Page 2 of Redemption

“You are a reckless fool,” she chastised him in a voice filled with agonized regret.

“It’s a family trait,” he rasped as pain slowly seeped its way across his back. He looked up at her and went rigid.

“Bloody hell, it’s you.” The tension in her body pulsed its way into his. He understood her fear. Murder, or even just accessory to the crime, carried a stiff penalty.

“How do you know me,” she whispered as her violet eyes widened with horror.

The dark purple hue of her eyes was even more beautiful than in his vision. His thoughts were suddenly cluttered with all manner of images. The fire at Westbrook Farms, his grieving family at the cemetery at Caleb’s and Devin’s funerals. Sebastian glaring at him. Patience’s bandaged face, Aunt Matilda with an expression of dismay on her lined features. One by one the faces of his family drifted past his eyes. They’d been through so much in the last four months. Now another Rockwood would be dead soon. The thought surprised him somehow. He was dying. He’d never actually believed his vision would have such a negative outcome. Percy had simply expected to be knocked unconscious, not shot. A violet gaze met his. Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears.

“I’m so sorry. This wasn’t supposed to happen.” The sorrow in her voice equaled the pain in her eyes.

“I don’t understand…my vision…” he mumbled as the pain intensified and continued its way across his back. He tried to move, but only managed to increase the searing pain slashing through him. Unable to help himself he closed his eyes and slumped deeper into her arms.

“Leave him.”

The harsh, uncultured voice penetrated the cloud of pain slowly pulling Percy under. Desperately, he fought to remain conscious. If he lived, he needed to remember the man’s voice and everything he could about this miserable incident.

“Why did you shoot him?” The woman’s question reverberated with a fierce anger. “You could have knocked him out like you did the guard.”

“Don’t matter none now, does it? The bloke is dead.”

“You’re a bastard, Ruckley.”

“So you keep saying, my poppet,” the man said in a salacious manner. It made Percy long to get up and pummel the son of a bitch until the man begged for mercy. The thought evaporated as pain tugged him closer to the abyss.

“I’m not your poppet or anything else.”

“Go easy now, dearie. We both know I have a soft spot for you, but unless you want the little ‘uns to suffer ye’ll let me call ye whatever I please.”

“One day I will kill you Ruckley.”

The anger and hopelessness in her voice was the last thing Percy heard as a yawning hole opened up. He struggled not to fall off the cliff into the darkness below. But it was the touch of a warm hand on his cheek that told him he had to live. She needed his help. It was the last thought sinking its way into his head before the black engulfed him.