"Stay with me, doll," John whispered, shaking your head gently as he cut you free from your bonds. The one day he hadn't been at camp you'd been kidnapped by the O'Driscolls and hurt. He was trying to ignore the amount of blood on the floor of the cellar, or on your clothes. His heart panged as he eased you into his arms, his breaths ragged and panicked.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there, baby, I'm so sorry," John whispered, cradling you in his lap and pulling open your shirt so he could start wrapping wounds. He didn't want you to bleed out on the ride back to camp. "I've got you, I've got you now, sweetheart," John whispered, kissing your cheek gently and stuffing cotton into your cuts and wounds.

He'd already scared off the rest of the O'Driscolls at the camp, Dutch and Arthur were raiding the supplies they'd left behind, and John had run into the cellar where you were being kept like a madman. "Stay awake, okay? We'll take you back to camp, Mrs. Grimshaw will take care of you, Karen'll keep you company, hell I'll watch you too."

John stood up with your battered body in his arms, gently kissing your forehead as he carried you over to his horse, "Keep those beautiful eyes open. Don't you dare close them, talk to me, and don't stop," he sat you up carefully on the saddle before settling behind you and pulling you into his chest, "You're safe."