Chapter 1
CHAPTER ONE
The forest stretched vast and silent before Aidan.
Home. This should be peaceful.
It should have been, but Aidan's instincts had kept him uneasy all morning.
He couldn't shake the feeling of eyes on him—watchful, patient, waiting for the right moment to strike. He didn't like feeling like the prey. He was the hunter. He glanced around the dense foliage; the Highlands had a way of cloaking danger in stillness.
There’s a wrongness in the forest this day.
An out-of-place crunch, nearly imperceptible, caught his attention.
Immediately he raised a hand to signal Connor, his man at arms, who stilled beside him.
Connor's gaze scanned the forest around them.
It didn't take long for the forest to break its silence.
Aidan's gaze snapped to the left of him where a figure emerged from behind a gnarled oak stepping out like a shadow born from the mist.
Aidan's eyes narrowed and he took in the man's familiar sharp features, the hatred glinting in the man's eyes.
Keir McDonald.
Aidan had not seen him in years. Hadn't seen him since the blood-soaked battlefield where Aidan had taken the life of Keir's father. Judging by the murderous look in his eyes, Keir had not forgotten.
"Look who I've happened upon," Keir sneered.
"Ye've made a mistake comin' out here to find me," Aidan said, his voice low, every word a blade between them.
Keir's lips curled upward, and he rested his hand on the hilt of his sword as his men stepped out from the cover of the trees flanking him. Five men in total. Armed and waiting. Their eyes flicked between Keir and Aidan. Aidan's grip tightened on his sword. Anger waking in his chest.
"Nay, Aidan," Keir spat, "Ye're the one who made a mistake the day ye killed me faither."
Aidan didn't flinch, though he felt a pang in his heart as Keir's voice broke on the word faither. Aidan had killed his own faither, too. Maybe he truly was the monster they'd all claimed him to be. Aidan straightened.
"It was war, Keir," he replied, his tone unyielding, though there was a flicker of regret in his eyes. "Yer faither kent what he was gettin' into, same as we all did."
"But ye struck the blow," Keir said, his voice trembling with rage. "Ye're the reason he's gone, the reason I've got nay kin left. And now… now I'll take from ye. It's only fair."
Without another moment's hesitation, Keir let out a guttural cry and lunged.
His blade merely a flash of steel as it sliced through the misty morning air.
Aidan moved instinctively. Years of battle had trained him for this, his sword meeting Keir's with a resounding clash.
The world narrowed. The forest faded into a backdrop of green and gray as he focused on Keir.
Aidan fought like a man who'd survived a thousand battles. His father had made sure he knew how to fight. Even if it had been his own undoing in the end. Aidan hadn't wanted to be a warrior, not wholly, but in times like these, he was more than grateful for his expertise.
He was the monster of the McLaughlins, for better or worse. He'd earned his reputation.
Keir fought like a man possessed. Possessed by wrath and his unwavering drive for vengeance. Perhaps even possessed by the love he'd had for his father. Aidan knew Keir would not back down unless he'd given him good reason to.
Their swords locked, and for a brief moment, they stood chest to chest, each man's breath harsh in the other's face. Aidan jumped to the right as one of Keir's men slashed at him, narrowly dodging the blow.
"He's mine," Keir hissed.
"I didnae take ye for a romantic," Aidan smirked, wielding his sword for another blow.
"Ye'll never ken peace, Aidan," Keir hissed, his eyes gleaming with vengeful fire. "Nae while I draw breath."
"Then I'll take that breath from ye," Aidan snarled, shoving Keir back and launching into a flurry of blows.
As Aidan fought, he was acutely aware of Connor, who was now battling three men, his sword flashing as he deflected blow after blow. Blood spattered the earth beneath them. Two of Keir's men were guards blocking Aidan from getting closer to Connor.
Curse it all!
A burst of pain radiated through him. With gritted teeth, Aidan spared a brief glance at the blood seeping into his shirt. The pain was a familiar companion, and he would endure it with pride if it meant keeping Keir at bay.
Connor shouted, and Aidan noticed him falter in the corner of his vision.
One of the attackers broke through his defenses.
Aidan's heart thundered, and he twisted his sword with renewed fury, slashing at Keir with a newfound force born of desperation.
Keir's face twisted into a wicked smile, his gaze flickering toward Connor.
"Look at him, Aidan," Keir taunted. "Ye've led him to his end, just as ye led me faither to his. How does it feel?"
Aidan's fury flared blindingly and hot like iron in the forge. He threw every ounce of strength he had into his strikes, his sword a blur as it clashed with Keir's. Yet Keir was quick, deflecting the blows with a deftness. He was better than the last time Aidan had seen him in battle.
Ye've been honin' yer skills.
Aidan saw too late in the chaos as Keir maneuvered with haste aiming a deadly strike directly at his heart.
Time slowed, the world narrowing to the lethal arc of Keir's blade descending upon him.
But then, just as quickly, Connor was there, a flash of movement between Aidan and death.
Connor's body jerked as the blade found him.
Instead, his face contorted in pain, yet defiant and proud even as blood blossomed across his tunic.
"Nay!" Aidan roared, his heart thundering in his chest, catching Connor as he stumbled.
Lowering him gently to the ground before taking up his sword once again.
The sight of his friend wounded, his loyal friend who'd stood by him through every hardship, sent a wave of rage crashing over him.
He turned on Keir, his eyes cold and deadly, his grip tightening on his sword until his knuckles whitened.
Keir laughed, a hollow mocking sound. But in his eyes, behind the mockery, Aidan saw fear, the same fear he'd seen in many men just before he'd killed them on the battlefield.
"Look what ye've done, Aidan," he said, stepping back into the forest's shadows. "This is on ye, and it is only the beginnin'. Ye'll always bring ruin to those closest to ye."
Aidan took a step forward, murder in his eyes, but Keir was already retreating.
I cannae leave Connor.
He resolved as Keir disappeared into the mist with his remaining men like phantoms. His laughter fading into the distance.
Breathless, Aidan dared not waste another moment. He knelt beside Connor pressing his hand against the wound to stem the bleeding. "Hang on, Connor," he said, his voice hoarse. "Ye're goin' to make it. I'll get ye back to the stronghold."
Connor was pale as snow. His breath was shallow, but he managed a strained, pained grin. "Didnae think ye'd let me die in a place like this… surrounded by trees instead of ale," he rasped.
Aidan forced a grim smile as his mind raced. "Ye're nae dyin'. Nae here, nae now." He looked around, the forest closing in on him. With a surge of strength, he lifted Connor, steadying him as he stumbled, and they began the trek back through the forest. This was not over.
The mist hung thick and unforgiving around them as they moved through the darkening woods. It was far too early for nightfall. Aidan knew one thing with certainty. A storm was brewing, and it was coming fast.
He scanned his surroundings, trying to orient himself once more. He knew these woods well.
There's nay way I can get Connor to town in time durin' a rain storm.
His heart ached as if the blade had pierced his own chest. Overwhelming fear gripped him like the first few icy raindrops falling from the darkened sky. He needed to find cover, and fast.
The rain began to pour harder, a relentless drumming that drowned out every other sound of the forest. Aidan pressed against the damp cave wall, watching Connor's face pale even further, in the glow of the low-burning embers of Aidan's small fire.
Pain tore through his body like a blade heated in the forge but he forced it aside. There was no point in both being brought low—not when Connor's life hung in the balance. He'd endured worse on the battlefield, pressing forward with wounds that would fell lesser men. This was no different.
His friend's breaths were shallow, his eyes closed, and though Aidan had bound the wound as best he could, Connor's blood continued to seep through the makeshift bandage, pooling darkly beneath him.
Why did I nae learn how to heal battle wounds?
Aidan's heart pounded, the weight of his failure gnawing at him.
This isnae enough. He's still bleedin'… slippin' away.
And there, as he sat helplessly in the dim, damp cave. He realized he might lose his closest friend right here, someone he considered a brother, and there was no one who could hear him call for help.
Then Connor's eyes flew open, and his voice was a faint rasp, barely louder than the rain. "Aidan…"
Aidan leaned forward, gripping his friend's shoulder. "Aye, Connor? Just hang on—tomorrow, we'll return to the stronghold." Even he didn't believe himself.
Connor only shook his head. His gaze drifted toward the darkness beyond the cave. "Ye're goin' to have to finish what ye started. If Keir's after ye… He willnae stop until—" His voice faltered, his words fading as his eyes drifted shut again, his body going limp.
"Connor?" Aidan whispered, scrambling toward his friend as a chill slid down his spine. "Connor, stay with me."
But there was no answer, only the relentless rain outside, echoing in the cave like a death knell. Aidan felt a cold realization settle over him—alone, injured, and hidden in the dark,
Connor's heart is still beatin', but for how long?