Page 20 of Taming the Eagle

Her lungs started to burn, her legs protesting—yet she pushed herself.

Speed was the only thing that would save her.

The roar of angry male voices echoed off stone, and the thunder of running feet closing in behind warned her that the Eagle would now be in pursuit.

Entering the straight street, her feet flew over the stone pavers.

She nearly collided with a cart filled with turds, towed by two men. Dodging them just in time, and ducking out of reach as one of the men lunged for her, Fenella kept her gaze focused ahead.

As she’d anticipated, the gates were still open. Daylight yawned beyond.

Freedom.

However, she was just a few yards from reaching the gates when someone barreled into her from behind.

Fenella sprawled, her knees colliding with hard stone. She bit her tongue and tasted blood. Twisting free, she scrambled to her feet—only to be shoved down once more.

Twisting around in her assailant’s grip, she brought her knee sharply up, slamming it into his belly.

Aquila reared over her, his face hard, his cheekbones flushed. He grunted at the blow but didn’t ease his hold on her shoulders.

“Let me go!” Fenella screeched, raking her nails down his cheek.

“There’s nowhere to run, Fenella,” he bit out, as she struggled under him. “Even if you made it out of the gates, we’d catch you.”

“A plague on you,” she snarled back. “I hope your cods rot!”

There was no getting out of his iron grip, but that didn’t mean that Fenella wasn’t going to fight him with everything she had.

With a curse of his own, Aquila flipped her over onto her front once more. He held her down with his knee in the small of her back, one hand keeping her wrists pinned.

Fenella bucked under him, screaming more insults, while he bound her wrists. Cheek pressed against the stones, tears of fury pouring down her face, she struggled hard.

“Enough of this, woman,” Aquila snapped. “You’ll only do yourself an injury.”

“Kill me!” she sobbed. “My life isn’t worth anything now! I’d rather be dead than a Roman slave!”

It was true. Toutorix had stripped her of all honor in the instant he’d given her to the enemy. One by one, the men in her life had betrayed her. Only humiliation and pain awaited her here.

She really would be better off dead.

Jaw clenched, Justin yanked his slave to her feet. He then turned her around and marched her back toward the center of the fort.

Of course, they’d drawn a crowd—how could they not? It wasn’t every day his men saw a Picti woman racing through the fort, with their general in pursuit.

“Futuo,” he muttered, marking the amusement on many of the soldiers’ faces. They were enjoying this too much.

“She runs like a hare, General,” an optio remarked, grinning.

“And so do I,” Justin replied through gritted teeth.

In truth, he’d feared he wouldn’t catch her before she reached the gates. However, fury had given him a burst of speed at the end.

His pulse pounded in his ears now, not from exertion but anger.

This woman was causing him no end of trouble. Even now, she fought his hold, her feet scrabbling on the pavers as he pushed her ahead of him.

He couldn’t take her back to the praetorium, not at present. She’d only try to escape again.