Annie's POV:
Finally, I fell to my knees, my body stiff as a board.
"Oh, look at that." The rogue's voice went soft with pleasure. "The great tracker of Thornwood, on her knees in the dirt. If Louis could see you now."
I clenched my fists in the grass, letting the blades cut into the palms of my hands; the pain kept me alert, preventing my mind from being consumed by images of my son in his clutches.
"He died on his feet, you know," the rogue said.
"Your Louis. He held the line and died on his feet, and the boys who threw him off the cliff still talk about it. And here's his widow, on her knees, begging a rogue. He'd be so proud of you."
"Please." My voice came out steady. I made it steady.
"I beg you. Spare my son. He's five years old. He doesn't know anything. Please."
"Louder."
