The clopping of the stallion's hooves echoed like war drums as Merrick raced down the cobblestone street. Porto Bello's terror-stricken residents darted a haphazard trail, running for their lives, forcing him to drive a chaotic path between them. A man burst into the street. Merrick jerked the reins and nearly struck a woman carrying a baby. The horse bucked. A load of pots, clothes, and tools flew from the man's arms, falling to the street with clanks and thuds. The woman screamed. Charlisse shrieked as Merrick tried to control the rattled horse. The man scurried to get his things, grabbed the woman's hand, then glared at Merrick before darting into the darkness.
A volley of musket shot saturated the air. Merrick nudged the horse and drew Charlisse close before the stallion bolted into a gallop. He felt a tremble run through his wife. He hated that she was afraid. He hated that he had put her in danger. And he determined to let no harm come to hernot tonight and not ever.