Rovers

Chapter 6

The horse screams as I yank hard on the left rein, its hooves carving deep, violent trenches into the dirt as it spins mid-gallop. Samantha’s frantic voice dies out behind me, drowned by the pounding of my own pulse.

Up ahead, the peaceful orchard has turned into a bloody trap. Sweet red apples lie crushed in the dirt beneath heavy boots. A second arrow buries itself into the ground inches from my boot, but I don’t flinch.

Christian is already on his good knee, his sword drawn and gleaming beneath the harsh sun, a crimson stain spreading quickly down his trousers. Through the dust, half a dozen dark figures burst from the treeline—faceless, silent, and closing in fast.

He looks up at the sound of approaching hooves, expecting the enemy.

When his eyes meet mine, horror flashes across his face.

“Kelsea, no!” he roars.

But I’m already jumping from my horse.

I hit the ground hard beside him, barely keeping my balance as I hear the thunder of more horses approaching from behind.

Christian grabs my arm.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

“I came for you.”

“You need to leave!”

Another arrow cuts through the air.

Christian yanks me down just as it whistles over our heads and disappears into the branches behind us.

The enemy horses are getting closer.

I can hear them now—the pounding hooves, the creaking of leather, the shouts of men closing in from every direction.

Christian pushes himself upright, grimacing as he puts weight on his injured leg.

“You can’t fight like this,” I whisper.

His eyes stay locked on the treeline.

“I don’t need to.”

He raises his sword.

“I just need to buy you enough time to run.”

I stare at him.

Then I tighten my grip around my weapon.

“I’m not leaving you.”

“Kelsea—”

“I’m not leaving.”

For a heartbeat, neither of us moves.

Then a rider bursts through the trees.

Christian steps in front of me.

“Behind me.”

More riders appear.

One.

Two.

Four.

Too many.

Christian’s jaw tightens.

“Stay close.”

I move.

I throw myself directly in front of him, raising both hands as my voice tears through the chaos.

“We surrender!” I scream

The words ring across the orchard.

For one stunned second, everything seems to stop.

Christian goes completely still behind me.

I can feel the shock radiating from him.

Slowly, I lower my hands and let my bow slip from my fingers. My quiver follows, hitting the bloodied earth with a dull thud.

“Please,” I beg, my voice trembling but loud enough for every rider to hear. “Don’t kill us.”

The lead rider pulls sharply on his reins.

His horse stamps against the dirt, snorting as the others close in behind him.

I swallow hard.

“Take me instead,” I whisper. “Please… just leave him. He’s injured.”

Christian’s breath catches behind me.

“Kelsea..”

I don’t look back.

I can’t.

If I do, I might lose my nerve.

The lead rider slowly dismounts.

Leather creaks.

Armor shifts.

His boots sink into the soft earth as he walks toward me.

One measured step.

Then another.

Every instinct screams at me to run, but I stay exactly where I am.

He stops inches away.

His face is partially shadowed beneath dark hair, a jagged scar cutting across one cheekbone. His hazel eyes travel over me, cold and calculating.

“Why shouldn’t we kill you, princess?”

My stomach drops.

“Please…” Tears blur my vision.

The rider reaches for the dagger at his belt.

Christian suddenly moves behind me.

“Take me!”

His voice cracks through the silence.

The rider pauses.

Christian drags himself forward despite his injured leg, putting himself between the blade and me.

“Please,” he says again, his voice fierce. “Kill me instead.”

I stare at him in disbelief.

“Christian, no.”

He doesn’t even look at me.

“She has so much value to you , keep her and kill me.”

The scarred man’s expression falters.

His gaze moves between us.

Two captives.

Two people willing to sacrifice themselves for the other.

And suddenly, the orchard falls silent.

Heavy boots slam into the dirt as another figure leaps from a horse at the back of the line.

Fast, frantic footsteps tear through the silence.

“Don’t kill them!”

A woman’s voice screams across the orchard—raw, desperate, and filled with panic.

I snap my head toward the sound.

Through the settling dust, a woman comes charging toward us.

She is unlike anyone I have ever seen.

Dark hair, woven into intricate locks, cascades down her back as she runs. Sun-kissed skin is covered in elaborate tattoos, flowing along her arms and curling around her neck. Her wide brown eyes burn with fierce determination.

She doesn’t slow down.

She doesn’t seem to care that armed riders surround us.

She doesn’t even look at the scarred man standing inches from me with his dagger still drawn.

Her eyes are fixed on Christian.

“Christian!”

She throws herself into the dirt beside him.

Christian freezes.

Then his entire expression changes.

The fear that had hardened his face moments ago disappears, replaced by pure disbelief.

“Ana…”

His voice breaks.

“Ana? Anastasia?”

She grabs him, pulling him into her arms.

“Christian!”

He wraps his arms around her immediately, holding her tightly as though he can’t quite believe she’s real.

She buries her face against his shoulder, her breath shaking.

For a moment, they forget the riders.

Forget the weapons.

Forget me.

Forget everything.

I stand frozen, watching them.

Christian had looked death in the face without flinching.

But now?

His hands tremble against her back.

And I realize this woman isn’t just someone he knows.

She’s someone he thought he’d lost.

The scarred rider slowly lowers his dagger.

His gaze shifts from Christian to Anastasia, his expression becoming impossible to read.

“What is this?” he asks quietly.

Anastasia turns toward him, her brown eyes shining with unshed tears.

“ Xavier ,” she whispers. “He’s one of us.”

Her gaze drops to Christian’s injured leg.

Then her expression changes.

“He’s losing too much blood.”

She pushes herself to her feet.

“I need help. Now.”

The urgency in her voice snaps the riders into action.

“Get him into the carriage !” she orders. “Carefully. We need a healer immediately.”

Two riders dismount.

One pulls a wooden whistle from his belt and blows three sharp blasts.

The sound echoes through the orchard.

Within seconds, the trees rustle.

A dark wooden carriage emerges from the shadows, pulled by two heavy draft horses.

The men rush to Christian.

“Easy,” Anastasia says, dropping beside him again. “We’ve got you.”

They carefully lift him and carry him toward the carriage.

I move to follow.

A rider steps into my path.

I stop.

My eyes flick toward Christian.

Anastasia notices.

“She comes with us,” she says firmly.

The rider looks to scarred man”Xavier sir?”

For a long moment, Xavier says nothing.

Then his gaze settles on me.

“Let her through.”

I hurry toward the carriage.

Anastasia climbs inside beside Christian, immediately pressing a cloth against his wound.

I hesitate at the carriage door.

Xavier stands several feet away, watching me.

Anastasia looks over her shoulder.

“Kelsea right?.”

I look at her.

“Get in.”

I climb inside.

The carriage door slams shut.

And as the horses lurch forward, I realize I may have escaped one danger only to enter another.