Page 41 of The Highlander’s Savage Vow

The silence that followed was broken only by the distant sounds of battle echoing through the castle walls. Iona pressed herself against the cold stone, straining her ears for any sign of approaching danger.

Then she heard the tread of boots on stone, growing closer with each passing second.

Multiple sets of footsteps, moving with the coordinated precision of trained soldiers.

She held her breath as two MacNab guards came into view.

Their faces were hard, their eyes filled with the ruthless intent of men used to getting what they wanted.

"There!" a harsh voice called out. "The lass. Just as Murray said!"

Before Iona could react, before she could even think to run, rough hands seized her arms. A MacNab guard materialized from the shadows, his grip iron-strong as he dragged her from her hiding place. Another warrior stepped forward, his scarred face twisted into a cruel smile.

“Iona MacDuff,” one of the soldiers sneered, his voice cold as ice. “Ye’re comin’ with us.”

“Where is the other lady?” The other guard asked, his voice sharp and demanding.

Iona’s breath hitched. She froze, her body tense as she quickly wiped the tears from her eyes. She didn’t look back as she answered, her voice steady and full of cold resolve.

“I’m alone,” Iona said flatly, her voice echoing in the narrow stone passage.

The older soldier squinted at her suspiciously. "Alone? We ken ye were with the McDuff lady. Now where is she?" He gestured to his companion. "Check down the passage."

As the second guard moved toward the tunnel where Niamh had fled, Iona acted on pure instinct. She grabbed a loose stone from the passage wall and hurled it at the nearest soldier's head. The blow connected with a sharp crack, sending him staggering against the narrow walls.

"The bitch fights!" the older one snarled, lunging fer her in the confined space.

Iona darted deeper into the tunnel, using the narrow passages to her advantage. "Is this how MacNab warriors prove their courage? By hunting women in dark tunnels?"

"Stand still, ye little wildcat," the injured soldier growled, blood trickling from his temple as he pursued her through the winding passage.

She feinted toward one branch of the tunnel, then bolted back the other way, but the older guard's longer reach caught her arm in the cramped space.

"If Murray didnae want ye alive, I’d cut ye tae pieces right now," he panted.

Iona drove her knee intae his shin, earning a grunt of pain, but his grip only tightened in the narrow confines of the tunnel. He raised his hand, but before he could strike, the older soldier stopped him.

The other soldier made a move to chase after Niamh, but the older one stopped him with a firm hand. “We’ve got what we came fer. Nae need tae risk our necks. These tunnels make me nervous.”

Iona’s heart sank. He was right.

As they stepped out of the stone shelter, Iona’s heart dropped. Her guards lay in a bloody heap by the doorway, their bodies still and lifeless. The sight of them made her stomach turn, and for a moment, the world seemed to spin around her.

They are all dead.

Her breath hitched in her throat, and she had to force herself to look away. She couldn’t let them see her fear. She wouldn’t give them that satisfaction.

She pushed down the wave of terror that threatened to overcome her. She straightened her back, pulling her shoulders back.

“I’m nae dead yet,” she whispered under her breath, as if the words themselves could drive away the terror.

But her steps faltered for a moment as she moved past her fallen guards. She could feel the weight of their deaths on her shoulders, and her heart ached for them. But there was no time to grieve now.

Iona’s hands flew to the knife at her waist. She wasn’t going to go down without a fight. Her heart raced in her chest, and for a moment, she was paralyzed by fear. But then something inside her snapped, and she lunged at the first guard, slashing wildly with the blade.

The guard was taken aback, but his reaction was quick. He stepped back, pulling his own sword, but Iona didn’t give him a chance to recover. She kicked him in the knee, making him stumble, and went for another strike.

But there were two of them, and as much as she fought, she couldn’t overpower both. The second guard grabbed her wrist, twisting it painfully until she gasped in pain. Her knife fell to the floor with a clatter.

“Ye’re nae goin’ anywhere, lass,” the second guard said with a cruel grin, pulling her toward the door.

“Nay!” Iona cried, thrashing in their grip. She kicked out, but one of them caught her foot and threw her to the ground. The impact knocked the air from her lungs.

Before she could react, they were on her again. One guard grabbed her by the hair, and the other pulled her to her feet. “Let’s get ye outside,” the first guard muttered.

Her heart pounded in her chest. She couldn’t let them take her out of the castle. Not after everything Ruaridh had fought for. She had to do something.

With all the strength she had left, Iona threw her weight to the side, knocking one of the guards into the stone wall. She ran for the exit, but the other guard grabbed her arm, dragging her backward.

“Ye’ll regret this,” the soldier hissed, tightening his grip around her wrist.

But Iona wasn’t going to stop. She screamed for help, hoping that someone, anyone, would hear her. The sounds of battle echoed from the castle courtyard, and the distant shouts of Ruaridh’s men reached her ears.

But just as she thought she might escape, the men caught her again.

“We’ve got her now,” one of the soldiers grunted, his fingers digging into her arm. “The MacDuff bitch is going nowhere.”

Iona’s chest heaved with anger, her heart pounding in her throat as she fought against the overwhelming sense of helplessness. They were taking her toward the woods. Toward a fate she refused to accept.

Her mind raced. Would Ruaridh find her in time?

He had to. She had to hold on, even as her body screamed in pain and every movement felt like a battle.

The thought of being taken deeper into MacNab’s territory threatened to break her, but she wouldn’t let it.

She wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of seeing her broken.

"Stop!" she screamed, her voice hoarse but fierce, the last of her breath punctuating the command. "Ye’ll never get away with this! Ruaridh will find me! Let me go now, and I’ll beg him tae show ye mercy."

The words tasted bitter, but they were the only thing she could cling to. She couldn’t let them see how close she was to breaking.

One of the guards, a man with a cruel sneer, spun to face her, his eyes filled with malice. "Ruaridh?" he spat, tightening his grip. "Ye’re a prisoner now. And ye’ll be a dead one soon as we hand ye over tae Laird Murray.”

The cold finality in his tone sent a chill through her spine, a sense of dread that sank deep into her bones. But even as the soldiers dragged her further into the woods, the desperate need to stay alive snapped something inside her.

Iona gathered all her strength, pushing through the haze of pain and fear. She kicked out with all the force she could muster, hitting one of her captors in the knee. His grip faltered for just a moment, and in that split second, she wriggled free from his grasp and tried to bolt.

“Dinnae let her go!” another soldier barked, grabbing at her arm once more, but Iona twisted violently, kicking him in the chest with all her strength.

She managed to break free for a few seconds—just long enough to stumble to her feet. The wildness in her chest was all that kept her moving. She could feel the adrenaline pumping through her veins, dulling the pain, sharpening her senses.

But even as she ran, her heart sinking with each step, the guards were quicker. Stronger.

“Enough!” one guard shouted, pulling her backward, slamming her body against the dirt with a force that stole the air from her lungs. Her breath came in ragged gasps as they shoved her back to the ground, pinning her down with ruthless efficiency.

Her vision blurred with the struggle, but she fought, twisting her head, kicking out with her legs. "Ye will not get away with this!" she yelled, the words spilling out in a desperate roar. “Ruaridh will come fer me. He’ll tear yer world apart!”

The guards paused for a moment, but then the sneer returned to the guard’s face.

“MacDuff cannae save ye now,” he snarled, grabbing her by the throat and squeezing. “Ye’re Murray’s.”

But even as the cold hands of the soldier tightened around her neck, Iona held onto the hope that burned brighter than any fear.

Ruaridh will come.

With a defiant breath, she spat, “Ruaridh will make sure ye never see the light of day again,” she said, her voice trembling but fierce. “And when he daes, ye’ll regret this.”

The soldier didn’t respond. Instead, he nodded to his companions, and they dragged Iona roughly to her feet. She felt every bruise, every ache, but her spirit was far from broken.