Chapter 27
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
“Ye think ye can end this, lad?” Chester taunted, his voice cutting through the storm. “Think ye have the strength to best me? I’ve fought more men than ye have.”
Alexander didn’t respond. His jaw was clenched, his focus unwavering. The forest around them felt alive with tension—the rustling leaves, the snapping branches beneath their feet, the faint bubble of the river somewhere in the distance. All of it blurred into the background as he advanced.
He swung first, his blade slicing through the rain. Chester parried with a sharp blow, the force of the impact reverberating up Alexander’s arm. The older man countered with a quick thrust, but Alexander twisted away, his boots skidding across the muddy ground.
“Ye’ve some strength in ye,” Chester said, laughing as he pressed forward. “But strength alone doesnae win a fight.”
Alexander gritted his teeth, blocking the man’s next strike and shoving him back. “We’ll see,” he growled, his voice low and steady.
The clash of steel echoed through the trees as their swords met again and again.
Chester was fast for his age, his movements calculated and precise, while Alexander relied on sheer power and grit to match him.
Their blades slid against each other, sparks flying as they pushed closer, their faces inches apart.
“Ye dinnae ken what ye’re doin’, takin’ me daughter,” Chester hissed, his breath hot against Alexander’s face. “She’s nay more than a bairn, too soft to survive yer life.”
Alexander shoved him back with a grunt, his muscles straining. “She’s stronger than ye’ll ever ken,” he declared, his voice rising with anger. “And she’s mine now. She made her choice.”
Chester’s laugh was sharp and bitter as he lunged again, their swords meeting with a deafening clang. The impact sent vibrations through Alexander’s arms, but he held firm, driving Chester back a step.
Behind them, Alexander could hear Helena’s voice, frantic and trembling.
“Alexander, stop!” she cried, her figure barely visible through the trees. “Please, dinnae let him drag ye down to his level!”
“Helena, stay back!” Alexander shouted over his shoulder, his voice firm but laced with worry. He couldn’t afford distractions, not now.
Michael’s voice followed, strained but determined. “Helena, ye’ve got to stay put! Let Alexander handle this!”
But Helena’s silhouette lingered in the distance, and Alexander’s heart clenched. He couldn’t let Chester’s poison seep any further into her life. This had to end.
With a roar, Chester swung wide, forcing Alexander to duck and counter with a heavy blow aimed at the older man’s side. Chester deflected it, his blade twisting toward Alexander’s arm, but Alexander stepped back just in time, the tip of the sword grazing his tunic.
Alexander steadied himself, wiping rain from his eyes. He couldn’t let Chester distract him. All he could think of was Helena—her voice, her face, her fierce spirit. She was the reason he fought, the reason he endured.
Chester swung hard, his blade slicing through the air toward Alexander’s shoulder. Alexander dodged, his sword coming up in a powerful arc that nearly caught Chester’s arm.
The older man growled, stepping back just in time.
“Nae bad,” he muttered, his eyes narrowing. “But nae good enough.”
The fight carried them deeper into the woods, their boots crunching over fallen branches and leaves. The terrain grew rougher, the ground sloping downward toward the river. The sound of rushing water grew louder, mingling with the clang of steel and the ragged breaths of both men.
Helena followed at a distance, her skirts catching in brambles and her voice echoing through the trees.
“Alexander, dinnae let him do this to ye!” she pleaded desperately.
Chester smirked as he glanced over his shoulder. “Hear that? The lass is scared. Maybe she finally realizes she’s made a mistake.”
Alexander’s anger flared, and he surged forward, his blade clashing with Chester’s with a force that made the older man stagger. Chester recovered quickly, jabbing his sword toward Alexander’s chest, but Alexander sidestepped, using his body weight to ram Chester into a nearby tree.
The impact knocked the air out of Chester’s lungs, but he retaliated with a swift punch to Alexander’s side. Alexander grunted in pain, his ribs aching, but he didn’t relent.
With a burst of strength, he shoved Chester down a small hill. The older man tumbled through the wet grass toward the riverbank. He landed hard, but he was quick to scramble to his feet, his sword still in hand.
Alexander followed, his boots sinking into the muddy ground as he approached. The tall grass swayed in the wind, the river rushing just a few paces away.
Chester’s face was flushed, his breath coming in harsh gasps. But he still managed a cruel laugh, raising his sword again.
“Even if ye kill me,” he said, his voice dripping with disdain, “it willnae matter. Me men will hunt ye down, and they’ll destroy everythin’ ye’ve built. Ye’ll never have peace, MacAllister. And that lass ye’re so fond of? She’s nay better than a traitor to her people.”
Alexander’s chest heaved as he stared at the man before him. His sword was raised, ready to strike, but he hesitated. Chester’s words stung, not because they were true but because of the hatred they carried.
“Enough,” he said, his voice low and filled with disdain. “What do ye truly want, Chester? Is this feud worth destroyin’ yer daughter’s life?”
Chester sneered, but Alexander didn’t waver. His sword remained poised, his eyes trained on the older man.
Behind him, Helena and Michael watched from the edge of the trees, holding their breath. Helena’s face was pale, her hands trembling as she clutched Michael’s arm.
Alexander’s heart ached at the sight of her, at the fear and sorrow etched on her features. He turned his attention back to Chester, his jaw tightening with resolve.
“Ye’re a madman, Fraser…”
Chester’s eyes flashed, his fury boiling over. He lunged at Alexander with a guttural roar, their swords clashing violently. The sound of steel meeting steel echoed through the trees as they fought, both men driven by raw emotion.
Chester’s movements were erratic, his anger making him dangerous. He swung his blade in powerful, reckless arcs, forcing Alexander to back away. Alexander parried and dodged, but the older man’s ferocity was unrelenting.
“Ye’ll nae take her from me!” Chester bellowed, his sword slicing through the air. “And ye’ll nae make me bow to yer cursed name!”
Alexander grunted as their blades met again, the force jolting through his arms. “The Gordon name is hers now. Her children and yer heir will have me name. That’s how this ends.”
The words seemed to send Chester into a frenzy. With a roar, he wrenched his blade free and struck hard, the tip of his sword slicing into Alexander’s arm. Blood seeped through the fabric of his sleeve, but Alexander didn’t falter.
He stepped back, gritting his teeth against the pain.
Chester pressed forward, laughing darkly. “Bleedin’, are ye? Aye, that’s just the start. Ye’ll bleed for everything ye’ve done.”
Alexander didn’t respond, his mind focused on the man’s wild swings. Anger made him sloppy, and Alexander seized his chance. He sidestepped a clumsy thrust and swung his blade down, slicing into Chester’s leg.
The wound wasn’t deep, but it was enough to slow him down.
Chester stumbled, cursing under his breath as he steadied himself against a tree. His expression twisted into something almost unrecognizable—pure hatred, but also desperation.
“Ye’ll die for this,” he spat, his voice trembling with rage. “Nay one will take me title. Nay one will inherit what’s mine. I’ll see to that, just like I always have.”
Alexander furrowed his brow, his sword still raised. “What are ye talkin’ about, Chester? Who’s tryin’ to take yer title? Ye’re mad! Ye cannae live forever!”
Chester’s laugh was bitter, his eyes gleaming with twisted pride. “The council wanted me son to take over. Said it was time I stepped down. Fools, the lot of them. They thought they could force me aside. So, I took care of it.”
The weight of the revelation hit Alexander like a blow. “Ye… What?” he hissed.
Chester grinned, the madness in his eyes growing. “Aye, I killed him. Me own son. He and me nephew, Ian, were both threats to me. And it worked. I’m still the Laird. None of them dared to challenge me again.”
A sharp cry broke through the storm.
Helena had fallen to her knees, her hands trembling as she pressed them to her face. “Ye killed them?” she sobbed, her voice cracking. “Yer own son? Yer sister’s only child? Why, Faither? Why would ye do that?!”
Chester turned to her, his expression hardening. “Because they were weak, lass. They werenae fit to lead and threatened me just by drawin’ breath. Same as ye.”
Helena’s sobs grew louder, and Alexander’s fury rose with every second. He could feel his hands shaking as he gripped his sword, his teeth clenched against the urge to end it all right there.
But Chester wasn’t done. He pointed his sword at Helena, his face a mask of cruelty. “And ye? I’d planned to deal with ye, too. Pin it on him.” He gestured toward Alexander. “Just like I did with the others. But ye’re more valuable to me alive, ye traitorous wench.”
Helena gasped, her face pale as tears streamed down her cheeks.
Michael moved to her side, his expression grim as he helped her to her feet. “Helena, dinnae listen to him,” he said, his voice soft but urgent. “He’s lost his mind.”
Chester laughed, the sound echoing through the forest. “Lost me mind, have I? Nay, lad. I see things clearer than ever. Power is all that matters. It’s all that’s ever mattered.”
Alexander’s vision blurred with rage, his breath coming in sharp, shallow bursts. He stepped forward, his sword steady despite the fire burning in his chest.
“Ye’re nae a man,” he growled, his voice trembling with fury. “Ye’re a coward. A monster. And I’ll make sure ye never hurt her or anyone else ever again.”
Chester sneered, raising his sword once more. “Try it, MacAllister. Let’s see if ye’ve got the spine for it.”