Chapter 28
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
The rain fell harder now, mingling with the mud and blood on the ground as Helena sat frozen, her hands trembling in her lap. She could barely see through the veil of tears clouding her vision. Every clash of steel, every grunt of pain from Alexander or her father, felt like a dagger to her chest.
“Helena.” Michael’s voice was soft but firm as he knelt beside her, his arm wrapping protectively around her shoulders. “Dinnae watch if it pains ye. Look away, lass.”
But she couldn’t. How could she look away when Alexander fought not just for himself, but for her? For the truth?
Her doe eyes, wide and brimming with anguish, stayed fixed on the battle before her.
Alexander’s sword swung in a sharp arc toward Chester’s chest, but her father dodged at the last moment, his injured leg slowing him just enough to stumble.
He retaliated with a desperate swing of his own, and she cried out when she saw the blade cut into Alexander’s shoulder.
“Nay!” she screamed, her voice hoarse.
Chester let out a dark, guttural laugh, his face twisted with cruel satisfaction. He turned his head toward her, rain dripping from his brow. “It’ll be over soon, lass,” he sneered. “Yer next husband will be the key to it all. Power. Money. Enough to crush the Gordons for good. Ye should thank me.”
Helena balled her fists at her sides, her nails biting into her palms as her entire body trembled.
“Thank ye?” she spat, her voice rising. “Ye expect me to thank ye for murderin’ me braither—yer son?
For killin’ me cousin—yer nephew? And for blamin’ it all on the Gordons? Ye’re nothin’ but a coward, a monster!”
Chester’s sneer deepened, but her words seemed to rattle him.
“Watch yer tongue, girl,” he barked, though his voice wavered. “I did what I had to do for the clan.”
“For the clan?” Helena choked out, her tears falling freely. “Ye did it for yerself. Yer greed. Yer pride. Ye sacrificed our family—our blood—for yer cursed power. And now ye want to destroy Alexander, to destroy me, too?”
Chester didn’t answer. Instead, he turned his attention back to Alexander, who had steadied himself, his sword raised despite the blood soaking his shirt. The two men circled each other again, their movements slower, more labored.
“Michael,” Helena whispered, her voice shaking. “Please, stop this. They’ll kill each other.”
Michael’s hand tightened on the hilt of his sword, but he shook his head. “Alexander made it clear, lass. He wants to end this himself. It’s his fight.”
Before she could protest, the sound of heavy footsteps drew her attention. She turned her head and froze as four men emerged from the trees, their soaked cloaks clinging to their broad shoulders. James was among them, his face grim as he strode toward the brawl.
“James,” Helena called, her voice cracking with relief.
James made to step forward, his hand on his sword, but Michael stopped him with a raised hand. “Nay,” he said firmly. “Alexander’s orders.”
James hesitated, his jaw tightening. “Ye’d let him die?”
Michael’s expression was unyielding. “Ye ken as well as I do that he’d never forgive us if we stepped in. He’ll finish it.”
Helena’s gaze shifted to the other three men. Her breath hitched when she recognized the largest among them. His face was weathered, his eyes dark with grief and anger. He had been Ian’s closest companion, loyal to him, and now, by extension, he was loyal to her.
He met her gaze, and without a word, she nodded. She saw the faintest flicker of acknowledgment in his eyes before he turned his attention back to the fight. He and his men wouldn’t harm them—a small comfort in all the chaos.
Alexander and Chester had lost their swords now, their weapons cast aside in the mud as they grappled like animals.
Fists flew, each strike accompanied by guttural grunts and snarls.
Chester’s age showed in his sluggish movements, but his rage burned bright.
Alexander, though younger and stronger, was bleeding heavily, his exhaustion evident in the way he staggered with each blow.
Helena couldn’t tear her eyes away, even as her stomach twisted with dread. She watched as Alexander managed to shove Chester back, rolling away to retrieve his sword from the mud. Chester did the same, his breathing ragged as he forced himself to his feet.
The sound of the rushing river grew louder in her ears, and she shivered from the cold rain and dampness.
“Alexander, please,” she whispered, her voice barely audible above the storm. “End this.”
As if hearing her plea, Alexander straightened, his grip tightening on his sword. Chester lunged forward with a feral cry, his blade aimed at Alexander’s chest. But he missed, his sword slicing through empty air as Alexander sidestepped at the last moment.
In one fluid motion, Alexander drove his blade forward, the steel piercing through Chester’s side.
Chester’s scream echoed through the forest, raw and filled with pain.
But before Alexander could move away, the slick ground beneath them gave way.
Both men toppled over, their feet slipping in the mud as they fell toward the rushing river.
“Alexander!” Helena screamed as she scrambled to her feet, slipping in the mud.
She sprinted toward them, but it was too late. Both men disappeared over the edge, swallowed by the rising rapids. The sound of the water crashing against the rocks drowned out everything else, leaving her standing frozen, her heart pounding in her chest.
Michael caught her arm as she swayed, steadying her. “Helena, stay back!” he said sharply.
She didn’t hear him. Her entire world had narrowed down to the river below, her mind racing with fear and disbelief.
“He’s gone,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “Alexander…”
James and the other men rushed to the edge of the river, their faces grim as they scanned the water. But there was no sign of either man, only the violent current as it carried them downstream.
Helena sank to her knees, her tears mixing with the rain as she clutched her chest. Michael knelt beside her once more, his hand resting gently on her shoulder.
“Helena,” he said softly.
“Find them! Downstream! Get the horses!” Helena ordered.
The five men stood there, speechless.
Helena’s heart ached with a pain she had never felt before, her mind filled with images of Alexander’s bloodied face, his determined eyes as he fought for her, for them.
And now he was gone, lost to the river that had swallowed both him and the man who had caused her so much pain.
The storm raged on, the wind howling through the trees as she stood defiantly, unwilling to give up just yet.
“I said, get the horses!”
The cold rain had soaked through her dress, the fabric clinging to her skin as she stood beside the riverbank, her chest rising and falling with determination. James and the other three men had gone to fetch the horses, but Michael remained by her side.
She wiped her tears, no longer willing to let despair take hold.
“We’ll find him,” she said firmly, her voice steady now. “He’s nae gone. I ken it.”
Michael stood silently nearby, his face pale and grim, his eyes fixed on the rushing water. His sword hung at his side, forgotten, as he leaned against a tree for support. When he turned to her, his expression softened.
“Helena,” he began, his voice hesitant. “Ye need to rest. Ye’re soaked through.” He shrugged off his heavy woolen jacket and held it out to her. “Take this, at least.”
She shook her head, her wet hair plastered to her face. “Nay, Michael. I dinnae need it. What I need is to find Alexander.” Her voice was sharp, unyielding, as she glared at him.
Michael frowned, lowering the jacket. “Ye cannae do this to yerself. Ridin’ through this storm, the cold—ye’ll make yerself ill.”
Helena stepped closer, her doe eyes fierce. “And what would ye have me do? Stand here and wring me hands like some helpless maid? I’ll nae stop until I find him, even if I have to swim to the sea!”
He opened his mouth, ready to argue, but her glare silenced him. He looked away, running a hand through his damp hair.
When he glanced back at her, his expression was strained. “Ye think I’m nae afraid?” he asked softly. “Ye think I dinnae care? He’s me braither, Helena. I cannae lose him.”
The defiance in her gaze faltered. She saw the raw pain on his face, the disbelief in his hazel eyes. For all his strength, Michael was hurting too.
Guilt tugged at her chest, and she reached out to touch his arm.
“We’ll find him,” she said gently, her voice steady and filled with resolve. “Alexander’s nae a man to succumb to a river. He’s strong. He’s comin’ back.”
Michael nodded after a moment, though his jaw remained tight.
He looked past her, scanning the river again. “Aye,” he said, though his voice lacked the conviction hers carried.
They didn’t have to wait for long before the sound of hoofbeats broke through the steady patter of the rain. Helena turned, her heart leaping as James and the others rode up to them, leading the rest of the horses.
James jumped down from his horse and handed her the reins of her mare.
“Me Lady,” he said quickly, “the horses are ready. We’ll head down the banks and search every inch. We’ll find him.”
She wasted no time. Pulling herself into the saddle, she nodded to the others. “James, ye ride ahead. The rest of us will scatter, a few minutes apart. I want every inch of the riverbank searched. Leave nay stone unturned.”
James gave a quick nod and spurred his horse into a gallop, heading down the muddy riverbank.
Helena turned to Michael, who was mounting his horse.
He paused, looking at her. “The river’s too high to see much from one side,” he said. “There’s a crossin’ nae far from here, near the ruin. I’ll ride to the other bank with John. We’ll cover that side.”
Helena hesitated, her gaze flickering to the burly man who had been her cousin’s close friend.
John nodded grimly, already urging his horse to follow Michael.
“Do it,” she said finally, her voice clipped. “Be thorough.”
With that, Michael and John rode off, leaving Helena with the last rider. The man, whose broad shoulders and heavy build made him tower over her even in the saddle, hesitated, his dark eyes filled with guilt.
“I’m sorry, lass,” he said, his voice low. “If I’d kenned… If I’d kenned what yer faither had done to yer cousin and braither, I would’ve stopped him. I’d have protected them. Protected ye.”
Helena met his gaze. “It’s too late for that now. What’s done is done. Ye can only honor them by seein’ the truth and doin’ what’s right.”
The man nodded solemnly.
She gestured for him to go. “Ride ahead. Check the banks thoroughly. I’ll follow after ye.”
He hesitated for a moment before obeying, spurring his horse into a slow trot along the muddy bank.
Helena waited, her hands gripping the reins as the rain continued to pour. She sat in silence, the babbling of the river roaring in her ears. Her stomach twisted, her mind racing with every possible scenario.
She wouldn’t let herself doubt. Not for a moment. Alexander was alive—he had to be. She refused to entertain the thought of losing him, of returning to the castle without him.
After a few minutes, she nudged her horse forward, following the trail left by the others. She scanned every inch of the riverbank, her sharp eyes searching the mud and tall grass for any sign of him. She called out his name occasionally, her voice hoarse and strained.
“Alexander!”
The only answer was the rush of the river and the occasional cry of a bird overhead. Her heart clenched tighter with every passing moment.
The ride stretched on endlessly, the storm letting up into a mist. Helena’s determination never wavered, but her chest grew heavy as the river began to calm, the rapids easing into slower, swirling waters. She knew she must be nearing the next crossing.
As she approached, she spotted James waiting with his horse. The sight of his disheartened expression made her stomach drop. Her mare slowed down as she drew closer, the sound of her hooves muffled by the rain-soaked earth.
James stepped forward, his head shaking slightly. “Me Lady,” he began, his voice strained.
Helena’s breath caught in her throat. She clenched the reins tightly, willing herself not to break. Not yet.
“Dinnae say it,” she said, her voice sharp. “We havenae finished searchin’.”
James’s shoulders slumped. The weight of his silence was suffocating, and Helena’s heart threatened to shatter.
She lifted her chin, her doe eyes blazing.
“We’ll find him,” she insisted, her voice unwavering. “We will.”