I heard shouts of triumph, a voice yelling, “We got the Black cove,” and knew Weatherly had been found. Dear God. I bunched my gown higher, but holding it up hampered my stride, the hem snagging on a shrub. I staggered and wrenched it free. Too many seconds lost. He was gaining on me—hard breathing, the thud of feet, branches snapping. I ducked down and dug my fingernails into the forest floor, scraping up a handful of damp dirt. Keep moving. Keep running.

“Where are you, bitch?”

So close. Only a dense thicket of hazel and gorse between us. I stopped and held my breath, tucking in my chin to hide the pale giveaway of my skin.

“I told you what would happen if you followed me,” he said, his voice a caressing singsong that sent a chill across my skin. By the crack of twigs and the sound of his breathing, he was walking to the edge of the thicket. If he turned my way, he would see me.

Another step. The crunch of dried leaves. The smell of earth in my hand.

And then I saw his huge body, his teeth bared in predatory delight. “Got you.”

He lunged. I threw the dirt, hard, enough of it hitting his face in a blinding spread. He reeled back, but not far enough, his hand grabbing the skirt of my habit as I turned to run, his weight and strength dragging me backward. Frantically, I twisted, punching at his face as he coughed, but he caught my wrist. I tried to wrench it free from his grasp, but he was too strong. I swung my other hand, fingers clawed to scratch, but his fist was faster, heavier. The pain of the punch exploded into my eyes, a burst of white agony that ripped away my breath and jagged through my head.

I buckled, falling, my momentum stopped by tight arms around my ribs. He hauled me upright, pinning me against his chest. My hands locked against my pounding heart, the smell of his sour, unwashed body thick in my throat.

“Now then,” he said against my ear, his breath hot and fetid. “Let’s see how brave you really are.”

43

I struggled against his tight hold, but he hooked his forearm around my throat, tightening the choke until I could barely breathe. The woods around me grayed into an air-starved blur as he half carried, half dragged me back to the clearing. I had not run as far from it as I had thought.

He dumped me on the grass in the middle of the circle of men. I gasped for air—hauling it into my aching lungs—then pushed myself upright, blinking to clear my sight, my jaw throbbing at the same rapid beat as my heart.