Yvette lay unconscious after being brutally beaten, slumped in the bushes, cold damp leaves pressing against her skin. They dumped a handful of money onto her chest, letting it scatter across her face before dragging themselves away.
James threw Lyra onto the back of the old truck and climbed in beside her. His men followed, slamming the doors shut. The engine roared to life as the trucks rattled down Aldenridge's narrow, winding lanes.
Lyra edged closer to the window, watching the last shadows of night yield to the pale, pinkish glow creeping across the horizon. Faint lights flickered in the half-awake villagers' homes, and roosters crowed somewhere in the distance.
Night was fading, but Rowan was still nowhere in sight. Did he really care enough to come for her this time? She still hoped he would, just as he had on the night he saved her.
Lyra didn't notice that James was watching her, studying the unease flickering beneath her composure.
The man, somewhere in his late thirties, couldn't help but wonder who this girl really was—the bride Yvette had stolen.
One glance at the dress said it all. Even rumpled and creased, it still whispered of money and power.
Ah, whatever. Soon she'd have a new name, a new life. The past was done.
Then James pulled out a small bottle, no bigger than a finger.
"Drink," he said, his tone flat.
Lyra blinked, snapping out of her daze. Her gaze shifted to the bottle in his hand.
"What is it?" she asked, not reaching for it.
"Some kind of energy tonic," James replied. "We've got a long journey ahead. No time to stop for food—you'll need this."
Lyra hesitated, doubt flickering in her eyes. Still, she took the bottle but didn't drink. Instead, she sniffed it, then frowned.
"No," she said firmly, handing it back to James. "Don't think I'm a fool. This is some kind of drug—it'll cause hallucinations, won't it?"
James raised a brow, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.
"Well, candy?" he offered her, pieces of candy wrapped in plastic, bright colors, a strangely enticing sight.
She recognized it immediately, it's some kind of drug disguised as candy. "I'll pass, thank you," she said firmly, refusing without a second thought.
Fascinating. Sharp as a blade, this woman. She saw right through his game like glass.
"Who are you?" He couldn't bite it back anymore. The question slipped out, as he studied the woman before him.
Lyra crossed her arms, a flicker of annoyance in her eyes. "Why? Does it even matter who I am? Or are you just fishing for ransom money?"
James let out a short laugh. "Hah! You've still got the nerve to tease me?" he said, amusement glinting in his eyes. "Well then, at least tell me your name."
He leaned closer, closing the narrow space between them. Lyra instinctively drew back, pressing a hand against his chest. "Back off."
His massive frame pinned her against the seat. Lyra hesitated, then said evenly, "Lyra Ashford."
James frowned. "Never heard of her."
He leaned back. Lyra exhaled, just a little but stayed on guard.
"Ashford… Ashford…" he muttered, fingers brushing against his neatly trimmed beard. Then his gaze sharpened. "Dr. Alexander Ashford—ring a bell?"
Lyra froze.
James caught it. "That silence says enough."
Her hand curled into a fist because James had guessed right.
It was no surprise she'd recognized it for what it was. The daughter of a distinguished doctor, she possessed her father's keen mind.
By the way, Dr. Alexander had married the daughter of a powerful man, if he recalled correctly.
"So," he said slowly, "Harold Hale's granddaughter?"
James had hoped she would say no, but Lyra only bit her cheek before giving a small nod.
"Oh, damn." James realized he'd just screwed up. Then he shrugged. "Whatever. Harold Hale's dead anyway."
Funny how a dead man could still haunt him. Lyra stayed on guard, watching his every move.
James couldn't shake the feeling that something was off.
"So," he asked, eyes narrowing, "who's the groom?"
Lyra couldn't be bothered entertaining this man. Her brow furrowed in irritation.
Fine. Since he was so curious, she replied, "Rowan Pierce."
James choked. "Cough—cough!"
Lyra blinked, startled. For a second, she didn't know whether to pat his back or just let him choke.
Her hand hovered halfway.
"Turn around—now! We have to get Yvette Windsor before she gets away!" James slammed the front seat, shouting orders.
The truck screeched, spinning sharply causing Lyra losing her balance, and tumbled onto James by accident.
"Don't get so close!" James pushed her gently, careful not to be rough but keeping her away. "Seatbelt," he added.
Lyra raised an eyebrow, clearly confused, but buckled her seatbelt without protest.
James knew he couldn't take on someone named Rowan Pierce. Not a chance. He felt foolish, not realizing that the woman Yvette had kidnapped was Rowan Pierce's wife.
All three trucks racing back toward the abandoned house, bumping over the uneven road.