Page 16 of A Raven Revived (The Raven’s Den #4)

Chapter Sixteen

S adness settled over Daisy as she followed Samantha to the dining hall for breakfast. She felt like a failure. Like she had given up and let them win. But it was so nice to be warm. She berated herself. You’re pathetic. How can you be so weak? This wasn’t a vacation, after all. She could not let them defeat her.

She carried her porridge and apple to the table and sat down to eat. This would give her the strength she needed to fight, and to find a way out of this horrible place.

She savored every minute of fresh air as she made her three laps around the yard, knowing it might be her last, at least for a while. One way or another, it was time to fight again. With one last lungful, she followed Samantha back inside to return to their cell.

As they approached the main area, however, it was just the two of them, and no one else was around. This was her chance. She knew what would happen if she failed, but she had to try. When they neared, she bolted down the passageway to the front door.

Her body was still weak and slow as she ran, but the door was in sight, so she pushed herself harder. She wrenched on the knob, but it wouldn’t budge. Of course, it was locked. She’d known it would be, but there had to be a way. She tugged again, the skin on her palms burning with her effort. Frantically, she looked around. There had to be a key, or another way. There was a small portal in the middle of the door.

She flipped the latch and jerked it open before screaming desperately through it. “Help! Someone help me! Fitz!”

Two sets of hands clamped onto her arms and dragged her away.

“No!” she wailed. They might be stronger than her, but she wasn’t going down without a fight.

She whirled around and kicked out, her foot catching one of them in the stomach. He grunted and she pulled her arm from his grasp. Turning back, she lurched for the door. The man’s hand came down hard against her backside, the sting jarring a squeal from her.

“Harlan!”

All three of them stopped moving at the commanding shout.

“She kicked me.”

Dr. Mickelson looked angry. Something she’d never seen from him before, not even when she’d spilled milk all over him. But his anger didn’t seem to be directed at her as his gaze bored into the man who had hit her. Were there rules against that? It seemed strange, given the other abuse she’d endured.

“Get her into the tub.”

“No,” she bawled. “Please just let me go.”

He didn’t say a word as they dragged her past him, but he looked disappointed.

She was plunged roughly into the cold water, and he eventually came to stand at the foot of the tub.

“Did you not enjoy the time away from your cell and being outside in the sun?”

“I did,” she said through shaking breaths. She cursed the tears that ran down her face.

He sighed and shook his head. “Well, you’ve lost that privilege now. You'll have to earn it back with good behavior.”

She nodded, her whole body trembling and burning. “I’m sorry. Please let me out.”

“Are you going to cooperate?”

She gave a jerky nod and at his gesture, they pulled her out of the tub and placed her on her feet. Her knees nearly buckled, but she locked them tight.

Dr. Mickelson stepped in front of her. “Any failure to comply, and you’re going straight back in there. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes.” She struggled to even get the single word out through her chattering teeth.

“Lift your arms.”

Even after all these times, it was still so hard to obey, but knowing what would happen if she refused, she followed his command and they pulled the wet gown over her head. Sobs made her body heave as she wiped herself with the towel. She had failed.

This time, after she was dry and had a fresh gown slipped over her head, they didn’t immediately drag her away.

“Hold your arms out in front of you.”

Alarm filled her as she raised her arms. This was something new. What were they going to do to her?

They slipped some kind of heavy garment over her outstretched arms.

“What is this?” Dread settled over her. The fabric pulled tight and she heard one buckle after another being fastened behind her back.

“We call it the jacket,” Dr. Mickelson said simply.

Oh God, Samantha had mentioned it. “You don’t have to do this. I’ll behave. I swear. Please don’t do this.”

“You’ll have to earn your way out of it, Jane. Begging won’t work.”

Each of the other men grabbed a strap that connected to the end of the closed sleeves. They pulled them roughly behind her back, forcing her arms across her body. She couldn’t move them, and panic like she’d never felt burst through her. “No!” she shouted, tugging pointlessly. Trapped, she arched her back and tumbled onto the floor, flopping about like a fish and screaming incoherently, her arms pinned to the front of her.

“Let me out. Please!”

Pain burned in her hip and dizziness settled over her, her body suddenly heavy. He’d injected her again. In that moment, she welcomed the blessed darkness she knew was coming. At least there, she'd no longer be afraid.

* * *

They traveled toward Daisy’s family home as an impressive procession of carriages and horses. This was one reason it had taken an extra day. Carriages had to be driven from their estates. Ash insisted that the show of strength would be more likely to get them what they wanted. Anderson had stayed behind to work on finding any possible legal solutions, and Giles to take care of the club.

Lord Epworth, Patrick’s Marquess brother had been visiting him and had also volunteered to come along. Even Fitz was intimidated by their group, and he came from a powerful family, himself.

Ash leaned against the wall of the carriage, his eyes closed. He’d probably gotten even less sleep than Fitz, since he’d been up all night at The Raven’s Den. Fitz felt utterly useless. He hadn’t been able to help with that, or providing manpower, or anything else. But, despite the self-loathing and guilt, he was infinitely grateful for the help.

They stopped shortly before arriving at the property and gathered as a convocation. Ash immediately took charge.

“Are you sure you really want to be a part of this, Epworth?” Ash asked.

“An opportunity to use the weight of my title against a bully? I’m looking forward to it.”

“It could become less than civilized,” Ash warned.

Lord Epworth merely shrugged.

“He might be pompous,” Patrick said. “But he knows how to throw a punch.”

Ash checked to make sure everyone knew the plan. “Well then, gentlemen, let’s go get our Daisy back.”

Fitz climbed back into Ash’s carriage. He was exceedingly grateful that Ash had taken command of the whole situation. He seemed to be a born leader, which Fitz was not. He was lucky to have these men on his side. Even still, his pulse accelerated as they rolled to a stop before the large house. What if they were wrong? What if her father really didn’t know where she was? Or what if he just refused to tell them? Gathering his wits, he said a silent prayer and stepped down from the carriage.

The butler’s eyes widened as he looked at all of their cards and the line of carriages. He immediately opened the door and invited them in, until Fitz appeared at the back.

The man sputtered a bit, trying to find his voice, but before he could speak up, Michael, who was the largest of their group, stepped in front of him.

“He’s with us. Will that be a problem?” His voice was quiet, but the challenge was clear.

“No, my lord.” The butler shook his head and led them all to a large drawing room.

Barely a moment passed before Lord Litchfield appeared. He wasn’t nearly as nonchalant as he’d been when it was just Fitz. Ash, on the other hand, had already settled himself comfortably on the sofa, and the others all stood around the room at their ease, as if this was simply a social call.

“Good afternoon, gentlemen. What can I offer you to drink?”

Ash spoke first, but they all turned to face Litchfield.

“Drinks won’t be necessary, Litchfield. We’re here for Daisy.”

He didn’t correct Ash, but he looked around at every face, a slight sneer growing as his gaze fell on Fitz. “She isn’t here, I’m afraid. She seems to have a habit of running away.”

Ash picked a piece of lint from his trouser leg. “We can do this the easy way or the hard way, Litchfield. I think you’d probably prefer the easy way.”

“Are you threatening me, Ashdown?”

Patrick took a step forward then. “We most certainly are.”

Litchfield seemed to be weighing his options. “I don’t tolerate threats in my own home. Not even from exalted company such as yourselves.” He walked over and rang for a servant.

“Your footmen won’t be coming,” Ash said quietly.

The man’s brow furrowed and his agitation became more apparent. “What have you done?”

“We didn’t come alone,” Ash said simply. There was something terrifying about just how calm all of these men were. Especially Ash. Fitz’s heart was trying to beat its way out of his chest. Obviously, they’d done this kind of thing before, but he certainly hadn’t.

Patrick and Michael both took a step closer to Litchfield, to make it clear that they weren’t bluffing.

“Where did you send her?” Ash asked.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He turned and tried to leave, but Patrick and Michael each grabbed one of his arms and dragged him back to the middle of the room.

“Take your hands off me,” he demanded, struggling against them.

Ash got to his feet with a bored sigh. “Hard way it is, I guess.” He slowly removed his coat and laid it neatly over the arm of the sofa, resting his cane against it, as if they had all the time in the world.

“What are you doing?” The pitch of Litchfield’s voice was climbing as panic set in. “She is my daughter, and this is none of your business.”

Ash sauntered to stand before him. “Where is she?” He spoke as if he was asking something as mundane as the time.

“I don’t know,” Litchfield insisted.

Ash slammed a fist into the man’s stomach. He grunted loudly, coughing and sputtering. “Where is she?” he asked again.

When Litchfield just shook his head, he delivered a punch to the other side of his stomach.

“Where is she?” Ash’s voice was still eerily calm.

Litchfield nodded frantically, trying to catch his breath. “Alright. I sent her away. She’s not well and needs help.”

Ash’s eyes narrowed slightly and a muscle ticked beside the left one. The only sign that he was actually angry, but Fitz knew he was infuriated. He drove his fist into Litchfield’s stomach another time.

“Where is she?”

The man coughed and groaned. “Auburn Ridge,” he managed through panting breaths.

Fitz’s stomach dropped at the words. She really was in an asylum. God help her, but at least that meant she was alive.

“There now, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” Ash looked over at Fitz and gestured toward Litchfield with a nod. Fitz stripped off his coat and threw it onto a chair before marching across the room. He slammed his fist into the man’s stomach twice, in quick succession.

He leaned in, his face just inches from Litchfield’s. “You’d better hope they’ve been treating her well.” He threw one more punch, this one into the man’s face. “That’s for the one you gave your wife.” He turned and picked up his coat. The sooner they left there, the sooner they could get to Daisy.

“I’m sure this goes without saying,” Lord Epworth said behind him. “But if you utter a word about any of what has happened here tonight, Litchfield, I will personally see to it that your reputation is destroyed.”

He heard the man collapse and then heavy footfalls as the others followed him from the room. One of the security men gave a sharp whistle, and they all loaded into the carriages once more.

“Do we know where Auburn Ridge is?” Fitz asked Ash once they were moving.

He nodded, but he didn’t look very happy about it. “It’s about four hours from here.”

The small amount of hope he’d gained vanished at the news. They didn’t have four hours of light left. Fitz let out a defeated sigh. How had he allowed this to happen?

“Don’t worry. We’re going to stop and reorganize a bit; we don’t need this many carriages for the next part, but we’re still going there tonight.”