CHAPTER TWO
" W hat do ye have to report? And be quick with it," Nicholas said.
"Word’s come that the carriage has been spotted," Marcus said, his voice low, yet eager. "It’s only a few hours out from here. We’ll be ready when it arrives."
Nicholas gave a brief nod, his gaze fixed on the distant road that led to Laird McLaren's castle.
He had been waiting for this moment, a chance to retaliate against the man who had dared to take his son from him.
The thought burned in his chest, but he forced himself to remain calm, his smirk betraying nothing but cold resolve.
“Good,” he said.
He looked up at the trees, watching them sway to determine the direction of the wind. He checked the sky for a chance of storms. He was a man of experience, and he left nothing to chance.
"When the time comes, we raid the carriage, and we take the lass. Nay mistakes. I daenae tolerate mistakes. Aye?" Nicholas said.
Marcus looked over at him, raising an eyebrow. “Aye, but what will ye do with her once ye’ve got her, Nicholas?”
Nicholas’s lips twisted into a cruel smile.
"Leo wants to play games with me," he sneered, his eyes darkening with malice. "If he thinks takin’ me son is some jest, then I’ll show him how a real game is played." He paused, the cruel intent settling deeper into his bones. "I’ll enjoy breakin’ his sister, watchin’ her beg me for mercy. "
"And if Leo doesnae give ye Charles back?"Marcus asked.
Nicholas’s eyes gleamed with a deadly light as he looked over at Marcus. "Then the lass should pray for a miracle," he replied coldly, his voice flat and final.
The wind blew harder, carrying with it the scent of earth and the promise of what was to come.
Nicholas shifted in the saddle, the tension in his body coiling tighter with every passing minute.
He could feel the excitement bubbling beneath his skin, and yet, something inside him warned that this wasn’t just about revenge. This was something far more dangerous.
Nicholas’s mind was already on the next step—how he would get Leo to bend to his will. The thought of the power he would wield once he had the lass in his grasp sent a shiver of anticipation down his spine.
Let him come for her, and I will rip him to shreds for what he has done.
"This mission will serve its purpose. It has to," he said, his tone barely above a whisper. "She’ll be the leverage I need to get me son back. And when Leo’s seen what I can do, he’ll have nay choice but to give him up."
"I am at yer side," Marcus said.
The words hung heavy in the air. Nicholas’s hand tightened on the reins as he shifted in his seat, his gaze never leaving the road ahead. He could already picture it—the moment when they would strike, when they would capture the woman and force Leo to submit.
And when it was over, there would be no turning back.
So help me if this ignites a war, then I shall be the victor or die tryin’.
“And the mercenaries?” Nicholas asked.
“Arrivin’ any minute,” Marcus said.
“And ye were silent about it? They shouldnae ken who I am,” Nicholas said.
“I was silent as the grave. They daenae ken who they work for, only that coin is to be had for their work and their silence,” Marcus said.
The sound of hooves approaching brought Nicholas out of his trance, his mind snapping back to the task at hand.
"The raidin’ party's almost here, Nicholas," Marcus informed him, his voice low but clear. "A group of ten mercenaries, as ye asked."
Nicholas nodded, his jaw clenched tightly. This was it. The moment he’d been waiting for, the moment he would begin to claw back what was rightfully his. "Good," he muttered, his voice thick with a dark promise. "Get them in line. I'll handle them."
As the mercenaries gathered before him, Nicholas moved his horse back and forth on the line with cold precision.
His eyes swept over the group, taking in their hardened faces, the weapons strapped to their sides.
He could smell the stench of sweat and blood on them, but it mattered little; they were tools for his purpose, and that was all.
He addressed them sharply, his voice carrying across the gathering.
"Ye’re being paid well for yer silence," he began, his tone firm and unyielding.
"This mission is simple: we raid a carriage, take the occupants hostage, and get out without a trace. Ye’ll be paid handsomely for yer work, but ye willnae tell a soul who I am, nor speak of this to anyone. Do ye understand?"
Each man stood still, listening intently. Nicholas's gaze never faltered as he looked them over, waiting for the response he knew would come. He could feel the weight of his words sinking in, could see the understanding in their eyes.
“And how do we ken we will be paid when the job is done?” a mercenary with a patch over his eye said.
“Ye dare question me honor?” Nicholas said.
The patch eye laughed, “There’s nay honor amongst thieves. I say ye pay us half before the job and half after.”
“What are ye called, lad?” Nicholas asked.
“Patch,” the young man answered.
“Of course, what else. Well, Patch, those are nae the terms,” Nicholas said.
“And why nae? Sounds like they be good terms to me,” Patch said.
“Because as ye said, there’s nay honor among thieves and if I pay ye half, what’s to say ye will nae run off with it and nae do the job?” Nicholas said, getting closer to the man.
“Yet, it’s standard terms to pay half upfront,” Patch said.
Nicholas looked to Marcus, who made a subtle no nod. He turned back to Patch.
“Ye think me daft, Patch? That is nae the standard. Ye are tryin’ to get coin out of me, rob me. Ye think I daenae ken how men for hire work?” Nicholas growled.
“Nay I daenae think ye do. Who are ye? Ye daenae seem like a mercenary to me or a raider. Nay ye seem like someone who is well fed and high up,” Patch said.
Nicholas grew angry. He could not blow his cover, and this particular observant mercenary was making his blood boil.
“Aye, well fed cause I’m good at me job and that should have ye shakin’ in yer boots,” he said.
“Nay, that’s nae it. I think ye be the…”
Whack . Before Patch could finish, Nicholas punched him right in the nose. The man fell backward onto the ground and passed out cold.
“Anyone else want to question me word, or the job at hand?” Nicholas shouted.
The mercenaries were quiet. Not one locked eyes with him but looked straight ahead.
“Good. The terms stay as is. Ye will be paid after the job is done. Ye will keep yer silence. Ye have me word that if ye follow those terms ye will nae regret this job. Is that understand?”
“Aye!” the men shouted in unison.
“Now ye will each give yer word. Ye see there may nae be honor among thieves but there is loyalty to a job, and I expect nothin’ else,” Nicholas said.
One by one, they stepped forward, raising their right hands in solemn oath. "Aye, I give me word," they replied, their voices unified in agreement.
Nicholas gave a sharp nod, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips.
The mercenaries had given their word. They would carry out the raid without hesitation, and in return, they would be paid for their silence and loyalty.
Nicholas could already hear the clash of swords in his mind, the screams of those who would be caught in the web he was weaving. But it didn’t matter.
Me son will be returned to me, and nothin’ can stand in me way.
Nicholas gave the order with a sharp command. "Move out," he said, his voice carrying over the quiet murmur of the mercenaries as they gathered their reins.
The group moved their horses, the thundering of hooves filling the air as they began to ride through the forest along the long road.
Marcus, riding beside him, broke the silence with a word of caution.
"Nicholas, I've ken ye since we were wee bairns.
Ye are me master, but I say this as a friend, nae yer man-at-arms. Ye can still turn back.
It's nae too late," he said, his voice carrying a note of concern. "This path ye’re on, it’ll nae bring yer boy back. It’ll only make more enemies, perhaps spark a war. "
Nicholas didn’t look at him, his jaw set in stone. "I’ll nae be talked out of this, Marcus," he muttered, his voice low and dangerous. "I’m yer Laird, and ye’ll obey me, or ye can leave this moment." He pulled his horse forward with a sharp jerk of the reins, his eyes narrowing in steely resolve.
Marcus’ lips pressed into a thin line. "Aye, ye’re the Laird, and I’ll follow ye," he said at last, his voice filled with reluctant acceptance. "But ye’ll regret this. I can feel it in me bones."
Nicholas said nothing more, the weight of his decision pressing down on him like the heavy skies above.