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“My horse.”

I pull him with me toward the forest where we left Étoile. Boone’s screams grow fainter down the road, and I draw the revolver from under my coat.

Lucien has Boone.

He tied him to a fucking horse and took him directly in front of me. After he put his hands on what rightfully belongs to me. Anger has my vision flickering.

I will get him back.

And when I find Lucien, there will be no village law, no magistrate, and no god capable of saving him from me.

I swing one leg over Étoile’s back and settle into the saddle, then look down at Boone’s father. He stands beside her breathing hard from our escape, one hand braced against her side as he tries to recover.

“Hide in these woods,” I tell him, gathering the reins. “I’m going after Boone.”

The look he gives me leaves absolutely no question as to what he thinks of that idea. He catches the back of the saddle and hauls himself up behind me with considerably more determination than I would have expected from a man who could barely keep pace with me inside the magistrate’s hall.

“That’s my boy,” he growls.

My boy too.

The thought comes naturally, but I don’t say it aloud. Boone’s father and I can discuss precisely who Boone belongs to after I have him safely back in my arms.

I dig my heels into Étoile’s sides, and she surges out of the trees and onto the road. We follow the direction Lucien disappeared with Boone, his father gripping the back of my coat to keep himself seated.

It doesn’t take long to find them.

Lucien has lost some of the distance he gained, either because his horse is carrying two men or because Boone refuses to make this easy for him. When we round a bend, I see them several hundred feet ahead. Boone is still tied in front of him, his wrists secured to the saddle horn and his body twisting against Lucien’s arm. Seeing him fight sends a rush of relief through me.

He is alive.

Conscious.

Still very much Boone.

“Lucien!” I shout.

He looks over his shoulder.

Boone does too.

The moment he sees me, something changes in his face. Lucien reacts first, wrenching hard on the reins and bringing his horse around so abruptly that the animal tosses its head in protest. I pull back on Étoile’s reins to slow her, forcing Boone’s father to grab my waist when the sudden change nearly sends him into my back.

“Rhys!”

Boone jerks against the bindings, twisting hard enough to make the horse shift uneasily. Lucien reaches under his coat before Boone can accomplish anything.

I see the pistol before Boone does.

Lucien pulls it free and raises it toward him. Everything inside me goes cold when the barrel presses firmly against Boone’s temple.

“Stop right there.”

I pull back on Étoile’s reins immediately, bringing her to a halt in the middle of the road. Boone stops fighting the moment he realizes what Lucien has pressed against his head.

The horses shift restlessly, leather creaks, and Boone breathes hard enough for me to see his chest moving from here. I stare at the pistol against his temple and calculate a distance that is entirely too great. I could draw my own weapon, but Lucien only has to move one finger before I can clear the holster.

I will not gamble Boone’s life on how quickly I can fire.