Page 53 of A Healer for the Wicked Highlander

Without another word, she took Abigail and Marissa’s hands and led them toward their chamber, her heart hammering in her chest. She held their hands close, because she couldn’t shake a strange feeling.

Everythin’ has changed. And nae for the better…

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Michael strode into the dungeons, his boots striking the stone floor with force, each step a barely restrained explosion of fury. The torches lining the damp corridor flickered wildly in the wake of his arrival, as if mocking him.

Leighton’s cell stood open.

Not broken, not forced.Unlocked.

Michael came to a sharp halt just outside the empty cell, his hands curling into fists at his sides. His jaw was clenched so tightly it ached, but he did not loosen it. Instead, he forced himself to take in every detail, every damning sign of betrayal.

Brodie stood a few paces away, watching him warily.

Michael turned slowly. “This wasnaean escape,” he said, his voice low and dangerous. “This was a release.”

Brodie exhaled sharply, mirroring his laird’s dark expression. “Aye. Someone helped the bastard.”

Michael stepped into the cell, his keen gaze sweeping over the space. The chains still hung from the wall, their iron clasps open. The straw on the floor was disturbed, but there were no signs of a struggle.

No broken lock. No shattered door.

Michael’s anger burned hotter. Someone had walked in here, set Leighton free, and led him straight out of his own damned castle.

Hiscastle.

Michael took a slow, measured breath. “We have a traitor.”

Brodie’s expression hardened. “Aye. And if they freed Leighton, they might do worse.”

Michael nodded grimly, his mind already racing ahead. If there were men that would go against his orders and free Leighton, that meant the danger wasn’t just outside his walls. No. It waswithin them. A man who would unlock this door, who would risk Michael’s wrath, was a man who had already chosen his side.

And that meant there could be others.

Michael turned abruptly, his patience frayed. “Double the guards. I want men at every entrance, every gate. None leave or enter without me word.”

Brodie nodded sharply. “Aye, I’ll see to it.”

Michael’s hands flexed at his sides, his fury a barely contained storm beneath his cold exterior. He had let Leighton live. Perhaps that had been his mistake.

But he would not make another.

His gaze swept over the open cell one last time, his eyes like steel.

Someone had let Leighton go.

Several minutes later, he was still standing in the torch-lit chamber. His arms were crossed over at his chest, and his expression was like carved stone. The two men who had been assigned to guard Leighton’s cell stood before him, shifting uneasily under the weight of his gaze.

They were both seasoned warriors, men who had served him for years. But now, faced with his fury, they looked like cornered beasts, tense and wary, their eyes flicking toward Brodie as if hoping for some reprieve.

They would find none.

Michael’s voice was quiet, but the force behind it was unmistakable. “Tell me what happened.”

The first guard, Dougal, swallowed hard. “Me laird, we—we daenae ken how it happened. The door was locked last we checked.”

Michael’s jaw tightened. “Ye checked? When?”