As I was about to untie her, I saw two riders returning to the claim. One was Warren. I could’ve released her and rode back to Cedric, but not without being seen. There was no way I’d be able to retrieve him before we were caught. And I wasn’t going to ride off without him. Out of options, I dove back into the shanty.
With the skillet in one hand and my dagger in the other, I waited by the door, certain someone would be coming for me. One of Warren’s men entered, and I swung the skillet hard over his head, catching him unawares. He fought against me briefly before passing out, knocking my knife out of my hand in the process. Before I could recover it, Warren appeared in the doorway with a gun pointed at me.
“Drop the skillet,” he said.
I did, slowly raising my hands up. He shut the door and stepped over his fallen man, nodding at me to back up against the wall. “Why are you doing this?” I asked. “Was this really to get revenge on me?”
“Not on you, exactly,” he said. There was a cold, dispassionate tone in his voice, so different from the guileless enthusiasm he’d displayed in Cape Triumph. “Mostly on him. I told you before I was straightforward and go after what I want directly. I wanted you. He took you, so the plan was to eliminate him and then, when your grief eventually subsided, take you back. But then two things happened. Three, actually.”
“Your attempts to kill him didn’t work?” I guessed. As I spoke, my eyes darted around, looking frantically for some weapon or escape. That gun definitely put the odds in his favor. If it was a newer one, it could have two shots in it.
“Yes, actually,” admitted Warren. “And then, this seemingly useless gold claim turned out not to be so useless after all. Not that it would matter in the end—once he’s dead, it reverts back to my full ownership. But it did mean he might have had a chance to pay off his debt early.”
My knife was the closest weapon to me, but even so, I’d never reach it in time. “What was the third?” I asked, needing to keep him distracted.
He sighed melodramatically. “You found out what was happening. This was all supposed to end with you willingly back where you belong—with me. But something tells me that’s pretty unlikely at this point.”
My only answer was a glare.
“And so,” he said, “it seems you and the unfortunate Mister Thorn will both have died at the hands of vicious claim bandits. But at least I won’t feel like I’m leaving empty-handed before you die.”
Hope surged in me as I realized he didn’t know Cedric was gone. Then, those last words struck me. “What . . . what do you mean?”
Warren gestured casually at the table with his gun. “I’ve been in houses of ill repute. I know what cinnamon thorn smells like. And I know what kind of girls drink it. So much for all your fine talk about staying virtuous until your wedding night. But—I guess it means I don’t have to feel guilty about taking anything of value, seeing as it’s so freely offered.”
He set the gun down on the table but moved too quickly for me to take advantage of the reprieve. He threw himself on me, knocking me to the floor and pinning his body over mine. I balled my fists and tried striking at his chest. When I realized that wouldn’t work, I started poking at his eyes. He cursed and held my hands down with his.
“You were more docile back at the balls,” he said. “Prettier too. Cleaner.”
He tried holding both my wrists with one hand so that his other could grapple with my clothing. He managed to tear the blouse and then move down to my skirt just before I broke my hands free. He couldn’t hold them both one-handed, and he knew it. I clawed at his face again, and frustration replaced the earlier confidence.
“Damn it.” He grabbed hold of me and rolled us over so that I lay on my stomach. “Less refined it is.”
Positioned like this, with his body keeping me facedown, I couldn’t so easily attack or even shift around. He kept one hand on my head to keep it down and began pulling at the skirt again. I called him names that would have made Tamsin blush and struggled as much as I could, knowing it wouldn’t save me but would at least make it more difficult for him. Then, I caught sight of what this new position had brought me closer to.
The Alanzan dagger was within my reach.
Without a second thought, I grabbed it and swung backward, not caring what I struck so long as it was him. Warren screamed and fell off me. I immediately scrambled away and made it to my feet with shaking legs. He lay there on the floor, clutching at his leg, which had my knife embedded in his thigh. It wasn’t a killing blow, but it had bought me my escape. I moved toward the door, only to have it open from the outside. I braced myself for one of his men and instead came face to face with Silas Garrett. He wielded a gun and looked as surprised to see me as I was him.
“Arrest her!” Warren shouted. “I came to inspect this claim, and that bitch attacked me! She stabbed me—stabbed me with this—” He pointed down and gaped as he got a good look at the knife with its tree design. “With this blade—this pagan blade! It’s an Alanzan knife! She’s a heretic—arrest her!”
“It . . . it’s not hers,” a voice behind Silas said. “It’s mine. I’m the Alanzan.”
Silas stepped aside, revealing Cedric leaning on Sully. I couldn’t believe Cedric was even conscious after all his injuries. I wanted to run to him and order him to lie down, but Warren was still on the offensive. “He’d say anything to protect his whore.”