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He shivers suddenly and pulls me closer, burying his face against me as another round of sobs overtakes him. I wrap an arm around his back and put my other hand against the back of his head, holding him there. Questions are already piling one upon another, but I force myself to remain calm.
“Come inside,” I murmur. “Tell me what happened.”
He jerks his head back. “We have to go. Now.”
“I cannot travel unprepared into the village without knowing what I’m facing.”
“My father—”
“And I will get your father back.”
The certainty in my voice silences him.
I tighten my hand around the back of his neck and lower my face until he has no choice but to look at me. “But you are going to tell me exactly what happened first.”
Something changes in his expression, or perhaps he simply realizes I am not refusing to help him. Boone gives me a trembling nod.
I lead him inside.
He never lets go of me.
His hand remains twisted in the back of my shirt as we cross the castle. He follows so closely that his chest nearly touches my back all the way to the sitting room. I turn toward him, intending to sit him down, but Boone begins speaking immediately.
“They came to the house.”
“Who?”
“Lucien. Men from the village. Men I know.” His breathing quickens with every word, and he bunches my shirt in his fist. “They grabbed me, and they took Dad. They just dragged him out while I was standing there, and I couldn’t—I tried, Rhys. I tried to get to him.”
“I believe you.”
“I couldn’t—they held me.”
His mouth closes when another sob catches in his throat.
I guide him toward the sofa. “Sit.”
“No.” He shakes his head. “No, I can’t sit. I need to tell you because if I stop, I don’t think I can—” He struggles for another breath. “Lucien said all I had to do was agree to marry him and he’d let Dad go.”
Anger moves through me with such speed that I have to concentrate on keeping my face still.
“And you refused.”
Boone looks at me. “Yes.”
One word, and something profoundly possessive unfurls inside me.
“Then what?”
His eyes drop.
The change is immediate. Boone folds his arms over himself and takes a step away from me. Whatever satisfaction I felt at his refusal disappears.
“Boone.”
He cries harder than ever. “You’ll be angry at me.”
“For what?” I take both of his upper arms and pull him against me. “What did you do?”
