" He shoved Lord Prescott back into the dirt and spun about, sword pointed and raised. "You let him take her!"

"Woah!" Justine Mendoza hurried across the estate, hands raised. "You might want to put that down, Your Grace."

"Where were you?!" Sebastian strode to meet Justine head-on. "I had explicitly told you to shadow the man! Why did you not stop him?"

"Stop him from doing wh—" He never got the words out.

Sebastian's fist connected with Justine's face, sending the short man into the dirt. He cried out with pain as he collapsed, and then turned onto his back and scurried away, eyes wide and wild as he came to realize that maybe he shouldn't have left his hiding place.

"What was that for, cuadre?!"

"Virtue is gone! And you let him take her!"

"Wh—what?" Justine gasped. "What do you mean she is gone?"

"Or perhaps the two of you conspired together?!" He spun back to be sure that Lord Prescott was not about to tackle him, and then was back on Justine. "Is that what this is? After I employ you, you sell yourself to the highest bidder? You hatch this little scheme together?!"

"Your Grace..." Justine cautiously rose to his feet, one hand extended in a pacifying gesture, maintaining eye contact with Sebastian, not daring to break it. "I assure you, whatever you think has happened, Lord Prescott had no part in it."

"Who is this man!" Lord Prescott interjected.

"Nice try!" Sebastian snapped dismissively.

"I have been watching him the entire day!" Justine exclaimed, his voice desperate to convey the truth. "Yes, he did visit your wife. He was there for less than five minutes. And he did not step foot inside the castle. Then he returned here, alone, on his own!"

"Liar!"

"I am many things, Hermano. But I am no liar."

"Now hold on a moment!" Lord Prescott was back on his feet—blood poured from his nose, but he ignored it. "You hired this man to watch over me?"

"He sure did!" Justine smiled a toothy grin at Lord Prescott. "A pleasure to officially meet you, Lord Prescott. The name is Justine Mendoza, tradesman, bootlegger, and occasional spy if the price is right—"

"Enough!" Sebastian roared over the two of them. "Yes, I hired him to keep an eye on you. And I had every right to do so! You tried to poison my wife, you blackguard!"

"I have told you many times, I did no such thing!"

"And then you abducted her!" Sebastian wheeled around, his blade poised threateningly at Lord Prescott, who stood his ground defiantly this time.

"I most certainly did not!"

"Do not play me for a fool, Prescott!"

"For heaven's sake, I am speaking the truth man!"

"He is being truthful, Your Grace! Whatever his faults, this man is no kidnapper."

"Someone kidnapped Virtue?" Lord Prescott appeared genuinely surprised for a moment. "When? How?"

"Do not feign ignorance with me."

It was all too much. Adrenaline still surging. Rage still pumping. Sebastian's eyes flicked to Prescott's home, the realization that Virtue might be tied up in there right now, awaiting her rescue. All he'd need to do is strike these two men down and be done with it. Why was he hesitating?

"I shall offer you one final opportunity." Sebastian advanced, pressing the tip of his saber lightly against Lord Prescott's throat. "Where is Virtue?"

Lord Prescott met Sebastian's fierce gaze unflinchingly and retorted, "It was not me!"

"Then you shall meet your end—"

"Perhaps you should inquire with Lord Wellington before making any rash decisions!" Justine suddenly cried over them.

Sebastian balked. "Wh—what?" He glanced over his shoulder. "What do you mean by that?"

"…Precisely what I said?" Justine answered carefully.

"Simon Wellington is dead!"

"What? Since when?" Justine's brows furrowed in confusion.

"Two weeks ago."

"He most certainly is not."

"Are you accusing me of being a liar?"

"I am suggesting you are misinformed," Justine corrected gently. "Either that, or I ought to quit my drinking habits."

Sebastian drew his pistol with his free hand, leveling it at Justine. "Explain yourself."

"Going to shoot me with an empty pistol?" Justine chuckled, unshaken.

"Or I could just beat you to death with it."

His amusement suddenly faded. "Ah, point taken."

"Explain!" he demanded.

"Alright, alright..." Justine took a cautious step back. "Calm yourself, hermano. I am merely trying to say that I saw Lord Wellington myself just a few hours ago. He appeared at your homestead not two minutes after Lord Prescott departed. I saw him as clearly as I see you now. Unless he happens to have a twin…?"

"No..." Sebastian shook his head. "That's—that's impossible. He's dead. What game are you playing?"

"No game. Digo la verdad. He was the last one to see your lady wife. Perhaps he has more up-to-date information?"

It took Sebastian a moment. First, thinking that Justine was either lying to him or had misunderstood what he had seen. Then, noting the lack of guile on the little man's face... an acceptance that he had seen what he claimed to see.

If Simon was indeed alive... he had somehow purposefully deceived Sebastian and Ralph into believing him dead... he had misled them...

"Oh, God..." Sebastian lowered his saber and pistol at the same time. "Simon... what are you doing…"