27
The sound of pistols made Rosalind jump. She clutched her skirts and ran for the door, her brothers at her heels.
“Rosalind, stay behind us!” Brock ordered, but she wasn’t listening. If Hugo’s men were shooting out there, seven against one…
“Ashton!” she cried out as she grasped the iron handle of the wooden door that led outside. Her brothers all now held their slender but lethal blades in one hand and pistols in the other.
Brodie helped her pull the door open, and a scene of wild ferocity halted her in her tracks. Ashton’s friends were fighting men left and right. The clash of blades and fists made her sick. She was a strong woman, but no one handled bloodshed well when it was with those she’d come to care about. Her brothers dove into the fray, bellowing out ancient battle cries
