Deragan grimaced. Rotating on his heel, he took the walk. Crossing the road, he passed vehicles until spotting the familiar brown gelding with a single white sock.

She calls him Traps. Dammit!

Taking two steps back he confirmed the coat of arms engraved into the ladies’ saddle. Bishop.

Growling deep in his throat he rubbed his temples with his palms.

An old man walking toward him furrowed his brow at the inhuman sound. Rubbing his throat, Deragan pretended to cough as they crossed the walk.

Unloading boxes from the bags hooked to the Bishop horse, a roughened man carried them into Don’s Exchange. Holding the door open for him, Nora gave the white carriage arriving, an irritated glance. Staring ahead she refused to acknowledge Simon Worthington getting out. Preferring instead, to disappear back into the store.

Approaching the worker, Worthington whispered in a low voice and slipped him some coin.

Deragan’s hands fisted. Paying him for what?

He’s going to do something to her.

Worthington looked furtively around. Spotting Deragan heading for him.

Deragan stared him down as he walked by.

Worthington lifted a brow but spared only a cursory glance before rounding to go inside. Shaking his curling blonde hair from his face as he went in.

He’s not linked to Radix psychically or he’d have known what I am. Circling a stone warehouse, Deragan peered around its edge.

Worthington tossed his hands in frustration. Returning to his carriage, he watched until Nora emerged from the store.

The rough shopkeep gestured for her to go around back. He looked everywhere but at her.

He’s lying! Come on Nora look at him! Deragan willed her.

She gave a hesitant nod.

No! Shoving a hand through his hair, he eased toward the back of the building, freezing as the alley came into view. He looked at it from a predator’s perspective. The grove at the back of the buildings was only separated by a desolate dirt road with heavy branches drooping over it. Perfect for cornering prey.

Not her. Not this time. The muscle in his jaw ticked. He moved into the split between buildings, blending into the darkest shadows.

Appearing around the corner, Nora waited a few minutes before climbing from her horse. She waited at the door for the ugly worker. Slipping a silver watch from the pocket of her brown overcoat, she wound the button expertly.

A form fitting blue riding habit traced a long length of leg. Gold thread trimmed the pockets. Furred boots covered her calves. The top pressed against her in the breeze. Her hair was wove into a loose braid, pulled over one shoulder. Much of it already crept free. A few curling tresses framed her face.

As the Worthington carriage crept down the alley, she straightened. Gnawing her lip, she turned her back to it. Rapping desperately on the door as she moved to avoid Worthington’s vehicle. Unprepared for him to toss open the door and roughly yank her in.

He tossed her onto the seat and leaned over her. Forcefully prying at her clothing as his knee drove one thigh off the seat.

Fury blinded Deragan as he heard her broken shout. Picking up a rock, he launched it at the back window. Traveling faster than the rock, he caught the driver by the collar and hauled him down, yanking the horses to a careening stop. Blasting through the back window, the rock struck Worthington in the back of the head before thudding dully to the floor.

Deragan threw the driver against the carriage as violently as swinging a mace. The force rocking it. Future deterrent in working for Worthington.

Body going limp, the servant slid to the ground. Back screeching down the side.

Worthington’s eyes widened on Nora as his hand moved to the back of his head. He stared at the blood coating it in shock.

She shoved Worthington off her. Twisting from the hand covering her mouth she unleashed an earsplitting scream. Escaping his weight and clawing hands, she scooted to the opposite side of the carriage and reached for the handle.

Ripping off the dented door Deragan yanked Worthington out. Tossing him ferociously aside so he could peer in.

Nora climbed out the other door with her back to him.

For only a heartbeat, if she’d looked over her shoulder, she would’ve seen him. So close he instinctively reached for her. Stretching across the carriage seat.

But she stepped from the other side. Moving from his reach without ever looking back.

She doesn’t even know I’m here.

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