Chapter Text
Chapter One
“You cannot be bloody serious.” Killian’s eyes jumped from the order in his hands to his brother’s face. “They’re sending her here?”
“This is the only prison within Misthaven County,” Liam reminded him, seemingly unperturbed by the proclamation that a woman, who had just been found guilty of manslaughter and sentenced to serve five years for the crime against her husband, would be housed within the stone walls he was charged with overseeing as warden.
Killian shook his head and tossed the missive onto the imposing mahogany desk in front of him. “This is madness,” he said, running a hand through his hair while trying to grapple with the logistical nightmare the magistrate had set upon them. “Her presence will cause chaos among the other prisoners, to say nothing of how she will affect the guards.”
“I see no reason why her incarceration here should cause such disastrous waves of which you seem concerned.”
Killian stared slack jawed at his brother, who had resumed his seat and began scratching quill to parchment. “Brother,” Killian began with an incredulous tone once he again found his voice, “We are not equipped to see to the needs of a woman here, especially one who is with child.”
“We will see to her needs as we do the men under our supervision. However,” Liam held up his hand to stay his brother’s protest, “I recognize that a few concessions will be necessary in order to ensure her safety and well-being whilst she is here.” Setting the ink he had just finished applying to the page, Liam stood and handed the paper to Killian. “As Captain of the Guard, I entrust these added measures into your authority. See to it the other guards are aware of my instructions and that they are upheld.”
Killian grit his teeth, but held his tongue. He knew a dismissal when it was issued, and though Liam was his older brother, he was also the prison warden and Killian’s superior. Positions Killian respected, even if he did think his brother was being purposefully obtuse about the reality of the circumstance about to befall them.
Upon exiting his brother’s office and returning to his own, Killian settled himself in his desk chair and read over the principles by which Liam would have them all handle the presence of Mrs. Cassidy. Pinching the bridge of his nose, Killian released a long sigh before glancing out the window that looked across the open corridor to the upper level cells that stood adjacent to the officers’ wing. From where he sat, Killian had a clear view around the corner to the secluded stretch where lay the cell Liam had determined would house the infamous ax-murderess.
The story had been front page news for months. Scandalous details of a married woman of low birth and limited means murdering her husband; hatcheting him to death in order to save her own life and that of her unborn child - or so she claimed. No evidence to support her allegations of abuse had been presented during the trial when neighbors and members of the man’s family had come forward with their testimonies of character, painting the victim in portraits of virtue while his wife was further vilified. In the end, it was the fact that Mrs. Cassidy was with child that had saved her from a verdict of murder in the first degree, a judgment that carried the death penalty for men and women alike. As an act of mercy, a lesser charge was issued, one that spared her life but now made her Killian's problem to contend with.
And she would most certainly be a problem.
Keeping order within the prison was a challenge on the best of days. They were woefully underfunded and understaffed. Though not as deplorable in condition as other prisons Killian had seen, Misthaven Penitentiary had always relied on the charity of the local convent to see them through hard times. With its closing earlier in the year, and the nuns dispersed to other parishes, Killian was not sure how they would fare in the upcoming winter. To say nothing of how they’d fare having an inmate of the fairer sex within their midst.
A scoff of scorn erupted from the back of Killian’s throat when he read back over his brother’s edict. No man shall enter Mrs. Cassidy’s cell for any reason, lest it be a matter of life or death. Liam was a damn fool if he thought such a decree would dissuade some of the more… unsavory members of their guard from the temptation the woman would present, and it would be left to Killian to maintain order and discipline, not just from the sentenced population, but from his own men. A task he was not relishing in the slightest. Nor was he overjoyed by his brother’s commands that essentially made him her own personal jailor, a notion which left him with a sour taste in his mouth and equally unpleasant sensation in his gut.
Checking the time on his pocket watch, Killian stood and made himself presentable for the shift change. Liam would be addressing the whole of their guard staff, informing them of the impending arrival of Mrs. Cassidy, as well as a dozen or so other new inmates to follow, which meant longer shifts would be required in order to make the necessary preparations. Killian’s hopes of spending some time along the coast while the autumn weather was still agreeable were well and truly snuffed out, much like the desk candle he extinguished before leaving his office.
~/~
“Mrs. Cassidy, I am Liam Jones, Warden here at Misthaven Penitentiary, and this is my Captain of the Guard, Killian Jones.”
Killian gave the woman a curt nod and tried to focus his attention on the words Liam was speaking. Not that he really needed to. It was the same speech he gave to every other inmate who passed through their doors. Albeit, no other inmate had ever had the privilege of receiving these remarks within the warden’s own office. A change in protocol that further iterated how remarkable a situation they all faced.
Remarkable. Yes. Such a designation seemed apt as Killian took in the woman before him. He was not sure what he had expected of Mrs. Cassidy, but the thin-framed young woman before him certainly was not it. She couldn’t have been more than twenty years old, and only reached his chin. Though she had to be petrified of what lay ahead, her countenance betrayed none of her trepidations. Standing stiff-backed with her head held high, she struck Killian as a tough lass. Tough and bloody beautiful to boot.
His job just got a whole lot harder.
A small grimace passed over her features when she turned back towards the door, having been dismissed by the warden and ready to be led to her cell. Her delicate hands clenched and released, the red welts from the shackles clasped around her wrists stood out in stark contrast to her pale skin. Killian ground his teeth together, a response he’d involuntarily given into a number of times since seeing her disembark from the prison wagon with chains binding her wrists and ankles. It was standard procedure when transporting prisoners, but Killian could barely stomach the sight of those restraints on a woman, regardless of her crime.
Escorted by his fellow guardsman, Robin, Killian marched his prisoner along the corridor towards the catwalk that allowed them to cross over to the other side of the upper level. While passing the manned cells, Killian did his best to shield Mrs. Cassidy from the other prisoners’ view, but it didn’t stop a few taunts and lewd comments thrown her way by one of the more hardened inmates. Pulling his baton from where it rested at his hip, Killian slammed it against the bars as a warning.
“You’d best hold your tongue, before I remove it,” Killian said in a hushed, menacing tone that matched the look he stared the man down with until the perpetrator backed away.
Out of instinct, Killian reached out to grasp the woman’s arm in order to prompt her forward, but retracted his hand when he saw her flinch. He had to bite down on his tongue to keep from apologizing, reminding himself she was just another prisoner and had to be treated as such in order to maintain the necessary balance required for order and discipline within the prison.
They made their way across the catwalk, down the opposite side, and around the corner to her cell without further incident. Robin unlocked the cell door, swinging it wide, while Killian knelt down to remove the shackles around her ankles. The length and layers of her skirts made it difficult to locate the keyhole on the first side, until they suddenly hitched up, revealing her boots and metal irons surrounding them. Killian flicked his eyes up to see Mrs. Cassidy had bunched the fabric up in her hands in order to make the work easier for him, and he was once again tempted to break protocol, swallowing back the thank you that threatened to slip out.
Once her leg irons were removed and handed off to Robin, Killian gestured her inside the cell and closed the door behind her with a loud, jarring clang, causing her to flinch once more.
“Hands,” he ordered. His tone was a bit harsher than he meant it to be, so he was thankful when she slipped her hands between the bars without hesitation.
Like the shackles at her ankles, Killian made quick work of the restraints around her wrists. Anger flared within him at the sight of the red, raw skin revealed beneath the heavy metal, and this time he could not hold back the apology slipping past his lips when a hiss escaped her from the fresh air stinging the open wounds.
“I will have a salve brought to you that will help with those,” Killian told her, passing the wrist restraints off to Robin, who nodded his understanding of the implied order before heading back towards the officers’ station.
“That isn’t necessary,” the woman replied, gingerly rubbing the skin surrounding the welts and sores.
“It’s standard procedure,” Killian informed her, lest she think he was offering her special treatment. “As the warden mentioned, meals will be brought up for you to eat in your cell. Your dinner should arrive within the hour. Have you any questions, Mrs. Cassidy?”
“Emma,” she replied sharply.
“I beg your pardon?”
She sighed and set her features with a firm resolve. “I do not wish to be addressed as Mrs. Cassidy. Please, call me Emma.”
“I am afraid that will not be possible,” Killian told her, attempting to keep the sympathy out of his voice. “My brother feels such familiarity would be inappropriate.”
“Your brother?”
Killian bit back a curse at the carelessness of his words. “I meant, the warden,” he corrected.
“Right,” she nodded. “Jones. I should have realized the connection.” Robin returned and handed the jar of salve and a square of clean linen to her through the bars, which she accepted with a timid thank you. “How should I address you and the other guards if I have need?”
“You may address the guards as Officer, or include that title with their surname.” Killian gestured to Robin. “For instance, this is Officer Locksley.”
Robin offered her a polite nod which she returned before flicking her gaze back to Killian. “And you?”
Killian swallowed past a lump of something unexpected that had formed in his throat when her eyes locked with his. “Captain,” he managed to clip out. “You may call me Captain or Captain Jones.”
Giving him a similar nod of acknowledgement as she had Robin, she backed away and headed over to the narrow bunk affixed to the wall. Settling herself onto the thin mattress, she turned her attention to applying the salve to her wounds. The clearing of a throat snapped Killian’s focus back to Robin who was side eyeing him with a knowing smirk.
With a tsk sounding off his tongue, Killian brushed past him with a muttered, “Don’t you have duties to see to?”
He could feel the Cheshire cat-like grin plastered on his mate’s face following him all the way back to his office, further cementing Killian’s earlier assessment.
Mrs. Cassidy’s presence was sure to bring him nothing but trouble.
~/~
“Quite a looker, isn’t she?” Killian heard one of the guardsmen comment in the officers’ breakroom the following morning as he came off the nightshift.
“Wasn’t expecting her to be such a beauty,” Walsh continued, crudely. “And with her already being in the family way… it could give a man ideas.”
Killian stormed into the room and grabbed the officer by the lapels of his uniform. “Such ideas had better not be entertained any further,” he seethed into the man’s shocked face. “Your warden has made his orders on the matter quite clear, and I will not hesitate to dispense the necessary punishments should they be ignored. Understood?”
“Y-Yes, Captain,” Walsh stammered, stumbling backward after Killian released his hold of him.
Catching the eyes of other men present, Killian only departed once he had their vow as well. Fatigue from the long night and the added collective tension that had permeated the dark hours within the prison from the simple knowledge a woman slept within their midst hung heavy along Killian’s shoulders. Grateful that Robin had volunteered to oversee the shift change, Killian deposited his daily report onto his brother’s desk then made his way back towards the prison entrance, eager for his bed and the rest it might provide him before he had to return that evening.
Those plans were quickly thwarted by the arrival of his sister-in-law.
“Elsa?”
“Oh, good! I was hoping to catch you before you left.”
Breezing past him, she waited just inside the massive doorway, looking at him expectantly over her shoulder, knowing she needed an escort before proceeding further. Letting go a long-suffering sigh, Killian followed his sister-in-law back into the prison and up to his office.
“Does Liam know you are here?”
“Liam is checking in with the magistrate about the rest of the prisoners being transferred,” she replied while sinking into the chair in front of his desk.
Killian sighed again at her non-answer. “So you thought you’d take the opportunity to drop in on your brother-in-law?” he quipped with a dose of impudence. “Very kind of you lass, but I’ve had something of a long night.”
“Yes. I would imagine your newest addition would make for a difficult shift. Which is why I am here.”
Elsa sat in silence while Killian blinked several times, attempting to piece together what her visit this morning had to do with their new inmate.
Rolling her eyes, it was Elsa’s turn to release a dramatic sigh. “I am a midwife, Killian,” she reminded him. “I’ve come to offer my services to Mrs. Cassidy and her unborn child.”
“Has Liam agreed to that?”
“We discussed the matter.”
“That’s not an answer, Elsa.”
Throwing up her hands in exasperation, Elsa stood and began pacing the office. “You know how your brother can be.”
Indeed he did. “You mean pompous? Self-righteous? A stubborn arse?”
Elsa smothered a laugh and cast a look at her brother-in-law which confirmed that was exactly what she meant, though Killian knew she’d never actually voice such thoughts.
Squaring her shoulders, her expression became insistent once more. “I only wish to visit Mrs. Cassidy. I believe prisoners are allowed visitors, are they not?”
Killian scrubbed a hand down his face and exhaled heavily. Too weary to truly go toe-to-toe with his brother’s wife, Killian breathed out a resigned “Aye” and proceeded to smarten up his appearance.
It seemed his shift was not yet over.
After informing the day guards of Mrs. Jones’ visit, Killian escorted Elsa to Mrs. Cassidy’s cell. Many of the prisoners were still asleep, the morning roll not yet signaled, so the stroll across the prison was, thankfully, an uneventful one. Although, most of their charges knew better than to even cast a wandering eye in the direction of their warden’s wife.
Concerned for a moment that Mrs. Cassidy might also still be abed, Killian was relieved to see her already sitting upright in her bunk with a heavy tome in her lap. Each inmate upon arrival received their own Bible, one of the few personal items they were allowed. Killian watched for a moment as the woman’s delicate fingers gently turned page after page as she idly skimmed through the text before clearing his throat to alert her of their presence.
“Mrs. Cassidy?”
A petulant Emma was tossed back from under her breath, but her eyes did not leave the onion skin pages she continued to turn. Elsa caught Killian’s eye, and she raised a questioning brow that he brushed off with a slight shake of his head.
“Mrs. Cassidy, you have a visitor.”
That caught the lass’ attention. Snapping the Bible shut, she set it aside and stood from her bed, clearly unsure as to whether she should approach the bars until Killian waved her forward.
“Mrs. Cassidy,” Elsa greeted, and Killian was sure his sister-in-law had not missed the grimace that crossed the younger woman’s face. “I’m Elsa Jones, Warden Jones’ wife.”
Mrs. Cassidy took another step forward to accept the hand Elsa had extended through the bars, shaking it tentatively. Before she could take her hand away, Elsa pulled her closer in order to examine the wounds she had noticed on the woman’s wrist.
“Dear me, that looks rather painful.” Without letting go of the woman’s hand, Elsa rounded on Killian. “Do you not have anything that might help with this?”
“They gave me a salve,” Mrs. Cassidy informed her before Killian could get the words out. “Please, do not concern yourself with it, Mrs. Jones.”
“I most certainly will concern myself,” Elsa retorted, the bite in her words directed at Killian, who received a withering look before she turned her attention back to Mrs. Cassidy with a gentler tone and expression. “I’m a midwife, you see. I was hoping you might agree to letting me attend to you whilst in your condition.”
The woman’s mouth fell open, momentarily frozen in a clear state of shock before she managed to reply. “That’s, uh… that’s very kind of you, Mrs. Jones, but I have no way of paying you for such a service.”
Finally relinquishing the woman’s hand, Elsa waved off her concern. “No need to worry about that. I am happy to see to you and your baby’s needs without compensation. It seems only right considering the circumstances.”
Killian noted a tint of pink blooming across Mrs. Cassidy’s cheeks, and for the first time that morning he took a moment to truly take in the woman’s appearance. Her long blonde hair hung limply as it had the day before. Without the threadbare shawl she’d arrived in wrapped tightly around her shoulders, he could now make out the tell tale swell of her abdomen beneath her dress; a feature that would only grow more prominent over the coming months. Her eyes were red rimmed and swollen from tears she must have shed overnight, with dark circles etching themselves deep within her porcelain complexion. Yet, as bedraggled and pitiful as she appeared, standing in a dank stone cell meant to snuff out all hope with its oppressive walls and taunting bars, Killian could see past the grime and misery to the fierce, beautiful lass beneath.
Fierce, beautiful, but vulnerable and wounded as well. Killian could see that clearly enough.
“Killian, if you would be so kind as to unlock the door.” Elsa’s request snapped Killian’s attention back to the current circumstance, and though he knew he’d likely catch hell for it, he acquiesced to Elsa’s request, stationing himself just outside the open cell while Elsa entered to examine her charge. For if he were truly honest with himself, Killian knew Mrs. Cassidy would need care none of the guards were equipped to provide, and he was grateful for Elsa’s willingness to share her expertise.
“If you’d be good enough to turn round,” Elsa stated to Killian when she'd settled herself and Emma on the bunk. “I think Mrs. Cassidy would appreciate a bit of privacy whilst I examine her.”
Heat rushed up Killian’s neck, pooling at his cheeks and inflaming the tips of his ears. With his back turned, he tried to focus his attention on anything other than the rustling sounds of clothing being repositioned or discarded while images he had no business considering threatened to invade his mind’s eye. He blamed his exhaustion for the lack of control he was having over his body’s natural response to such stimuli, and bit the inside of his cheek to keep his ardor from expanding any further within his uniformed trousers.
Mercifully, Elsa’s examination of the woman was over quickly, but her subsequent inquiries brought with them fresh complications.
“What sort of provisions have you established for her bathing and exercise needs?” Elsa asked.
Honestly, Killian hadn’t given it much thought past the acknowledgement that such issues would need addressing.
“And surely you plan to serve her something other than the gruel you provide to the other inmates,” she continued on. “That simply will not do to meet her nutritional needs.”
“We are limited on funds,” Killian reminded her. “And giving an inmate special treatment with foodstuffs not available to the masses would cause issues within the population. We are also understaffed,” he continued, thwarting the retort he knew she was about to throw at him. “Which complicates how we might schedule separate yard time in order to keep her segregated from the male prisoners. We’re spread thin enough as it is, and--” he stopped himself from voicing the other reason as to why he was having difficulty arranging time outside the prison and a proper bath for Mrs. Cassidy.
How to do so without causing a greater temptation for his men.
Walks along the grounds would require an escort, but a single guard escorting a lone woman under his authority seemed fraught with disastrous potential, and he did not have the man power to issue two guards for the task, so one might deter the other in any untoward behaviour. Not to mention the fact there was no guarantee a second man would act as a deterrent and not simply become complicit to the unmentionable acts Killian feared could befall Mrs. Cassidy. How could he even arrange for the woman to have a proper bath without risk to her person if he couldn’t trust his men with the simple task of a walk?
Fortunately, Elsa’s expression when she stood before him once more told him she’d already considered the obstacles he was facing without him having to voice them.
“Perhaps, it would make things easier for you, and the other guards’ schedules, if Mrs. Cassidy had another woman to accompany her during her exercise time?”
Killian’s brows pinched together. “She would still need a guard to escort her.”
“Yes, and seeing as how you are technically off duty, your presence while Mrs. Cassidy and I go for a morning stroll will in no way inconvenience the other guards or inmates’ schedule.”
Killian rolled his eyes and bit back a curse at the way she had masterfully played him. “Fine,” he responded in a clipped tone while securing the cell door. “I’ll go inform the shift chief and return for you both momentarily.”
Although he could only meet Elsa’s overly pleased and slightly smug smile with a hardened look of disgruntlement, he couldn’t really bring himself to be truly put out with her.
Following a pace or two behind the women as they meandered through the yard that lay outside the prison proper, but still within the fortified walls, Killian was privy to the conversation that floated between them. Eavesdropping on conversations between inmates and visitors, or between fellow inmates was a common and necessary practice for the guards, yet Killian couldn’t help but feel uneasy about the intrusion as the women seemed to settle into a comfortable discourse.
“I cannot thank you enough for this kindness, Mrs. Jones.”
“Please. Call me Elsa. Given how intimately we are to be acquainted over the course of the next several months, I see no reason for such formality.” Quickly, she flicked her gaze over her shoulder to Killian before proceeding. “May I call you Emma?” Perhaps already knowing her husband’s orders, and most likely sensing Killian’s conditioned response to uphold the warden’s edicts, Elsa barrelled on. “I know my husband has forbidden the guards to address you so informally, and for good reason, but I do not think we need worry about keeping such honorifics between the two of us, do you?”
It was Mrs. Cassidy’s turn to sneak a glance over her shoulder, assessing Killian’s demeanor with her bottom lip tightly gripped between her teeth.
He really wished she wouldn’t do that.
“I’d like that, thank you,” she murmured softly, tucking a section of her hair behind her ear as Elsa threaded her arm through the crook of the woman’s elbow.
“Wonderful! Now why don’t you tell me a little bit about yourself. Where are you from originally?”
Though it took a bit of gentle prying, Elsa managed to get the woman to open up. She was born an orphan, abandoned at birth and left on the steps of the now closed Misthaven Convent. Raised by the nuns, her upbringing had been strict, but it seemed she had known some kindness from a few of the devout women who had been tasked with her care, as well as a groundskeeper she spoke of with fondness. She left the convent in her teenage years, hired by a local family to serve in their kitchens. She had hoped to work her way up through the ranks of domesticated service, but all that changed when she met Neal Cassidy.
He had been a friend of the family she served, and he had begun to pursue her the moment they met behind the kitchens one afternoon. Theirs had been a quick courtship, and before she could even begin to process the whirlwind, he had proposed. Given her limited means and options, and truly believing he loved her when no one else had ever shown her such affection in her life, the decision to accept had been an easy one. What had come afterward, however… well, she didn’t say much on that topic, and Elsa quickly steered the conversation in a new direction.
“I would estimate you to be about five months gone, with the arrival of your baby expected sometime in early February,” Elsa informed her. “Does that sound about right?”
Mrs. Cassidy nodded. “What happens afterward?”
“What do you mean?”
“With… with the baby.” Killian could see the tension in her shoulders as easily as he could hear it in her strained tone. “With the convent no longer operating, and my sentence being… What will happen to the baby?”
Elsa looked back at Killian who could only offer a shrug of his shoulders. If a decision had already been made about the fate of the child once it was born, he knew nothing of it.
“What do you hope will happen?” Elsa asked, halting their steps in order to take both of Mrs. Cassidy’s hands into her own.
“I…” Worrying her lip once again, the tears that pooled in her eyes made Killian’s chest tighten. “I just want to give him his best chance.”
“Him?”
Demurely, she shrugged her shoulders and shook her head. “It’s just a feeling.”
“Well.” Elsa threaded their arms together once more and led them back toward the path up to the prison. “We’ll just have to see what we can do to ensure he gets it.”
~/~
Killian had known there would be hell to pay when his brother learned of his wife’s visit, and Killian’s subsequent compliance in her scheme to gain access to their newest prisoner. That did not mean he was truly prepared for his brother’s explosive ire once they’d secured Mrs. Cassidy in her cell and reported to his office.
“She’s a murderess, Elsa!” Liam shouted. “She killed her husband. With an axe!”
Knowing the sound of their argument would carry beyond the firmly closed door, Killian warred with himself as he stood at attention in the center of the warden’s office as to whether he should remind the quarreling couple of this fact. His brother’s mottled complexion, as well as the throbbing vein at his temple, had him wisely holding his tongue.
“If she hadn’t, he would have killed her! She is an abuse victim, Liam, not a cold-blooded killer.”
“So she says,” Liam scoffed.
“No. So I say.” Perhaps finally realizing the implications of their volume, Elsa took a deep breath and lowered her voice. Taking a step forward, she turned earnest eyes up towards her husband’s. “I’ve seen the marks he left on her, Liam. Scars not so dissimilar to the ones your father left on you.” Elsa flicked her eyes to Killian. A prickling heat erupted along the back of his neck in response to her knowing glance when she added, “And you, I dare say.”
Silence descended upon the room as they all took a moment to let that revelation sink in.
“As far as I’m concerned,” she continued with a fresh resolve set in her tone and increasingly rigid posture, “the man got what he deserved. However, let’s consider the matter another way.” Stepping back, Elsa resumed her seat and demurely folded her hands in her lap. “Mrs. Cassidy was shown mercy for the sake of her unborn child. How do you think the public will respond should she lose that child due to the conditions she is currently facing? She isn’t just another inmate, Liam. She is a pregnant woman who will require special provisions in order to ensure her well-being and that of the child she carries.”
Killian recognized the slouch of his brother’s shoulders and the way he ran a hand over his face; he had been bested, and he knew it.
“Very well,” Liam relented, reclaiming his own seat. “What do you suggest?”
~/~
Killian trudged back up the prison steps later that evening. Elsa’s proclamations had kept him at the prison until well past midday, robbing him of precious hours of sleep. He would likely need more than his rationed amount of coffee in order to make it through another long night shift.
With the evening roll call completed, the lanterns lowered for the night, and the shift change overseen, Killian busied himself in his office, reviewing the notes he’d taken earlier while Robin took the first patrol. As he had suspected, a good dose of caffeine would be required to get him through the first drag he began to feel pulling at his eyelids, so he made his way to the officers’ breakroom to begin brewing his ration of coffee. It was here that Robin found him sometime later.
Looking about, his first officer inquired, “Where’s Walsh?”
Cocking his head to one side, Killian reminded, “Walsh is on days. He left for the barrack ages ago.”
“No. I saw him come back just now while I was finishing my rounds. I assumed he’d left something behind. He couldn’t have exited without my notice.”
A sense of dread washed over Killian, and he sprang from his chair, rushing from the room with a near certain estimation as to the man’s intent. With Robin quick on his heels, their frenzied actions sparked curiosity from the inmates, who began frantically calling out into the night. Not wishing for them to start a panic, Killian ordered Robin to handle the situation as he continued to sprint towards the stairs.
By the time Killian rounded the corner that led to her cell, Walsh already had the door open with his pistol drawn, warning the woman to keep quiet. Pulling his own pistol from his belt, Killian cocked the weapon and aimed it at Walsh before he could step foot inside her cell.
“Not another step,” Killian ordered. “And drop the weapon.”
Walsh spun on the spot to face Killian, his pistol lowering when he realized it was his captain who had issued the command.
“Step away and close the cell door.” Killian took a purposeful step forward, his pistol still aimed at the man’s chest.
“Come now, Jones,” Walsh replied with a sickening smirk. “Being a bit greedy, aren’t you? I imagine you and Locksley had your fill of her last night, seems only fair for the rest of us to get a turn.”
Killian heard a disgusted sound emanate from the cell, but even the woman’s revulsion could not keep the tinge of fear from his hearing. A quiver of fright that made Killian’s blood boil as he grit his teeth and took another step forward.
“I said step away,” he growled. “I will not tell you again.”
Before either man could respond, Killian saw movement in his periphery. Pale arms shot out and shoved Walsh backward, then yanked the heavy iron door shut before wrenching the key from the lock and pulling it back through the bars.
“You little bitch!” Walsh exclaimed, his pistol swinging towards the cell as he tried to regain his footing.
Killian launched himself at the man, the two wrestling with one another as they grappled for one of the pistols that had fallen out of each of their hands upon impact.
“Are you mad, Jones?” Walsh croaked when Killian finally managed to hoist him off the floor and slam him against the wall, his forearm braced over the man’s throat. “She has the key. That’s an attempt to escape!”
A metallic ping echoed off the stone floor and both men glanced down to find the iron key laying beside their boots where the woman had tossed it back out of the cell.
Clever lass.
Killian cocked a brow at Walsh and cheekily quipped, “You were saying?” He wasn’t about to let the odious man reply, however. Adding a bit more pressure to Walsh’s windpipe, Killian sneered, “You are relieved of your duty, officer. Present yourself before the warden tomorrow morning for your official dismissal.”
Killian stepped back and released Walsh, but not before leaning in with one last crushing force against his throat that left the man in a fit of dry coughs. Robin, having settled the disturbance on the lower level, arrived in time to relieve Walsh of his keys and weapons before escorting him out of the prison on his captain’s orders.
Killian took a moment to get his anger under control, running his hands through his hair a few times before finally straightening his jacket and locating his pistol, which still lay on the cold stone floor. After securing it back into the holster at his hip, and pocketing the cell key he also retrieved, he let out a heavy exhale and started towards his office to begin the paperwork Liam would require in order to terminate Walsh’s position as a prison guard. He hadn’t taken more than a couple of steps when a hand reached out through the bars and grabbed onto his arm.
“Th-Thank you,” she stammered, attempting to keep her voice steady, but failing under the barrage of emotions Killian could only imagine she was feeling.
Raising his eyes from her hand, still clutched around his bicep, he met her gaze and asked, “Are you alright?”
She nodded her head, but Killian could see a trembling course its way over her form. Killian wasn’t sure what came over him, but he found himself covering her hand with his own. A protective instinct he had been trying to bury ever since she’d stepped out of the wagon came rushing to the surface of his own emotional state.
“I swear to you, Mrs. Cassidy. No harm will come to you whilst I am in charge.”
“Please. Please don’t call me that,” she sobbed. Twin tears escaped the confines of her lashes and slid down her cheeks in tandem.
Killian shut his eyes, tension flickering through the muscle at his jaw as he silently cursed his brother’s sense of propriety and good form. “What was your name before?” Killian asked in a moment of inspiration. “Your maiden name?”
“Swan… Emma Swan,” she replied with a look of perplexity upon her brow.
Giving her hand one last squeeze, he gently removed it from his arm and bid, “I suggest you try and get some rest… Miss Swan.”