Disclaimer: This chapter is longer than usual. It also contains violence including, attempted sexual assault. The subject matter may be triggering, and I found it important to tell all of you before you started reading.

They figured out rather quickly that the English were not as near as they had thought. The soldiers had moved at expert speed to get their prisoner back to Fort William for questioning. Jamie and the others didn't make it to the fort until sunset. The men found themselves hidden in the tall grass on the outskirts of trees which faced the English camp. As they waited for the sun to go down, they discussed how to get Molly out of there. Though, Murtagh had become noticeably quiet. The man who was always there to give Jamie council had nothing to say nor add. He just listened and waited to be told what to do. Murtagh's eyes peered across the field at the stone building hovering over them. His thoughts were with Molly, and the more he found himself fixating on the possible things happening to her in that very moment, the harder it was becoming for him to control his temper. He could feel it in his chest like a white-hot firestorm.

"How do we know that she isn't sitting in a prison cell?" Dougal asked suddenly. His stare darted over to Jamie. The War Chieftain's attitude had changed since they found themselves sitting outside of the fort. It wasn't so much fear of getting caught as it was him worried that Molly had been spilling her guts to the enemy while trapped inside.

Angus was quick to interrupt, "No, that Randall said he wanted to question her. I heard it with my own ears."

"That's what I fear." The War Chieftain finally admitted out loud. "She could have told them everything, and we are about to walk into an ambush." Dougal's prejudice towards Molly hadn't gone ignored by any of them, Murtagh in particular.

Murtagh's body tensed up at Dougal's accusation. Lowering his chin, he turned to the other male with furrowed brows, "No, Molly wouldn't do that." he explained as calmly as he could.

"How do ye know that?" Dougal questioned.

"Cause I know!" Murtagh snapped.

"What's gotten into ye? Getting yourself worked up over some lass ye barely know. Acting as if you love her." Dougal provoked. Though, the lack of response from his friend said more to him than Murtagh probably wanted. The man had a way of looking at the woman a little too long for them to be just friends.

"I know enough," Murtagh responded after taking his gaze off of Dougal.

Jamie quickly stepped in, not wanting things to get more heated between them than they already were. "That's enough." He warned both men. Placing a hand on Murtagh's shoulder, he turned to face him, "We will get her back." He offered in reassurance. Jamie understood, better than anybody, how much Molly meant to his Godfather. There had been shared conversations that happened in secrecy between them, much of which included Murtagh's fondness towards their friend. However, as sure as he was that they would get Molly back, his mind wandered to a dark and private memory he had kept stored away. Jamie thought about how Randall dragged his sister off to do sinful acts. It made him worry about the state Molly would be in when they found her.

"Where do ye think he's keeping her?" Rupert asked, breaking his silence.

The question was enough to pull Jamie from his thoughts. Raking his fingers through his mop of hair, Jamie scanned the fort until finding something that caught his eye. "There." He pointed to the only window that seemed to have any light shining from it. The sun had fully set, and the lack of activity around the building made him believe many of the soldiers were resting. If they were lucky, the soldiers on duty were in the middle of a shift change. Moving swiftly to his feet, Jamie motioned for the others to follow, "I have an idea."

"I ask you now, what is it all for?"

"For Scotland." Molly managed to get out through shaky words. Her stare pulled from Randalls and moved to the tabletop. Her loyalty would conjure up severe consequences that she knew. Randall kept his silence as he leaned back in his chair. The captain reached out, slowly tapping his fingertips against the solid table, filling the silence now built between them. The air was heavy, matching the darkness engulfing the room. He was uncomfortably silent as he watched her, no doubt planning what to do next.

As desperation began to fall upon Molly, her mind started to race against time wondering, how she could get herself out of this situation. It felt like an impossible feat. She kept her eyes on the table, staring at the scattered papers, and then she saw it resting so carefree next to Randall's hand, a letter opener. Her heart pounded against her chest as she fell into a cold sweat. She was not a violent person, but she would do what she had to. Suddenly, Randall's hand stopped moving and fell on top of the paper tool. It was as if he knew what she was thinking. Regrettably, she looked up at Randall as he pushed the letter opener closer to him.

"Don't get any ideas." He warned, immediately throwing the item across the room from Molly's reach.

It was too late. Molly had plenty of ideas. She took a hard swallow; her mouth fell open slightly as if she was going to speak, but alternatively, Molly shot up, using all the strength she could muster, pushing Randall back in his chair. The act was quick and caught the man off guard while he fought to keep his balance, but he fell back, hitting the ground hard. Molly found herself running for the heavy doors. Molly grabbed the door handle only to remember another soldier locked it from the outside. She was stuck in there. In her panic, Molly pounded her hands against the door, shaking the handle.

"Help!" She cried at the top of her lungs. "Help me!" Molly continued to slam her fists against the heavy door scraping the skin from her hands. Peeking over her shoulder, Molly spotted Randall pulling himself to his feet. Her frantic cries became more distressed as she realized no one was coming to get her.

On the other side of the door, Cunningham had the misfortune of being stuck on guard duty requested by Randall while he conducted his interrogation. The young blonde had perched himself on a bench facing the door. Instructed not to move, he sat there as long as he could before falling into a slumber. The young soldier slumped forward; his Tricorn slid from his head, falling to his feet, revealing the new spots on his forehead where his hormones went finger-painting. He jolted himself up as another woke him to take his place. The shift change couldn't happen soon enough.

"Sleeping on the job?" The older one teased. "You're lucky no one seen Cunningham. Other men have been reprimanded for less."

Cunningham reached down, grabbing for his hat before pulling himself to his feet. As he stood, he pulled a set of keys from his jacket, ready to hand them over to his replacement.

"What do you think he is doing in there?" Cunningham curiously asked.

The other male shrugged his shoulders as he took the keys from the blonde. "I don't know. Randall is strange." Then, the chaos started. Both boys shot their eyes toward the door. The screaming, the pounding on the door was unsettling. They stepped back in a panic, sharing worried glances.

"Should we go in there?"

"Randall said not to disturb him no matter what!" Cunningham cried in fright. The two listened as Molly's cries for help amplified. However, both were more concerned about what would happen to them if they interfered. The young Cunningham boy, unable to stomach what he was hearing, found himself stepping away from the door and the other soldier. Their worried stares met. Mouthing the words, I'm sorry. Cunningham fled the situation, disappearing frantically down the dark hallway.

"No, don't leave me!" The other called out in desperation, but when he did, the pounding and screaming stopped unexpectedly.

Molly did not need to turn around to know Randall was standing behind her. He was like a predator stalking its prey. The captain reached out, pinning Molly between himself and the door.

"Turn around, or I will make you turn around," Randall ordered, his hot breath dancing against her neck.

She knew she shouldn't have, but Molly felt paralyzed by fear, ignoring the demand as long as she could. Quickly Randall grabbed her shoulder, flipping her around so he could get a good look at her. His head tilted this way and that studying her. The hair that had fallen into her face, he lightly brushed out of the way before tenderly dragging his fingertips along her collarbone, traveling up her neck where he held her chin, forcing her to look at him once more.

His stare was cold and lifeless, "You have no idea who I am, do you?"

It was then Molly finally realized why people feared silence.

It felt not of an earthly origin. The torches perched along the stonewalls left an eerie glow. Getting past the gate was easy, but now the challenging part began. Jamie's theory had proven to be true. The group had yet to come across a guard, and how easy it was to walk through shown sloppy protocol. They were on high alert, knowing a threat could be around every corner. Jamie separated himself from the others. He didn't give explicit detail on what he was doing but assured his uncle and godfather he had a plan. The other four found themselves within Fort William's walls sneaking their way through the shadows trying to go unseen. The goal was to get in out as quickly and quietly as possible.

The sound of footsteps echoed down the dimly lit corridor. Murtagh threw his back up against the wall, hiding around the corner. Peering across his shoulder, he motioned the others to stay where they were. The movement stopped and started up again. A door gently opened, and when it closed, Murtagh took the risk of poking his head out to look down the hallway. The guard was still there. Immediately Murtagh pulled himself in the shadows, though he was sure he was spotted.

"Hello, who goes there?" The voice called out. Turning in the Scots direction, he began walking unknowingly towards Murtagh. "Show yourself." Sternly calling out.

Murtagh slipped his hand onto the blade resting at his hip, ready to retrieve it at a moment's notice. He listened as the sound of boots grew closer. His eyes viewed the shadow moving steadily across the cobblestone until the tips of black boots came into view. Lifting his head, Murtagh focused his stare on the soldier who was only inches from him. The guard's body turned in the other direction. Taking a deep breath, the guard lifted his hands, adjusting his collar while being none the wiser to the intruder standing next to him. Experiencing a sensation of being watched, the guard slowly turned in Murtagh's direction. It was first a look of surprise and then aghast. The guard fumbled for his sword and opened his mouth to yell for backup, but quickly Murtagh grabbed ahold of the frantic male; his other hand covered his mouth, making sure no sound could escape. It was easy for the Scot to overpower him. Soon the others moved from their hiding places, checking to make sure the guard did not have friends nearby who could have heard him.

The more the guard began to squirm for freedom, the harder it was for the Scotsman to keep control. What he did next occurred with so much ease, it was almost unbelievable. Murtagh pulled his arm up, pressing it firmly against the neck of his captive. The hand covering his mouth moved to his chin, and in one fluid motion, Murtagh twisted the guard's head back. The vertebrae in his neck cracked, and the guard's body went limp, heedlessly dropping the body as if it were a bag of trash.

"We should move him." Murtagh quietly suggested. They were at war, he knew that, and he was willing to do whatever he had to, but Murtagh felt no honor in what he had done. It felt dirty.

"Leave him," Dougal replied as he walked over from the shadows. His head tilted to the side as he peered down towards the body lying at their feet before giving it a solid kick with his boot, "Ye think they would give us the courtesy?"

Silence overcame Murtagh. He knew Dougal was right, but he was not going to tell him that. His head did not need to inflate more than it was. Looking over towards the other male, Murtagh offered a nod of understanding. Dougal motioned for his men to start moving when an echo of footsteps flooded the hall, preventing further movements. The sound increasingly grew closer, and they could see a shadow dancing long the lit walls of the winding staircase. There was no time to hide. Instead, they stood in place, ready for a fight.

The small group waited with bated breath until greeted with the underwhelming sight of a teary-eyed Cunningham running for dear life down the stairs. His eyes grew like saucers, witnessing what was waiting for him at the end of the stairs. The soldier tried to stop, but he moved too quickly and fell, sliding down the final steps. As Cunningham attempted to pull himself up, he felt the hands of Rupert and Angus pulling him to his feet. The two men forced the young boy to look at them.

Being the bright boy he was, Cunningham knew why they were there and began pleading for his life, "No, don't kill me! I haven't done anything." Murtagh quickly threw his hand over his mouth to conceal the uncontrollable sobbing. Cunningham continued to squirm, but Murtagh didn't falter his hold waiting for the boy to calm down.

"Just end it already!" Dougal told his friend sternly.

Murtagh had a little more patience than that, if they could get information out of the lad, he would take it. "He's just boy," Murtagh replied.

"The second he put on that coat was the day he decided to be a man." Dougal rebutted.

Slowly, Murtagh's hand lifted from Cunningham's mouth. The young man gasped to catch his panicked breath, but as soon as he felt freedom, Murtagh wrapped his hand tightly along his chin, forcing the boy to look at him. "You have something that I want." The Scot started. Using his free hand, he pulled his blade from his hip, pressing the tip against the skin of his neck as a warning. "Where is she?" The boy just stared up at him with wide eyes.

"I-I— she's upstairs with Captain Randall." Cunningham admitted in hysterics, but he didn't stop there, "I'll tell you whatever you want sir, please don't kill me! I don't even want to be here!"

In a moment of sympathy, Murtagh placed his sword back on his hip and loosened his grip on the boy. "What's yer name lad?" He asked while watching him wipe tears from his face.

"William Cunningham."

"How old are ye?" Murtagh asked out of curiosity. The more William spoke the more Murtagh began to realize this boy was no threat.

"I'm 18-years-old," William replied.

Murtagh nodded polity enough before asking his next question. "How well do ye know Randall?"

William became noticeably quiet his blue eyes shifted from Murtagh to Dougal until he found his confidence to speak "Very well. The captain is my second cousin on my father's side. My father said I needed to become a man. He... Randall wrote letters to get me here. I want to be a baker, and he said I would work in the kitchen, but he has me doing guard duty and doing things I don't want to do. I have seen him do things..."

The men continued to listen as William sung like a canary. What unbelievable luck they had to run into to the only soldier in the fort to have a personal connection to Randall. The situation could have gone another way, and from the way the young man spoke, it sounded like he had no warm feelings toward Randall either.

"What of Molly?" Murtagh questioned with urgency.

"Randall was questioning Miss St. Claire, and she was fine until..."

"Until What!" Murtagh spat, shaking the lad for answers.

"She started screaming and pounding on the door. Randall told me not to go inside, no matter what. I—I ran away like a coward!" William cried out.

Thinking Murtagh was moments away from cutting his throat, William began bargaining with the Scotsmen, "I'll bring you to her, please don't kill me!".

Murtagh's dark eyes shifted towards Dougal before bringing his attention back to William, studying him for a moment. Murtagh was unsure if he believed him or not. However, the boy did offer a way for them to get to Molly, and currently, they had no other plan.

"Fine," Murtagh replied. His brows narrowed while he gave the boy a once over. Nodding his head, Rubert and Angus began striping William of any weapons he had on him, but Murtagh still didn't feel satisfied, "We need to rough ye up a bit..."

William's expression was of confusion, "Hold on, wha-" before he could finish his thought, the boy's cheek met Murtagh's closed fist.

"No hard feelings lad."

Randall's gaze froze her literally and physically and he smiled as his hand pressed against her throat.

"Go ahead kill me. Add another ghost to haunt you." Molly whispered.

"You are starting to lose my interest, and that is very dangerous." The captain added. His cold stare traced her body, quietly imagining all the things he could do with it until bringing his gaze back up to Molly. When she nervously looked away, he forced the woman to look at him. The power he felt over her was intoxicating.

Randall released his hand from Molly's throat, moving it to her forearm. Her eyes shot up to Randall's, knowing what was about to happen, and the fear that overcame her was nothing she had ever felt. Tightening his grip, Randall pulled her away from the door. He used so much force Molly fell to her knees.

"Please, don't do this." She pleaded. Molly used her bodyweight to plant herself on the floor and tried pulling herself away from Randall.

"Get up." Reaching down with his free hand, Randall grabbed Molly by her hair, violently pulling her to her feet.

Not knowing what to do, Molly did the only thing she could think of doing. The woman started to scream and cry at the top of her lungs as she tried to pull and fight her way from Randall's hold, a fruitless action. The man was surprisingly strong, wrapping his arms around her frame, pinning her arms to her body. He did not speak a word, but his movements were aggressive and filled with ill intent. Each attempt to wiggle herself free only caused Randall to tighten his hold on her. The next thing Molly knew, she was being tossed across the table.

"Move. It will be the last thing you ever do." The captain warned. Leaning his body forward, Randall pressed his palm against Molly's face, pinning her head against the table and forcing her to look away from him.

Molly squeezed her eyes shut, trying to think of anything but what was happening, but not even the happiest of memories could drown out the sound of her sobbing. She could not see what the monster was doing; Molly could only feel the lifting of her skirt and his hand forcing its way up her inner thigh as he labored her legs apart. Ignoring his threat, Molly fought to push him off of her, grabbing at his shirt, his jacket. Anything to give her leverage. In his frustration, Randall moved his hand, freeing Molly for movement. The captain continued to grab for her arms in hopes of controlling her, but Molly managed to pull herself away, and in one fluid motion, she dug her nails into his cheek, dragging them down his skin with a trail of blood.

Randall let out a loud yelp before pulling his head away. For a moment, he reached for his cheek, allowing Molly to get up from the table. The freedom was short-lived. When she pushed herself past Randall, the man grabbed ahold of her tossing her like a ragdoll back in place.

When her body made contact with the tabletop, there was a thump. Molly spotted a gold candlestick holder rolling gently back and forth against the wood. Molly stretched her arms as far as they would allow, but her fingertips only grazed the metal holder. Randall was quick to reach for the object as well. However, as he did so was met with a swift knee to his gut. Buying herself time, Molly grabbed the holder, turning back around; Randall was already hovering over her. One hand found its way around her throat, squeezing as the other fought to pry her hand open. The pressure was intense and unbearable. The more she fought to keep the candle holder in her hand, the harder Randall pushed against her windpipe until all the air left her body. Molly grew increasingly weak, her hand opened, and the candle holder fell from her fingers.

"Maybe I should string your body up as a warning, hmm?" The captain continued to mock. His head tilted in curiosity while her movements and her breathing started to slow. Just as he pressed a little harder for that final blow, the sound of voices began echoing outside the door. He tried to ignore it until the pounding started. His eyes widened as he peered over his shoulder. The door was moments away from falling off its hinges.

From what he could hear, maybe two or three men were on the other side. A smirk slipped across his lips, hoping that his redhead friend was amongst them. He studied the door, and with no warning, it busted opened with Murtagh and Dougal as they drew their blades.

Randall's smirk slipped away as quickly as it appeared. There was an overwhelming feeling of disappointment that washed over him when he didn't see Jamie. But the older Fraser certainly grabbed his attention.

Murtagh stayed still, but his stare shifted to Molly. She was so still he couldn't tell if she was alive or dead. Instinctively he felt himself move towards her like an uncontrollable impulse. Dougal immediately threw his hand out, stopping him.

"Come any closer; I will kill her," Randall warned. His stare darted from one highlander to the next as they slowly took a step back. The grip he held on Molly's throat easing up.

"I beg of ye. We only want Molly." Murtagh pleaded. It was a false attempt, and he knew Randall wouldn't bite. In all honesty, if there were any chance that the captain would have taken him in place of Molly, he would do it in a heartbeat.

"I don't care about what you want. What I want is Jamie, and you will tell me where he is before I break her neck."

Silence fell amongst Dougal and Murtagh with shared glances toward one another until their eyes locked. You could cut the tension in the room with a knife. But after a moment, Murtagh offered up a nod to Dougal. The war chieftain took a deep breath before bringing his attention back to Randall. He didn't want to do this so soon, but it looked as if he didn't have a choice. Turning his head over his shoulder, Dougal let out a hard whistle.

Out of the shadows of the hallway, Rupert and Angus appeared with William. Both the men held the terrified teenager by both his arms. Knowing the relationship he had with the captain, they had hoped it would cause Randall to give in and release Molly. But when Randall saw the young man, he started laughing, and all the color in Williams's face drained from his cheeks.

"This was your plan?" Randall asked. "Go ahead, kill him."

"What?" William gasped. He looked as shocked as he sounded.

"I'm going to ask again..." Randall clenched his jaw and began pressing his hand against Molly's throat with more pressure than he had before. "Where is Jamie?" There was still a sign of movement as her hand weakly reached for his hand but quickly dropped to the side of the table.

"Take me, and I'll tell ye anything you want!" The sound of desperation rang in Murtagh's voice. He came there ready for a fight but seeing Molly like that. He was scared, and he worried anything he did would kill her.

Click. "Closer than you think." The riffle pressed firmly against the back of Randall's neck. Jamie had been waiting on the windows ledge. How long that had been a mystery.

"Where did you get that?" Dougal questioned.

"I borrowed it," Jamie replied though his attention was only on Randall. Slowly, Jamie pulled himself down from the ledge, the barrel of the gun never leaving Randall. "Let her go..."

"Or what, Mr. Fraser, you'll shoot me? You don't have it in you."

Jamie fell quiet as he slowly moved around to Randall's side pressing the barrel against his temple. "No?" He threatened.

Randall's eyes nervously shifted around the room. The power he thought he held was no longer there. Realizing he was outnumbered, he freed Molly from his grip.

Immediately Murtagh ran to the American's side. She fought for air. Each inhales Molly took felt strenuous and harsh. In her attempt to roll on her side, she became weak, slipping to the ground. Murtagh knelt to her side, scooping her into his arms. A moment he spent many nights hoping for, but never like this.

Molly looked up at him the best she could. He felt warm and familiar, solid and safe. She wanted to cling to his shirt, bury her face in the curve of his neck and never let go.

Dougal jumped in to assist Jamie, taking what he could from Randall, which wasn't much. His gun, still holstered, rested comfortably across a chair. It made him believe that Randall wanted this. The little cat and mouse game he loved so deeply. Dougal made sure to take it with him to prevent any surprises.

Jamie waited for Murtagh to take Molly out of the room and started to back away from Randall. "One day, you will have me. You have my word. But not today."

Rupert and Angus tossed William at Randall's feet and followed Murtagh. Jamie and Dougal steadily made their way to the doorway, Dougal went first, but Jamie lingered, giving Randall one last look right before disappearing back into the darkness.