The dirt road leading toward the lower city was now silent.
Hugo lay face down in the dirt. His head throbbed with a deep, sharp pain. He slowly blinked his eyes. His vision was blurry. He groaned softly, tasting the dust in his mouth. He placed his bare, shaking hands flat against the dirt and pushed his upper body up.
He looked around. The carriage was gone. The horses were gone. The thugs were gone. And most importantly, Lady Camilla was gone.
Hugo reached a trembling hand up to his head. He felt a large, swollen bump on the side of his skull. His fingers came away with dark, dried blood. He looked down at his body. He was only wearing his simple long white undershirt.
"My lady," Hugo whispered to himself. His voice was weak and scratchy.
Panic flooded his chest. He was the driver. His only duty was to protect the carriage and the passengers inside. He had failed. He had allowed a group of thugs to ambush them and take the wife of the General.
