The Scotch King (Scotch 1) - Page 40

“There’s that little bitch!” Dunbar flashed his light on my shoulder, catching me in my sprint.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

I shifted my body into gear and ran as hard as I could. Being cooped up on Fair Isle hindered my stamina. I was in pretty good shape before I left New York, on my feet all day at the hospital. But my fitness level had taken a serious hit.

That didn’t stop me.

“Here!” Dunbar’s voice was terrifying because it was so loud. He was close by, just yards behind me.

I wasn’t going to make it.

But I couldn’t give up just yet. I would never give up.

I broke through the tree line and kept running, finally reaching the highlands. It was dark in the wilderness, the moonlight not enough to direct me. But even if I had a flashlight, I couldn’t use it.

I knew I couldn’t outrun Dunbar. He was in too good of shape.

I had to hide.

I sprinted past a tall tree and dug my feet into the earth as I stopped. Without thinking twice about it, I ran up the trunk and grabbed a thick branch. I hoisted myself up, ignoring the splinters of wood that impaled my palms, and kept going. I climbed as far as I could before the branches thinned out and couldn’t hold my weight.

Then I sat there, trying not to breathe loudly. These guys weren’t just average men. They worked for Crewe, so they were worth their salt. It shouldn’t be hard to figure out where I was.

But I could get lucky.

Dunbar’s voice was far too close for my liking. “She’s hiding. Probably in one of these trees.”

Goddammit.

Lights flashed everywhere as a dozen men walked around my location, shining their flashlights up neighboring trees and bushes. Dunbar’s heavy boots crunched against the grass as he came close to my hiding place.

Blood pounded in my ears as I gripped the tree branch I was perched on. I wasn’t going to get away, and I would have to suffer Crewe’s cruel punishment. My imagination ran wild and utterly terrified me.

Dunbar walked to the bottom of the tree, right in my line of sight. I could see his thick silhouette with his flashlight pointed to the ground. Then he turned and pointed the light upward right at me.

His smile could be heard in his voice. “Gotcha.”

All the hope drained from my body. I felt defeated, even stupid.

Dunbar shoved his fingers into his mouth and gave a loud whistle. “She’s over here, boys.”

There was nowhere for me to go.

His Scottish accent carried his condescending tone. “I’ll climb up there and drag you down if I have to. But we both know it would be easier if you came down here on your own. There’s nowhere to run or hide. And the boss will be here any second.”

Tears sprang to my eyes but didn’t fall. All I craved was freedom, to be respected as a human being again. I missed walking to the coffee shop around the corner from my house, standing under the sunlight without fear of someone taking my rights away.

“What’s it gonna be?” he asked angrily.

There was no other plan for escape. Instead of drawing it out, I climbed down. I moved from branch to branch and slowly got to the ground. I released the last branch I was holding and my shoes hit the grass.

Dunbar immediately grabbed me by the neck and threw me hard onto the ground. “Stay there.”

I obeyed without giving attitude. The men surrounded me with their flashlights, their silhouettes obvious. Sometimes I caught a glimpse of their faces from a neighboring flashlight. When the crowd parted, I knew they were making way for their leader.

Their king.

He slowly approached me on the ground and loomed over me, his black silhouette ominous. His anger was palpable, terrifying. He radiated fierce authority, turning into the dictator he truly was.

He kneeled in front of me, his face visible from the lights of the circle. His brown eyes were cruel, no longer charming. He didn’t say a single word but he didn’t need to. His stare was intimidating enough.

“What. Did. I. Say.” His voice came out as a whisper, full of threat. His hand shot out and he gripped me by the neck, squeezing me harder than he ever had before. He constricted my throat until I couldn’t breathe.

The sad thing was, I didn’t blame him for hurting me. He gave me a fair warning. I took the risk anyway when I didn’t have a solid plan. I should have scouted the area more, learned the layout of the castle. But when the following day loomed over my head, I panicked.

He squeezed me tighter, cutting off my airway altogether. “Get. Your. Ass. Up.” He stood and dragged me with him, forcing me to my feet without the gentleness he always used to handle me with. He pushed me aside. “Walk.”

Tags: Penelope Sky Scotch Billionaire Romance
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