Chapter 2
“Stand still, ye hear me? All four of ye, in a line.”
Piper stood where they’d shoved her, her legs trembling so badly she could barely keep upright. Two months. It had been two months since those men had dragged her from the alley, and every day had been worse than the last.
The holding cell had been dark and cold. The food, when they bothered to feed them, was barely edible. And the other girls…
Piper glanced to her left. Gabriella stood there, her once-beautiful face now gaunt and hollow. She’d been there six months, someone had whispered. Six months of this nightmare. Yet despite everything, her dark eyes burned with defiance.
“I willnae submit,” Gabriella muttered under her breath, so quietly only Piper could hear. “I’d rather die.”
“Quiet!” One of the guards—Lewis, the leader of this whole sick operation—strode past them. His cold eyes assessed each girl like livestock at market. “The lairds will be here soon. Time to see what ye’re really worth.”
P Piper’s stomach churned.
The lairds.
They’d been told what was coming. What this was. A hunt. They would be prey, and men on horseback would chase them through the woods like animals.
To her right stood Madison, the oldest of them at twenty-three.
She’d been here the longest—over a year, they said.
She’d even survived one hunt already, but Lewis and his men had made sure she wouldn’t escape this time.
Her left leg bore fresh injuries, barely healed wounds that must have screamed with every step.
Yet Madison stood tall, her jaw set. She was shaking, Piper could see it in the way her thin frame quivered, but not from fear. From anticipation. From the desperate, feral need to survive.
She’s the strongest of us all. If anyone can escape this, it’s her.
“I see ye admirin’ Madison,” Lewis said, suddenly beside Piper. His breath was hot and sour against her ear. “Daenae get any ideas, plump girl. Ye’re nae like her. Ye’re soft, slow. Ye’ll be caught within minutes.”
Piper flinched but said nothing. What could she say? He was right. She wasn’t strong like Madison or fierce like Gabriella. She was just… Piper. Plump, clumsy Piper who’d spent her whole life being told she was worthless.
On the far end of their line stood Flora, barely eighteen.
The youngest. She hadn’t spoken a single word since Piper had arrived, not one.
Whatever had happened to her had stolen her voice entirely.
Right now, Flora’s face was ghostly white, her gray eyes wide with terror.
She looked like she might collapse at any moment.
“Poor wee thing,” Gabriella whispered, following Piper’s gaze. “She willnae last five minutes out there.”
“Maybe—” Piper started, but Lewis’s voice cut her off.
“Enough chatterin’! They’re comin’!”
The sound of hoofbeats grew louder. Piper’s heart began to race. She looked around desperately, taking in their surroundings for the first time since they’d been dragged from the wagon.
They stood at the edge of a massive clearing. Behind them, dense forest stretched into darkness. To the left, the land sloped upward toward rocky cliffs. Ahead, more open ground before the trees thickened again.
“Listen carefully,” Lewis said, pacing in front of them.
“When the horn sounds, ye run. Run for the trees, run for the cliffs, run wherever ye like. But ken this—there are a dozen lairds out there, all on horseback, all eager to claim their prize. If they catch ye…” He grinned viciously.
“Well, ye belong to them. To do with as they please.”
“And if we are able to get away? Before any laird catches us.” Gabriella asked, her voice sharp.
Lewis laughed. “Nay one gets away from these lairds, lass. They paid too much to be that careless. But if by some miracle ye do, ye’re free. That’s the game.”
“Some game,” Madison muttered, shifting her weight off her injured leg.
Piper's jaw clenched.
A lie.
She knew it was a lie. Madison had escaped once before—made it all the way to freedom—only to be hunted down and dragged back. They'd beaten her so badly she could barely walk now. If escaping truly meant freedom, Madison wouldn't be standing here, broken and bleeding.
The hoofbeats were close now. Piper could see them—six men on powerful horses, riding toward the clearing. Even from a distance, she could sense their confidence, their arrogance. They thought this would be easy.
Maybe they were right.
“Remember,” Lewis said, his voice dropping. “The lairds have paid good money for this. Daenae disappoint them by dyin’ too quickly.” He looked directly at Gabriella. “Especially ye, troublemaker. I made sure to tell them ye’re the feisty one.”
Gabriella’s jaw clenched, but she didn’t respond.
One of Lewis’s men approached, carrying a horn. An actual hunting horn, as if this were some grand sport instead of the horror it truly was.
“Any last words?” Lewis asked mockingly. “Any tearful goodbyes?”
Madison turned to look at them all, her eyes fierce despite her weakened state. “Run fast. Run smart. And if ye get the chance, survive.”
“I’m goin’ for the cliffs,” Gabriella said quietly. “Either I find a way down, or…” She didn’t finish, but they all understood.
Flora said nothing, just stared at the forest with those terrified eyes.
“What about ye, plump girl?” Lewis sneered at Piper. “Got a plan? Or are ye just goin’ to waddle into the woods and hope for the best?”
Anger flared in Piper’s chest. Two months of abuse, two months of fear, two months of being called worthless and ugly and fat. She was done.
“I’m goin’ to survive,” she said, her voice stronger than she felt. “And then I’m goin’ to watch ye hang for this.”
Lewis’s face darkened. He raised his hand as if to strike her, but one of the lairds had ridden close enough to see. Lewis lowered his hand with obvious reluctance.
“We’ll see about that,” he muttered. “We’ll see.”
The lairds formed a line, their horses stamping and snorting. Piper couldn’t make out their faces clearly, but she could feel their eyes on her. On all of them. Assessing. Choosing their prey.
“Ready the horn!” Lewis shouted.
Piper’s whole body tensed. Her mind raced through possibilities. The forest was closest, but everyone would run there. The cliffs were dangerous but offered a better chance if she could find a path down. The open ground was suicide.
The forest. Run for the forest and daenae stop. Daenae look back. Just run.
The man raised the horn to his lips.
Time seemed to slow. Piper could hear her own heartbeat, thunderous in her ears. Could feel the cold morning air on her skin. Could smell the earth and trees and her own fear.
Please. Please let me survive this. I daenae want to die. Nae like this.
The horn sounded, a long, mournful note that echoed across the clearing.
“Run!” Lewis roared. “Run, ye stupid lasses!”
Piper ran.
She ran as fast as her legs could go toward the trees. Beside her, Gabriella veered left toward the cliffs. Madison headed straight for the deepest part of the forest despite her limp. Flora stumbled, caught herself, and kept going.
Behind them, the thunder of hoofbeats began.
Faster. Run faster.
Piper’s lungs burned. Her side cramped. But she didn’t stop. Couldn’t stop. The tree line was so close, just a few more yards—
“I see ye, bonnie!”
The voice came from behind and to her right. Close. Too close. Piper risked a glance back and saw a laird on a gray horse, grinning like a wolf. He was older, his face cruel, his eyes hungry.
“Ye cannae outrun me, lass! I’ve got ye now!”
Piper pushed harder, her breath coming in ragged gasps. The trees were right there. If she could just reach them, maybe she could hide, maybe—
The hoofbeats were right behind her.
At the last second, Piper dove sideways, rolling into a thicket of bushes. Thorns tore at her dress, scratched her skin, but she bit down on her scream. The horse thundered past, the laird cursing.
“Where’d ye go? Come out, come out, little mouse!”
Piper pressed herself against the ground, trying to make herself as small as possible. Her heart hammered so hard she was sure he could hear it. Through the branches, she could see the laird circling his horse, searching.
Please daenae find me. Please.
“I ken ye’re here,” the laird sing-songed. His voice made her skin crawl. “I can smell yer fear. Smell yer sweat. Ye’re a plump little thing, arenae ye? I like that. More to hold onto when I claim ye.”
Piper clamped a hand over her mouth to keep from whimpering. He was so close. Just a few feet away. If he looked down, if he saw any movement—
“There ye are!”
A hand shot into the thicket, grabbing for her.
Piper saw it coming—saw the dirt under his fingernails, the calluses on his palm—and acted on pure instinct.
She bit down. Hard.
The laird howled, jerking his hand back. “Ye little bitch! Ye bit me!”
Piper scrambled out the other side of the thicket and ran. Ran deeper into the forest, branches whipping her face, roots trying to trip her. Behind her, the laird was shouting, his horse crashing through the undergrowth.
“Ye’ll pay for that! When I catch ye, and I will catch ye, ye’ll pay for it. This is goin’ to be fun.”
Piper wasn’t listening. She focused on running, on putting distance between them. The forest grew thicker here, harder for a horse to navigate. Maybe she had a chance. Maybe—
She burst out of a dense patch of trees and ran straight into something solid.
Strong arms caught her before she could fall. Piper looked up, ready to fight, ready to bite and scratch and kick.
And froze.
The man holding her was tall. Broad-shouldered. Dark-haired. His green eyes stared down at her with an intensity that stole her breath. He wasn’t like the other laird—there was no cruelty in his face, no sick hunger. But there was something else. Something dangerous.
“Got ye,” he growled, his voice low and rough.
Behind her, Piper heard the other laird breaking through the trees.
She was caught. After everything, after all her desperate running, she was caught.
And the man holding her showed no sign of letting go.