You thrashed around on the horse you’d been hogtied to. You groaned as you tried to get loose, but got interrupted by a hit and a “Shut up, woman,” again.

After a few minutes, you heard galloping between your blackouts, and after a moment or two, you turned your head to see Charles’ figure on a large horse appear through the shadows cast by the trees.

“Hand her over.” Charles said in a stern, husky tone, aiming two revolvers at both the men escorting you.