Chapter 19
Killian staggered back, the sharp taste of copper filling his mouth as his vision clouded with a constellation of bright stars.
The punch had been unexpected, but it served as a brutal wake-up call that only sharpened his senses.
The world around him narrowed to a single focus.
Killian didn't hear Leah pleading for him to cease.
He didn't feel the impact of his fists connecting with flesh or bone.
Adrenaline surged through his veins as he glared at the men surrounding him, anticipating which one would lunge first. Refusing to play the waiting game, Killian made his move.
With a primal growl, he launched himself at the leanest man there, his muscles coiled and released like a spring, shooting him faster than an arrow.
The satisfying crunch of his fist meeting flesh resonated through his arm as the man staggered back and careened into the back of the tailor's shop.
"What's the matter? Daenae tell me ye’re already tryin' to leave the party?" Killian asked as the man to his left took a swing at him. Without missing a beat, Killian ducked and landed a right hook to the man's ribs.
"I think that broke," Killian hissed as the man crumbled to the ground in utter agony.
Before he could press his advantage, two figures loomed at the edges of his vision, intent on bringing him down.
Killian spun about, his movements fluid and fierce.
It took him no time at all to evade their clumsy attempts to restrain him.
It soon became clear the men were not professionals.
This wasn't a fight for lairdship, but pride and ego.
Killian wasn't having it. He lashed out with precision, his fists a blur of motion, driving the two men back with a fierce determination.
"Let me go! Killian!"
Leah's shrill plea pricked his ear. Her muffled screams cut through the chaos, distracting him from his immediate threat. His heart seized as he caught sight of the backside of Leah over the shoulder of one of the brutes.
Rage and desperation sparked like flint to a rock and the spark to kindling. An all-consuming inferno scorched all rational thought. With a roar, Killian plowed through the first man, his body a battering ram fueled by sheer strength and will. The man crumbled to the ground.
"Killian!" Leah's screams pierced his hardened heart that thundered in his ears. Fueled by fury and a fierce protectiveness for Leah, Killian pushed himself to go harder. He was absolutely determined to rescue Leah from the clutches of her captors—or die trying.
Moving with lethal precision, Killian followed his gut as he moved through the village, scouring every corner and alleyway for Leah. Her cries for help drifted over the music just enough for Killian to pick up on them. Holding his breath, he tried to pinpoint where exactly she was.
"So help me, if ye harm her, I'll kill ye," Killian shouted, his veins bulging as the words scraped against his raw throat. Flexing his jaw, Killian tried to tame the tempest of his mind, but fury and determination brewed and boiled as his resolve to save her intensified.
Darting and dashing around the corner, Killian stopped short as a blade crashed into the post next to his head.
"That will be yer last mistake," Killian growled as he pulled the knife from the post and took aim.
The blade whistled through the air. Killian waited for his aim to hit its mark.
The man dropped and crashed into the stone wall, tossing Leah off his shoulder.
The second she was free, Killian marched on the kidnapper only to find he'd been led into a trap.
Three men stepped out from the shadows. Killian quickly took stock of the situation.
Only three things were flickering through his mind.
Was Leah all right?
How bloody was this about to be?
What body parts did he want to bring home for souvenirs?
"I think maybe it is ye who have underestimated the situation," the man who captured Leah said as he spun the tip of his dirk on the bed of his finger. "Ye see, there's a price for yer head."
"A very handsome one at that," a second chimed in. Killian glanced at the man. Sizing up the man, Killian could tell he wouldn't be the problem. He was far too small to be any threat to Killian.
"One, that we decided we could all use a share of," a third said with a sinister grin. In the corner of Killian's eye, he spotted Leah scooting back to the shadows. He wished she wasn't there, but he had used her for this very moment and wasn't about to waste the opportunity.
"That so? And what makes ye think I'm goin' to roll over?" Killian asked as he watched the third man inch closer to Leah. The plan was set, the stakes raised, and Killian's muscles coiled as he prepared his next move.
"I was sort of hopin' ye wouldnae," the first kidnapper said as he pulled his sword from its sheath. "After all, tis nae every day ye get to claim to be the man who killed the Mad Laird."
"So, ye’re lookin' to build a name for yerself, is that it? Well then, what are we doin' talkin' about it? Go on then," Killian challenged as he beat his fist against his chest. "Let us see what sort of stuff ye’re made of. Because I promise ye, we're nae made the same."
Killian readied himself. A flinch, a twitch, that was all he was looking for to break the tension. It was the man standing beside Leah to trigger Killian's immediate response.
The first attacker didn't stand a chance as Killian met him head-on with only his hands as weapons.
The man, brandishing a knife, lunged. Killian ducked under the wild swing and landed a hard blow.
The man winced with pain as Killian landed a brutal strike that disarmed the man.
The blade clattered uselessly to the ground and rang in Killian's ears as he struck a decisive kill shot.
The attacker crumpled, lifeless, to the earth at Killian's feet.
"Erik," the second hissed as if he could speak him back to life.
"Yer friend is dead," Killian said, his voice thick with warning. "And if ye daenae want to join him, I suggest —"
The fury in the man's eyes burned hotter than the sun.
He lunged, and Killian was ready. With a mighty roar, the man came at Killian.
His blind rage was no match for Killian's controlled ferocity.
Their blades clashed and sparked on contact.
Killian fighting for Leah, the others fighting for survival.
It was a bitter rivalry that Killian couldn't afford to lose.
The sounds of their struggle echoed through the abandoned part of the village. Luckily for Killian, everyone was preoccupied with the fair to pay any heed to what was going on near the edge of the village.
"Ye're nae walkin' away from this," Killian warned. "Nay one takes what is mine. And the lass is mine."
"Me laird, please, we were put up to this," the third started blabbering, much to his cohorts' displeasure.
"Keep yer trap shut, Marcus, he doesnae need to ken anythin'," the man said as Killian took a swipe only to have the man duck before his fist made contact.
"But Vance, he's killed Eddie," Marcus said as Killian noticed the distraction in Vance's eyes.
It was just the opportunity Killian needed.
Killian's world narrowed as each move he made, he did with absolute calculation.
With a final powerful twist, Killian broke free and struck with a force that sent Vance falling back like a rag doll.
"Daenae kill me," Marcus cowered as Killian started for him.
"Get up," Killian ordered and pulled Marcus to his feet. The man whimpered like a coward before him. Just the mere sight of him grated on Killian's nerves. "Why did ye attack?"
"It was his idea," Marcus answered, pointing a trembling finger to the man passed out next to Leah.
"Killian, look out," Leah shouted, her warning coming in the nick of time. Killian turned his attention back to Marcus and grabbed the small dagger from Marcus's hand before he could lodge it in Killian's neck. Pulling Marcus's hand back, Killian forced the blade into Marcus's left arm.
"Yer last mistake," Killian hissed as he pulled his arm back and let it fly.
Marcus's head slammed against the stone wall, knocking him out cold.
Killian released his grip on Marcus and watched as his body slumped to the dirt.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, Killian was aware of the eyes on him. Slowly, he turned.
Leah's eyes were wide with fear, and the sight knocked the wind out of him.
Killian approached Leah with the caution of a man treading on fragile ice, knowing each step had to be deliberate and gentle.
Her wide eyes were fixed on him. He wasn't sure if he was happy to see them as vacant as they were.
It was the fact that they were so unreadable, as if her spirit had momentarily fled in the wake of chaos he had created.
He knelt beside her, his heart heavy with what she had witnessed.
"Leah," he murmured, reaching out to her as if she were a skittish deer poised to bolt.
Carefully, he lifted her from the ground, cradling her against his chest. Her silence was profound, her body tense and unyielding.
"I ken ye must be scared of me, but we cannae stay here.
I need to get Marcus to the dungeons and ye back to the inn. Can ye stand for me?"
Leah gave a small nod, her head bobbing in agreement, but her eyes never left his face.
It was their intensity that unnerved him the most. She reached her trembling hands up to him.
As slow and gentle as he could, he pulled her to her feet.
It took every ounce of his strength not to pull her to him, to cradle her and tell her everything would be all right.
But the fear radiating off her was enough to make him drop to his knees.
Never in a million years did he want her to see that side of him.