Chapter Text
Imogen’s mind spun as the days bled together, the miles slowly passing under their feet. Every inch she took towards Morhold’s estate felt like a step closer to the end, though she refused to let herself believe it. There had to be a way out, even if it was only her own ingenuity that could get her there. She could not, would not, wait for a rescue that may never come. The thought of being reliant on someone else, even Garrick, who had once sworn to protect her, felt like the final nail in her coffin.
Morhold sat at her side, his tall form looming with an air of twisted confidence. He hadn’t stopped talking, his voice a constant presence beside her, slithering like a snake.
“You know, Imogen,” he said, his tone light and almost too casual, “you should be grateful. Most girls would consider themselves lucky to be in your position. Being chosen, especially by someone of my... standing .”
She forced herself to ignore the bitter taste in her mouth, biting back the retort that was itching to escape her lips. Instead, she kept her gaze ahead, her posture stiff and controlled.
“I didn’t ask for your ‘choice,’” she snapped, not sparing him a glance.
Morhold chuckled darkly, the sound rich with amusement. “No, you didn’t. But here you are, all the same. I’ve never had to chase a prize this much, Imogen. You are more valuable than you know.” He leaned in closer, his breath brushing against her ear as he added, “But I’ll make you see it soon enough.”
Imogen shuddered involuntarily, her skin crawling at his proximity. She pushed the disgust down, forcing her voice to remain steady.
“I’m not your prize, Morhold,” she said sharply. “I’m not some... object you can collect and display.”
He didn’t respond immediately, but she could feel the smirk that crept across his face, even if she couldn’t see it. It was the kind of smile that made her stomach twist, the kind of smile that made her wish she had something sharp to stab into his chest.
“You might not think you are,” Morhold replied, his voice softening into something almost tender. “But you are, Imogen. You’ll see.”
She didn’t acknowledge him, didn’t give him the satisfaction of any reaction. Instead, she focused on the long road ahead. If she could just make him think she was compliant, she might still have a chance to figure out a way out. The longer she kept him at arm’s length, the better her chances of finding an opening.
As the sun began to set, the group made camp for the night. Morhold’s men scattered, setting up their own tents and fires, but Morhold stayed close to her. He always stayed close.
Imogen sat by the fire, her eyes flicking around the camp as she fought to keep her thoughts calm. The fire crackled, sending dancing shadows across the ground. She knew Morhold was watching her, even though he had yet to speak. She could feel his eyes on her back, the weight of them like a physical touch.
“What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours, Imogen?” Morhold finally asked, his voice like velvet, smooth but dangerous. “Planning an escape? Trying to figure out how to outwit me?” His tone held a mocking edge, as if he already knew the answer.
Imogen tensed but forced her body to relax. She could feel the ropes tied around her wrists, the reminder of her lack of freedom. But she refused to let him see how much he rattled her.
“No,” she said coolly, without looking at him. “I’m just trying to enjoy the last bit of peace before you make good on your threats.”
Morhold’s laugh was low, a rich, sinister sound that sent chills down her spine. “You think I’ve been making threats?” he asked, his voice soft and dangerous. “I’ve been patient, Imogen. Patient. You’ll understand soon enough that all of this... it’s for you.”
“I don’t want anything from you” she spat, finally making eye contact with him.
His eyes glinted with amusement, but the coldness never left. “Oh, I don’t need to break you, darling. You’ll break yourself.” He took a slow step closer, his shadow falling over her like a dark cloud.
Imogen bit her lip, fighting the urge to snap back at him, to tell him exactly what she thought of his twisted games. But she knew that wouldn’t help her. She had to keep him off balance, keep him thinking she was more willing than she really was. If she could convince him she was starting to give in, he might hold off on pushing her any further. She couldn’t risk him thinking she was still fighting him, not when every moment brought her closer to the estate.
“You’re wrong,” she said, her voice colder now.
Morhold’s smile deepened, the corners of his mouth curling upward with something dark and unsettling. “I have you right where I want you, Imogen. You have no choice but to surrender.”
Imogen held her ground, refusing to flinch. But inside, her mind raced. She needed more time. She couldn’t let him take her to bed, not yet. She could feel the web tightening around her, each word he spoke drawing her further into his control. She had to outsmart him. Manipulate him into keeping her alive, into thinking she was more of an ally than an enemy. She couldn’t afford to wait for a rescue. If it came, it would come too late. She had to take control of her own fate.
“I suppose I’ll just have to learn to trust you, then,” she said, her voice sweetening with a forced softness. She tilted her head slightly, playing the part of the willing, obedient captive. “But you’ll have to be patient with me.”
Morhold’s eyes gleamed at the subtle shift in her tone, but he said nothing, just stood there, watching her with that calculating gaze. He seemed pleased, perhaps even intrigued by her apparent change of heart.
“Patient?” he echoed, his voice dark with promise. “I can be whatever you need, Imogen. Whatever you want me to be.”
Her stomach twisted, but she forced a smile, holding back the bile that rose in her throat. “That sounds promising,” she said, keeping her voice smooth, like she was truly considering what he said. “I suppose I could start... believing you.”
Morhold leaned in slightly, his smile widening as he studied her with a mixture of amusement and desire. “Good girl,” he purred. “You’ll see, Imogen. You’ll see how right this all feels.”
Imogen fought the urge to gag, but she kept her mask in place. The next few days were going to be critical. She had to walk this fine line, pretending to give in while planning her escape. She couldn’t afford to make a mistake, not when the stakes were so high.
She just needed to bide her time.
__________________________________________
The rhythmic clatter of hooves on cobbled roads filled the small, cramped space of the carriage. Each jolt of the vehicle sent a sharp tremor through the wooden walls, but the noise of their journey did little to mask the tension in the air. Garrick sat next to Liam, his eyes fixed on the road, scanning the horizon as if he might somehow will Morhold’s estate to appear on the distant edge of the land. Despite knowing they had days of riding ahead, his restless gaze never faltered, as if watching it would make the time go faster. Liam, on the other hand, was driving the carriage, his posture stiff and his fingers drumming absently on the leather reins. He could feel the heat of Garrick’s stare, but he didn’t acknowledge it. Xaden slouched behind them against the far wall, arms crossed over his chest, his scowl deepening as the carriage rocked with each bump. He was trying to sleep through the noise of their ongoing bickering, but the tension was palpable, and sleep was proving difficult.
“I’m telling you, we’re wasting time,” Garrick finally snapped, his voice sharp and urgent. His eyes were hard, his expression taut with frustration as he stared at Liam. “Imogen is out there, and we’re sitting here, arguing about what to do once we get to Morhold’s estate. We need to keep moving—now.”
Liam shot Garrick an exasperated look, his grip on the reins tightening as he leaned forward slightly, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize. We’re literally moving right now, Garrick. Is that not what you wanted? Do you want the carriage to suddenly sprout wings and fly us there faster? Or should we commandeer a dragon? You know how fond they are of us.” His lips curled into a mock smile, but the tension in his voice was clear. “I know she’s out there, that’s why I’m rushing down this back road at breakneck speed. This is certainly not my idea of a good time.”
Garrick’s jaw clenched, irritation rising within him at the sarcasm in Liam’s voice. But the fire in his eyes was more controlled now, simmering just beneath the surface. “You’re not getting it, Liam. The longer we sit here debating, the more time she’s at risk. She doesn’t have time for us to ‘figure it out.’ We need to get there before Morhold does something worse—before it’s too late.”
Liam’s face flushed with frustration, his tone growing sharp as he snapped back. “We are literally moving , Garrick. I don’t know what else you want me to do! We’re careening down this road. I’m not exactly dragging my heels here!” He let out a tight breath, hands pulling the reins just a little tighter as if trying to push the carriage faster. “You need to acknowledge that we are moving, or I swear to the gods, I’ll throw you out of this carriage myself and you can go ahead on foot.”
Garrick’s eyes narrowed, his voice low and pointed. “That’s not what I meant—”
“Then say it , Garrick,” Liam interrupted, his voice rising slightly. “Say that we’re moving. We’re doing something . You keep acting like we’re sitting around twiddling our thumbs. That’s not the reality here. We’re on our way —so stop pretending like we’re wasting time.”
With a frustrated grunt, Garrick gave a single nod. “Fine. We’re technically moving,” he muttered. “But that doesn’t change the fact that we need to be moving faster. We’re running out of time.”
Liam’s eyes narrowed as he shot Garrick an incredulous look. “No, not technically . We are moving , Garrick. Moving.”
“Shut the fuck up , ” Xaden muttered from the corner, his voice rough from the remnants of his hangover. He rubbed his temples, leaning forward as if the noise was physically hurting him. “Both of you. We’re on a damn carriage ride, not a battlefield. You’ve been bickering for hours, and I can’t take it anymore. We’re moving, we’re going, and that’s enough . Get over yourselves for five minutes.”
His words hung heavily in the air, the tension between Garrick and Liam momentarily stifled by Xaden’s brutal interruption. Both men glanced at him, but neither said a word, the weight of his exasperation sinking in. Xaden slouched back in his seat, rubbing his temples again.
Garrick, caught off guard, opened his mouth as if to argue, then closed it with a sharp exhale. He turned his gaze out onto the open road, his shoulders tight with frustration.
Liam, though, still fumed. “Fine. Whatever,” he muttered, his grip on the reins tightened, his knuckles turning white.
He shot Garrick an incredulous look. “Listen, you’re the only one who seems to think that no one else cares about Imogen. We all care, Garrick. Despite what you want to believe, we’re all here for her.” His voice was sharp now, the edges fraying as his frustration mounted. “But maybe if you could stop pretending you’re the only one who loves her, you’d see that the rest of us are trying to get this right too. At least I can admit it. You’re so busy being some kind of martyr, you can’t even admit that you—"
“Can we just focus on the task at hand?” Xaden growled, the edge in his voice unmistakable. “We need to get to the estate and save Imogen, and I'd prefer not to have to go in alone after having murdered you both.”
The words hung in the air, heavy with sarcasm and the truth of their situation.
Garrick and Liam both froze, the immediate threat of Xaden’s declaration silencing them for a moment. Xaden’s words were harsh, but they were the wake-up call both men needed. The reality of their mission, of Imogen’s danger, had to take precedence—no matter how much their egos and emotions might fight against it.
Garrick was the first to look away, his expression darkening as he turned his gaze out the window, the weight of the mission pressing heavily on his chest.
Liam’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t argue. He too understood that there was no room for further bickering. They had to get to the estate. And they had to get there together, or they wouldn’t get there at all.