Chapter 27
POV: Sorcha
Tears blurred my vision, not from Callum’s rough shove to get me out of the way, but from the two little chicks crumpled on the ground. The Don had just crushed the life out of the second one, its final squeak still ringing in my ears.
I had known something was wrong when I saw the door standing open, and Callum moved to block me. He had closed it before we left for the restaurant—I remembered hearing the sound of the latch.
Before ducking under his arm, I snatched something from his forge, unseen by either of them.
They slammed into each other, hard, boots scraping, fists cracking against bone. I stayed back, pressed against the wall, and slowly inched toward Mabel.
When the Don’s fist caught Callum in the ribs, my heart seized so tight I could hardly breathe.
The weight of the hammer steadied me. I tightened my grip, the handle worn smooth from years of Callum’s hands.
They circled and struck, Callum taunting, the Don snarling, and all I could do was hold still, every muscle screaming to act while I waited for my moment.
They crashed through the backyard, every hit Callum took slicing through me like a knife. I couldn’t help but think—this was what it must’ve been like for him in the pit. Blood flying, no one to stop it, just the roar of a crowd hungry for more.
I’d been on the receiving end of violence and couldn’t understand why people were so bloodthirsty. The thought chilled me even as I watched him move with practiced ease, his body remembering every brutal match.
But the Don moved the same way—every bit as hardened, every strike meant to break. Both men took blows that would’ve dropped another, yet neither went down. How long could this go on?
Then the Don went crashing through the chicks’ little enclosure, wood splintering, straw scattering across the ground. My shout went unheard by anyone but Mabel, who was getting more and more restless, snorting and stamping.
I pressed to her flank, stroking hard, whispering, “Easy, girl, easy now,” though my other hand clamped even tighter around the hammer.
Callum caught him clean then, his boot slamming into the Don’s chest, sending him flying. He hit the ground and rolled to a stop at my feet, stunned, rage still burning in his eyes.
A thousand thoughts tore through me as time slowed, my heartbeat thundering in my ears. This was my chance—to end it, to make sure Callum would never have to fight again. I didn’t care what price I’d pay, so long as he was safe.
In that moment, I knew—I loved him.
My breath came jagged as I lifted the hammer and swung with everything I had.
But the Don rolled, fast as a snake, and my strike caught his shoulder instead of his head. His eyes snapped to mine, wild and cruel, and in that moment, I knew real fear.
I screamed and raised the hammer again, ready to bring it down, but before I could, Mabel went crazy.
She reared up, hooves slashing the air, her shriek splitting the yard.
I stumbled back, clutching the hammer tight, trying not to be knocked aside as she came down hard, her hooves tearing clods of grass from the earth.
She didn’t stop. Panic had her now—foam flecking her mouth, eyes rolling white, muscles straining under her hide.
With another scream, she bolted straight through the lean-to, the wooden frame exploding around her, boards and splinters raining across the grass.
The crash thundered through me, drowning out everything else.
I threw up my arm as planks of wood rained down, pinning me beneath them, and all I could do was watch what unfolded before my eyes.
The Don tried to rise in the chaos, his hand clawing at the ground, his face twisted with rage. But Mabel was faster. She came down on him with all her weight, hooves pounding into his head and chest.
The sound was sickening—a dull crack that made my stomach lurch even as relief surged hot and fierce through me. He collapsed under her, limp in the grass.
Mabel didn’t stop, this time crashing straight through the back gate. The posts splintered and gave way, and then she was gone, galloping into the open, leaving only wreckage and silence behind her.
For a heartbeat, everything hung suspended—and then Callum was there, frantically tearing planks off me. My foot, caught fast under the crossbeam, refused to budge.
He cursed under his breath, ripping at the wreckage with bloodied hands, shoving splinters aside as though they weighed nothing. His chest heaved, every muscle straining, his eyes wild with fear.
“Hold on,” he rasped, voice raw, as he wedged his shoulder beneath the beam. With a roar, he heaved upward, brute strength surging through him, the wood groaning before it lifted just enough for me to pull my foot out.
And then I was in his arms, pulled tight against him. Even though the berserker still flickered in his eyes, Callum was gentle, his hands moving over me, checking every inch to make sure I was whole. His breath was ragged, hot against my hair, but his touch was careful, almost trembling.
I lifted my own hands to him, needing to see for myself. A dark bruise was already spreading across his cheek, angry and swollen, and his ear was torn and bleeding. My chest clenched at the sight, and I brushed my thumb there as though I could wipe the hurt away.
“You’re worse off than me,” I whispered.
“I’m fine,” he croaked, his voice hoarse.
I peeked over his shoulder at The Don and immediately heaved when I saw the sight.
“Don’t look,” Callum reprimanded me.
“Are there any chicks alive?” I warbled, overcome by emotion, and still seeing The Don’s caved-in head in my mind.
I wiggled out of his grasp, fell to my knees, and retched until it was only bile. Callum knelt beside me, his hand warm on my back.
Crawling to the enclosure, I lifted the planks, hoping the other two chicks were saved somehow.
“No,” I sobbed when I saw a plank had crushed one.
But then I saw movement and hurried to pick up one little survivor. It didn’t come through the ordeal unscathed—its tiny wing was hurt—but I pressed it gently to my heart, Callum’s arms folding around me.”
“This little one survived,” I swallowed my tears. “I’m going to call it Hera, like in the book.”
“That’s a great name,” Callum said, kissing my cheek. “Let’s go inside. This little one can live in the basket for now.”
“Mabel?”
“I’ll find her. I need to report this first.”
“Wait, let me put that ointment…”
Callum was already shaking his head, and I trailed off.
“It burns like fire, and I’d rather go without.”
Oh, he never even winced when I applied it before.
Leading me into the lounge, he knelt before me and checked the ankle that had been caught under the beam.
“I’m fine.”
He hadn’t mentioned the hammer, but I had a feeling he would scold me for it sooner or later.
“You don’t look angry anymore,” I ventured.
Our eyes met.
“I want to put you over my knee for running straight into danger, but I’m so thankful you’re okay that I can’t decide whether to scold you or never let you out of my sight again.”