Betty's POV. 

The trees became a blur as dark streaks against the darker sky, rain turning everything into watercolour chaos. 

My thighs burned from gripping the saddle, my hands raw where the reins bit into already damaged skin. But I didn't slow down.

Marcus had bought us time with his blood. Maybe his life.

The thought twisted like a knife in my gut, but I shoved it down. Later. I could break later. Right now, I have to move.

"There!" Claire’s voice cut through the pounding hooves ...