Chapter 34
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
“The McLarens daenae deserve happiness,” Jack snarled, spittle flying, “ye steal lives, kill wives, and then ye expect joy as if God owes ye aught.”
Connor’s jaw clenched as he listened, his gaze never leaving Eva. “Yer quarrel is with me faither, and he is gone,” Connor said, “leave her out of yer madness.”
Jack shook his head wildly, rage loosening his hold without him noticing.
“She’s part of it now,” he shouted, “she’s the future ye were promised, and I’ll see it burn as mine was.”
In that moment, his arms swung wide in emphasis, and Eva twisted free with a gasp. She bolted across the clearing, skirts flying, straight toward Connor.
Connor lunged forward, catching her against his chest and dragging her behind him in one swift motion. He turned his body between her and Jack, sword flashing up in warning.
“Stay back, Eva,” he said tightly, not daring to look away from Jack. He felt her trembling hand clutch his back, alive and real, and his fury sharpened to steel.
Jack roared in frustration as the prize slipped from him.
“Coward,” he spat, advancing a step, “takin' Michael from me now is folly.”
Connor planted his feet, blade raised, eyes cold. “Take another step, and I’ll end this,” he warned, his voice low and lethal.
Michael moved forward then, anguish written plain on his face. “Da, stop this,” he pleaded, “this has gone too far.”
Jack wheeled on him, eyes blazing. “Too far?” he shouted, “I buried me wife with me own hands, and ye say too far?”
Connor felt Eva press closer behind him, her breath quick against his back.
“Michael owes ye nothin’,” Connor said, forcing calm into his voice. “And neither does Eva.”
Jack’s laugh cracked, sharp and broken. “Yer faither took everythin’ from me,” he said, “So I’ll take everythin’ from ye, his eldest son.”
Jack lunged suddenly, blade flashing, and Connor met him with a ringing clash of steel. The impact jarred his arm, but he held firm, driving Jack back a step.
“Stop. I daenae want to kill ye,” Connor growled as they locked blades.
Jack’s breath came ragged, eyes wild.
“Kill?” Jack hissed, “There is nay end for men like me.”
Connor shoved him away, creating space, never turning his back on Eva.
“There is,” Connor said grimly, “when the truth’s paid for in blood or mercy.”
Jack hesitated, the word mercy striking deeper than steel.
Around them, Connor’s men closed the ring, weapons drawn but held at bay by Connor’s raised hand. Michael stood frozen, torn between the man who raised him and the truth unraveling before him.
“Da,” he said again, voice breaking, “please.”
Jack’s shoulders sagged for a heartbeat, grief flashing through the rage.
Connor seized that moment, stepping forward with purpose.
“Lay down yer blade,” he said, voice firm but measured, “and answer for what ye’ve done.”
Jack looked from Connor to Michael, then to Eva hidden behind Connor’s shoulder. His hand trembled, the fight draining out of him in ragged breaths.
The clearing held its breath as Jack slowly lowered his sword. Connor did not relax, keeping Eva shielded, his body still coiled to strike if needed.
“I cannae pay for me faither's deeds. I am nae him. But ye took me brother from me and now I’m takin’ him back,” Connor said.
Then Connor saw the darkness settle fully into Jack’s eyes, a black tide that drowned reason and mercy alike. Jack’s face twisted with grief and fury at the thought of losing his son, and with a raw shout he raised his sword.
“I’ll nae lose him,” Jack roared, voice breaking, “I’ll kill ye all first.” His guards surged with him, blades flashing as the clearing exploded into motion.
Connor barely had time to shove Eva into the trees before steel rang on steel. Jack came at him wild and unmeasured, hacking with the strength of desperation rather than skill.
“Jack, stop this madness,” Connor shouted as he parried, feet sliding in the churned earth. Jack answered only with a snarl and another savage swing.
One of Jack’s guards lunged from the side, and Connor twisted, catching the blade on his own and driving his shoulder into the man’s chest. The guard staggered back, cursing, and Connor followed through with a clean thrust that ended the fight in a breath.
The man fell without another sound, blood darkening the leaves beneath him.
Connor swallowed hard, already turning back to Jack.
“Stand down,” Connor shouted again, breath coming fast now, “ye’ve lost enough this day.”
Jack laughed, high and broken, and charged anew. “I lost everythin’ the day yer faither murdered me wife,” Jack screamed. Their swords clashed again, sparks leaping as grief met resolve.
Behind them, David crashed into two guards who had tried to circle wide.
“Ye’ll nae touch him,” David growled, slamming his shield into one man’s jaw. The second guard swung wildly, but David ducked and drove his blade into the man’s thigh, sending him sprawling with a howl. David stood over them, chest heaving, eyes locked on the fight ahead.
Connor backed Jack toward the center of the clearing, trying to keep Eva within his sight.
“Michael is me brother, nae yer son,” Connor said harshly, forcing Jack back with a flurry of controlled strikes.
Jack suddenly broke away, spinning past Connor with startling speed.
“Then I’ll take what ye love,” he bellowed, charging straight toward Eva.
Eva screamed, stumbling backward as fear froze her feet.
Connor’s heart lurched painfully as he shouted her name. “Eva.”
Connor launched himself after Jack, his body moving faster than thought.
“Nay!” he roared, closing the distance in three desperate strides.
Jack raised his sword high, eyes fixed on Eva, madness blazing unchecked. Time seemed to slow as Connor lifted his blade.
Steel drove through flesh with a sickening finality as Connor struck Jack from behind.
Jack gasped, the sword slipping from his fingers as the force of the blow drove him forward.
He fell to his knees, breath shuddering, the rage draining out of him in a rush of blood.
Connor stood frozen for a heartbeat, horror and grim necessity warring in his chest.
Jack turned his head slightly, eyes already dimming, and looked at Connor.
“Tell… tell Michael I love him,” he rasped, voice barely sound.
Connor swallowed hard, his grip trembling on the hilt. “I will,” he said quietly as Jack collapsed fully to the ground.
The clearing fell into stunned silence, broken only by ragged breathing. Connor turned at once, crossing to Eva and pulling her into his arms.
“It’s done,” he murmured, voice rough, holding her as if she might vanish. Eva clutched him tightly, tears soaking into his cloak as her body shook.
Michael stood rooted a short distance away, staring at Jack’s still form with hollow eyes.
“Da,” he whispered, the word torn from him like a wound.
Connor looked at him with aching sympathy, knowing there were no words to mend such a loss. David lowered his weapon and bowed his head, the cost of the skirmish heavy on them all.
Connor held Eva close as the men secured the clearing, his gaze drifting back to Jack’s body. He felt no triumph, only the grim weight of what had been necessary to save the woman he loved.
“I’m sorry it came to this,” he murmured, unsure if the words were meant for Jack, Michael, or himself.
In the hush that followed, Connor vowed silently that this cycle of blood would end with him.
Connor looked at Michael as he sank to his knees beside Jack’s body, a broken sound tearing from his chest. The lad’s shoulders shook as he wept, hands fisted in his father’s cloak as though he might pull him back from death.
Connor stood a short distance away, sword hanging heavy at his side, the fury of moments past replaced by a hollow ache.
He felt the weight of every life in that clearing press down upon him.
Michael looked up at last, eyes red and unfocused, and Connor stepped closer.
“I’m sorry,” Connor said quietly, his voice thick, “I kent nay other way.”
Michael shook his head slowly, tears still tracking down his face. “I saw it,” he said hoarsely, “ye were defendin’ Eva.”
Connor let out a breath he had been holding since the blade fell. “I’d have spared him if I could,” he said, glancing down at Jack.
Michael wiped his face with his sleeve and nodded again. “He was lost,” Michael whispered, “rage took him long before this moment.”
Silence settled between them, broken only by the rustle of leaves. Connor placed a hand on Michael’s shoulder, firm and steady.
“He deserves a proper burial,” Connor said at last. “And I’ll see it done, as is right.” He turned and called out, “David.”
David stepped forward at once, bloodied but standing strong.
“Take Jack,” Connor ordered, his voice measured, “and see he’s returned to his clan for burial.” David inclined his head solemnly. “Aye, me laird, I’ll see to it.”
Two guards moved to help David lift the body, handling it with care.
Michael rose slowly and followed them, his steps unsteady as though the ground itself had shifted beneath him.
Connor watched him closely, ready to catch him should he fall.
Eva hovered nearby, pale and shaken, her eyes never leaving Connor’s face.
“It’s over now,” Connor said softly to her, though the words felt fragile.
Eva nodded, pressing her lips together as she reached for his hand. “I kent ye’d come,” she murmured.
Connor squeezed her fingers briefly before turning back to Michael.
They mounted their horses in somber quiet, the forest suddenly seeming too still.
Michael rode behind Connor, staring ahead without seeing, his grief locked deep inside.
The path back felt longer than before, each hoofbeat echoing like a funeral drum.
Connor rode at the head, jaw set, mind racing with what must come next.
Eva sat behind him, her arms wrapped around him. Her head resting on his back.
As they cleared the trees, Michael finally spoke. “All me life,” he said quietly, “I thought I kent who I was.”
Connor glanced back at him. “Ye still will,” Connor said gently, “it’ll just take time.”
“Time,” he repeated, as though the word had lost meaning. “I daenae ken where I belong now.”
Connor slowed his horse until they rode side by side. “Ye belong at Castle McLaren,” Connor said. “Ye’re nae alone, brother. Ye’re strong.”
Michael finally met his eyes, pain raw and unguarded. “I daenae feel strong,” Michael admitted.
“Ye neednae be at this moment,” Connor answered.
Michael swallowed and looked away. “He did love me,” he said, almost pleading.
Connor nodded without hesitation. “Aye,” he said, “that much was true.”
The words seemed to give Michael a sliver of peace.
Connor watched as Michael rode in silence. The lad moved like one walking through a dream, grief weighing down every breath.
He thought of blood spilled, of brothers found and fathers lost. He vowed then that Michael would not bear this burden alone. Connor resolved to build something better from the ashes left behind.
He felt Eva's arms tighten around him. She rode on his saddle behind him, giving him reassurance in her touch.
I'll never lose her again. Eva, me love.