The Darkest Day

by Britt Bury

  Lennox was another Fionn Warrior and Andrew’s right-hand man. He also seethed with hatred for the Kerr Pookahs.

  “No!” She scrambled from the bed and sprinted to the walk-in closet. Tearing through piles of shirts and pants, she quickly grew frustrated and just started chucking clothing out of the closet.

  “Lass, we’re going down the hall, not to the prom.”

  “Shut up,” she yelled, yanking up a pair of jeans and tugging on a red sweatshirt. Hustling out of the closet, she stopped midstride, reality hitting her like a punch to the kidney.

  “I don’t know if I even want to see him.” She saw Ramsey’s eyes soften as he met her in the middle of the room.

  “That’s your choice. For now, we just need ta go figure out what ta do about this. A text does no’ tell me much, ya know?” She nodded uncertainly. “Hey.” He chucked her gently under the chin. “You are the chief of the Campbell clan.”

  A shaky smile stretched her lips. It was time to step up. Kelvin was here, and she was undoubtedly about to face more than one Fionn who wanted to see him killed. That was her decision.

  With a deep breath, she smoothed her hands over her hair and lifted her chin. Doing her best to harden her features, she slapped on her “game face,” or at least the fiercest look she could muster.

  Pursing her lips, she gave a single nod to Ramsey.

  “Thatta girl,” he said, leading her out the door.

  Eight minutes, fourteen hallways, and several erratic heartbeats later, Izel was standing in front of the command room.

  “Gentlemen,” Izel addressed Andrew and Lennox as she entered. A long mahogany table was situated in the center of the room. Atop its surface rested maps and various papers. To the left was a sectioned-off area, where monitors hung from the walls and massive amounts of computer equipment encircled a crescent-shaped desk. The security feeds from every camera on Campbell territory were on a constant stream.

  “Ramsey tells me that a Pookah has breeched our walls,” she stated.

  Andrew’s heated glare snapped upon Ramsey, who only grinned and plopped down into a chair beside the table.

  “Yes. The Kerr has turned himself over. He’s being taken below as we speak.” Izel knew that “below” was a just a nice way to say “dungeon.” Although the castle, for the most part, had been modernized, the cells underground had been left resembling something from the Dark Ages. Aside from having mystically reinforced bars, the jail was quite barbaric.

  She glanced at Ramsey for reassurance before meeting Andrew’s stare. “I don’t want any harm brought to the Pookah.”

  Andrew’s gray eyes widened. “Surely you can’t mean to leave him be? He should be killed, tortured.”

  “Andrew”—she took a deep breath and narrowed her eyes—“no harm to the Pookah.”

  Out of her peripheral vision, she saw Ramsey grin, thread his fingers together, and rest his palms behind his head.

  Andrew’s look turned deadly, and she saw a muscle tick in his jaw. “What do you want done with him, then? Brought to your chambers, perhaps?” he sneered. All eyes landed on Thompson then. The room was quiet, the air in it practically vibrating with tension.

  Stand tall or be walked on.

  She leaned forward, resting her palms on the polished table, never taking her eyes from Andrew, who stood on the opposite side.

  “You know nothing about me and are unwise to speak to me in such a manner.” Her gaze remained locked on his as she harnessed all the courage she had. “I thought you were an honorable man, Andrew.” He snarled at that, but she continued. “I was not aware that the good and brave Fionns of Campbell tortured unarmed men under surrender.”

  This statement definitely hit a nerve, because she saw Andrew’s stormy eyes spark with rage. “I do not know how you have been running things around here, but we are not heathens. We do not bang our clubs and ask questions later.”

  At her words, Lennox’s shoulders straightened and Ramsey removed his feet from the table.

  “And you do not give orders of supreme measure without my permission.” She was on a roll. This was her clan, her birthright. A sudden feeling of power surged through her.

  “The Pookah will go to the dungeon, but he has come bearing us no ill will.” She looked at all three men before her gaze landed on Andrew once more. “I will assume you spoke so disrespectfully to me due to your desire to protect and seek vengeance on my behalf, and so I forgive you.”

  He clenched his teeth and she shot him a look that dared him to challenge her.

  “I trust we will not have a problem again.” She didn’t wait for an answer before continuing. “Ramsey will guard the Pookah. I will see to the rotation of security and to the treatment of the prisoner. No one will enter the cell, nor lay a hand on him.”

  Her eyes roamed over all three men. “Are we in accordance?”

  Ramsey and Lennox replied in unison, “Aye.”

  She raised a brow at Andrew. Gnashing his teeth and still giving her a thunderous glare, he grated, “Aye.”

  Kelvin sat in the dark cell and waited. A single wooden bench bolted into the wall was all that resembled furniture in the dank cage. He was surrounded by mystically reinforced stone and bars, trying to tamp down his excitement.

  Yes, he was deliriously happy to be imprisoned.

  So far, he hadn’t been beaten. He’d like to believe that Izel knew he was here and was just moments away from running into his arms. He also knew better than to believe in such a fantasy. No, if he was going to get his mortal back, he’d have to earn her.

  And by God I will.

  He shot to his feet at the sound of approaching footsteps. The torches lining the hall before him glowed against the brick walls, and the smell of wet rock and earth engulfed the space. A slow, dripping sound echoed somewhere in the distance.

  His heartbeat simmered. The strides sounded too long to be hers. He sat back down, waiting. Moments later a dark-eyed Fionn with a folding chair and newspaper in his grasp set up shop directly in front of Kelvin’s cell. “Pookah,” he gestured a greeting, unfolding the chair and resting it against the far wall of the hall. The Fionn was obviously a Warrior and even looked familiar. Stood to reason, though. Kelvin had been fighting them for centuries, and seeing the same faces over and over again on the battlefield one couldn’t help learning some of the names to match some of the faces.

  The Fionn sat and began working on a crossword puzzle. Kelvin’s brows drew together and he eyed the Warrior in disbelief.

  “Is it your intent ta bore me ta death?” Kelvin quipped. “Your torturing techniques have really gone soft—”

  “Torture? You mean what you had planned ta do ta Izel?”

  Kelvin shot to his feet and gripped the bars. “I would no’ have let that happen.”

  The Fionn didn’t even look up from his puzzle. Tapping his pen against the paper he asked, “What’s a seven-letter word that means ‘to get rid of’?”

  Tension shot through him, but then he replied with sadness. “Forsake,” he murmured.

  “Ah!” the Fionn cried, nodding his head and scribbling on the paper. “Of course.”

  What the hell was going on? Someone should have come by now to at least administer a beating. He was surprised Thompson had waited this long; he half expected the prick to be down here himself to start the whipping.

  “Ramsey Gunn,” Kelvin rasped. It had taken him a moment but finally memory served. The Warrior who sat before him was a high sergeant in the Campbell army. “Why is someone of your status down here in the prison? Were you demoted?”

  Ramsey only smirked. “What’s a six-letter word for ‘asshole,’ Pookah? Starts with an ‘F’ and ends in ‘e-r.’ ”

  Kelvin fisted the bars again. “What game is this, Gunn?”

  “Oh, I’m just down here ta guard ya. See?” He leaned forward over his knees and looked Kelvin in the eye. “There’s a hot little piece around here giving out orders. I’m happy to do anything she wishes
.”

  “You better not be speaking of Izel in such a way,” Kelvin said between clenched teeth.

  Gunn looked him in the eye and smiled wide. “Oh, aye. She’s got to be the prettiest little human with the greenest eyes and the sweetest voice.”

  His knuckles went white on the bars. “You speak casually of her.”

  “Why would I no’?” Gunn’s grin was relentless. “We’ve grown close these last few weeks.” He winked, and Kelvin wanted to rip through the bars and gouge the man’s eyes from their sockets.

  He could tell the Fionn was loving this. Goading him, reminding him of what he was missing… his female. This prick before him got to be in her company regularly. Got to look into those lovely eyes of hers. His blood scorched his veins, jealousy rising. What had they done together? Had Izel dismissed him so quickly? Taken this Fionn into her bed?

  No!

  He roared and banged his fists, causing the whole cell to shake.

  “I figured you weren’t housebroken, but no need ta throw a fit there, boar.” He rose and set his puzzle and pen on the seat of his chair. “You really are a fool, Kerr.”

  Just a little closer, Kelvin thought. Then he could reach out and choke this sod. The Fionn shook his head, as if reading Kelvin’s thoughts. “If you really think you can get close enough ta me, give it up.”

  Kelvin bared his teeth and snarled.

  “If you care for her, Pookah, you’d leave here. Let her be.”

  “She is my female. I will no’ leave here without her.”

  Gunn raised his eyebrows. “Oh, really? And what if she does no’ want you? What if she can’t even stomach the sight o’ you?”

  Kelvin glanced down. He had the same questions, the same fears.

  “You know she ordered none ta harm you. And the day we picked her up, she forbade anyone ta touch you. She spares you, goes against her clan ta keep you from pain. Yet pain is all you’ve brought ta her.” The Fionn’s dark eyes narrowed. “You do no’ deserve such kindness, Pookah.”

  “Do ya think I don’t know this?” Kelvin hissed. “I’ll never deserve her. But—” He cut off his own words, shocked anew at how this small female had changed him so much. Kelvin had never once surrendered, never once begged. He demanded, and he took. Yet here, in his enemy’s dungeon, he was about to go to his knees for a single sight of his woman.

  He loathed himself more than Izel ever could. He’d put her life in danger. He had put her at risk. Despite this curse, he knew that if given the chance to take back knowing her… touching her… he wouldn’t.

  This is why I’m a selfish bastard.

  There was no use in denying it. He had hurt her. Put her in jeopardy and continued to do so by showing up here. But his feelings for her were too great to run from. He would never trust another with the duty of her safety, her survival.

  “My life has begun. I can no’ go back.” He looked at the Fionn without shame. “She does no’ just complete my being. She has brought me ta life. To be without her is to be cradled by death.”

  He must have imagined it, but for a split second the Fionn’s eyes might have flashed with empathy. As if he somehow understood Kelvin’s misery—how it felt to be dead inside.

  Soft footfalls sounded in the distance.

  Both Kelvin and Ramsey looked down the hall. Kelvin’s heart sped up. His woman was coming for him. The Fionn left him then, undoubtedly trying to head off Izel before she came into sight.

  “Perhaps it’s time ta come clean, Pookah. About everything.” He glanced over his shoulder. “No better time than the present ta test your mate’s ability ta forgive.” The Fionn strode down the long brick corridor, fading into the shadows.

  Chapter 26

  After meeting with the warriors in the command room, Izel had felt a little swagger in her step. That was, until she hit the creepy gates of the underground prison. She had been determined to be strong and not care that Kelvin Kerr was actually within spitting distance.

  She stayed away from the dungeon all day after learning of his arrival before going below to see him.

  Now, the Pookah bellowed in the distance.

  “You donna have ta do this, you know.”

  Izel jumped out of her skin. Seeming to come out of nowhere, Ramsey rounded the corner and cut her off.

  “You scared the crap out of me,” she whispered forcefully. She couldn’t stop herself from trying to sidestep him, her gaze darting past the Fionn’s wide shoulders. She caught herself stepping up on her tiptoes, trying to glimpse the hallway that housed the cell holding Kelvin Kerr.

  “Izel?”

  Her eyes shot up to Ramsey’s, and she felt a sheepish grin spreading across her face. Why was she… giddy? She had no idea what kind of emotion this was. She hated the Pookah, didn’t she? She told herself she wasn’t even sure she wanted to lay eyes on him, and yet excitement bubbled inside.

  He came for me.

  Or maybe not. She internally cursed herself. Had she not learned a single thing? Who knew why Kelvin was here, and her shattered heart was by no means mended just because he’d shown up and turned himself over to her clan. The enemy clan. No… his nobility and self-sacrificing stunt would gain him no ground with her. Not in the least.

  “You go ta him, and there’s no turning back.” She heard the warning in Ramsey’s tone, as if speaking from experience, and knew he was right. If she continued her quest down this corridor, she would come into view of the Pookah. She’d see his piercing eyes, hear his deep voice, smell his spicy, masculine scent.

  Her whole being urged her to go to him. The same force that had pushed her to Kelvin since the first time she had laid eyes on him had not relented. Would one look from the man that held her soul send her sad, empty house of cards crashing to the floor? If he gazed at her with that raw ferocity that made her pulse stutter, would she be able to deny him?

  Her thoughts were interrupted when she heard Ramsey sigh loudly. “I am in no way equipped ta give advice, nor tell ya what ta do.” He looked at her with such concern, eyes laced with the kind of worry a parent might have for a child. “It’s gonna hurt, lass… badly.”

  Since the day she’d come here, Ramsey had been the only person who didn’t look at her with contempt, sneering at her shortcomings. He simply informed her of what was to happen and allowed her free rein. “Thank you, Ram.” She gripped his hand, giving it a friendly squeeze.

  A terrifying roar came from down the hall. Izel dropped her hand from Ramsey’s as if his had burned her skin.

  Looking over his shoulder Ramsey yelled, “Oh, come on, Pookah. Really?” He looked back at her, shrugging, and stepped out of her way. “Maybe you can go calm that beast.”

  “What happened? Is he hurt?” She stepped forward.

  “Nay, he’s just pissed ya touched me.”

  Her confused gaze landed on Ramsey. “What? How? He can’t even see us, not that it matters. I mean, I don’t even—”

  “I’m gonna have ta stop ya there, lass, since it sounds like you’re about to accidentally insult me,” he said with a grin.

  She smiled. “You know what I mean.”

  “Aye. Now. Can you please go do something about that boar? He’s making the whole castle shake with his tantrums.”

  She rolled her eyes, but as soon as Ramsey walked away, leaving Izel alone and mere yards from the Pookah, a hot dose of angst shot through her. Swallowing back the lump in her throat, she followed the bellowing and stepped into the dim hall.

  The soft footfalls of his female’s steps crept closer… slowly… slowly. The suspense tormented him. Kelvin ached to see her, to touch her. Although she was hidden by the shadows, he could scent her. And not only that, he smelled himself on her, inside her. Masculine pride soared through him.

  My mate.

  He shook his head hard, fighting against the night and his instincts fervently. His mind and body were constantly battling within him. She stepped from the shadows, and his breath hitched.

  So
beautiful. So mine…

  “Izel.” He gripped the bars, willing himself to control his manic thoughts. The ones that were currently screaming to claim his female, to roar and fight for her.

  She lifted her face into the dim glow of a nearby sconce. Her eyes filled yet she held back her tears. The mere sight of her was drugging. He made himself go still… refusing to give in to this addiction. Her haunted eyes stared beyond him. Pain assailed him, aching in his chest at her expression. She was hurting.

  Her gaze wouldn’t meet his, rather it quickly roamed over his features and went back toward the floor as if she couldn’t allow herself to look upon him.

  I’ve done this to her.

  Kelvin wanted to gut himself. How could he have allowed this to happen? He’d known the whole time she was his, and yet he’d denied it, fought it. And now, in the end, she suffered. He had planned to plead his case, to relentlessly argue for her forgiveness. To war, fight, submit. Whatever she wanted he would do to make this right. But standing before her in this bleak cell he realized she was too far out of his league.

  No matter what he attempted, he would never be good enough for her. He could only hope to protect her: the prophecy of her death was not an option. And if he couldn’t change her fate with magic, he’d change it by meeting any being that meant her harm with the steel of his blade.

  When she whispered his name, he sank to his knees, his hands sliding down the bars. Her delicate, broken voice was like a slap to the face. Bowing his head, he took a deep breath, letting despair wash over him.

  “I’m sorry, love.”

  Izel looked down at Kelvin. She had been stupid to think she could handle this. With each step she had taken, the memory of his betrayal, the sting of his lies burned into her. All her concentration couldn’t produce an expressionless face. She knew she wore her pain like a flag—could tell by the Pookah’s reaction.

  He was a proud warrior. An immortal leader of a fierce army. A man who had never surrendered, even when facing torture or defeat. And yet this same man was on his knees before her, groveling.

  “Please, lass.” He beseeched.