Nikolai shifted his weight, discomfort sliding across his face. “She was, but we got into an argument and she, ah, took off while we were riding.”
“How long ago?” I didn’t give a damn if I sounded disrespectful. It was a personal safety issue, and I was Bridget’s bodyguard. I had a right to know what happened.
Nikolai’s discomfort visibly increased. “An hour ago.”
The anger erupted, edging out the alarm by a hair. “An hour ago? And no one thought to call me?”
“Watch your tone, Mr. Larsen,” Elin admonished. “You’re speaking to the Crown Prince.”
“I’m aware.” Elin could take her glares and shove them up her ass along with the stick permanently residing there. “No one has seen the princess since?”
“A groundskeeper found her horse,” Viggo said. “We took it back to—”
“Found her horse.” A vein pulsed in my forehead. “Meaning she wasn’t riding it and she hadn’t returned it to the stables herself.” No matter how angry she was, Bridget would never leave an animal behind. Something had happened to her. Panic grated against my insides as I bit out, “Tell me. Have you searched the grounds, or just the palace?”
“Her Highness wouldn’t be out there,” Viggo blustered. “It’s storming! She’s inside—”
“Unless she fell off her horse and is unconscious somewhere.” Jesus, how the hell had he risen to the deputy security chief position? There were hamsters with more brains than him.
“Bridget is an excellent equestrian, and we have a few people searching outside. She could’ve run off to one of her hiding places. She used to do that as a kid.” Nikolai looked at Viggo. “But Mr. Larsen’s right. It doesn’t hurt to be extra thorough. Shall we send extra men to check the grounds?”
“If you wish, Your Highness. I’ll draw up the quadrants…”
Un-fucking-believable.
I was halfway out the door before Viggo finished his moronic sentence. Too bad the Head of Security, who was actually competent, was on vacation because his deputy was a goddamned idiot. By the time he finished drawing his quadrants, Bridget could be seriously hurt.
“Where are you going?” Elin called after me.
“To do my job.”
I picked up my pace, cursing the size of the palace as I sprinted toward the closest door leading outdoors. By the time I hit the grounds, my panic had escalated into full-blown terror. Thunder boomed so loud it rattled the door as I shut it behind me, and it was raining so hard the gardens and fountains blurred in front of me.
The estate was too large for me to search it all by myself, so I had to be strategic. My best bet would be to start at the official horseback riding trail in the southeast corner and go from there, though the rain would’ve washed away any hoofprints by now.
Luckily, the palace had a fleet of motorized carts to ferry guests around the grounds, and I made it to the riding trail in ten minutes instead of the half hour it would’ve taken me on foot.
“Come on, princess, where are you?” I muttered, my eyes straining to see past the thick sheet of water slanting through the air.
Images of Bridget lying on the ground, her body twisted and broken, flashed through my mind. My skin turned ice cold, and the wheel slipped against my sweaty palms.
If anything happened to her, I would murder Viggo. Slowly.
I scoured the trails, but twenty minutes later, I still hadn’t found her, and I was getting desperate. She could be indoors, but my gut told me she wasn’t, and my gut was never wrong.
Maybe she was in an area the cart couldn’t reach. It wouldn’t hurt to check.
I killed the engine and jumped out, ignoring the harsh sting of raindrops on my skin.
“Bridget!” The rain swallowed her name, and I let out a low curse. “Bridget!” I tried again, my boots sinking into the muddy ground as I searched the area near the trail. The rain plastered my shirt and pants to my skin, making it hard to move, but I’d weathered worse than a puny thunderstorm as a SEAL.
I wasn’t giving up until I found her.
I was about to move on to a different section of the grounds when I spotted a flash of blonde out of the corner of my eye. My heart tripped, and I froze for half a beat before I sprinted toward her.
Please let it be her.
It was.
I sank onto my knees by her side, my chest hollowing at the paleness of Bridget’s face and the large, purplish bruise on her forehead. A small trickle of blood dripped down the side of her face, turning pink when it mingled with the rain. She was unconscious and completely soaked through.
A snarling, protective beast rose in my chest with such ferocity it stunned me.
Viggo was as good as dead. If he hadn’t dragged his feet, if someone had fucking called me and told me Bridget was missing…
I forced myself to push the anger aside for now. I had more important things to focus on.
I checked her pulse, which was weak but steady. Thank God. I quickly scanned the rest of her for signs of injury. Normal breathing, no broken limbs, and no blood except for the cut on her forehead. Her helmet was askew, and dirt smeared her cheeks and clothes.
The beast in my chest snarled again, ready to rip not only Viggo but Nikolai to shreds for not protecting her, or at least being there for her.
He probably couldn’t have done anything to prevent Bridget from falling off her horse—judging by her helmet and position on the ground, that must’ve been what happened—but the beast didn’t care. All it knew was she was hurt, and for that, someone had to pay.
Later.
I needed to get her to the doctor first.
I cursed again when I realized I had no cell service. The storm must’ve knocked it out.
Standard medical advice said I shouldn’t move an injured person without professionals present, but I had no choice.
I scooped Bridget up in my arms and carried her to the cart, supporting her neck with one hand. We made it halfway when I heard a low groan.
My heart tripped again. “Princess, you awake?” I kept my voice even, not wanting to panic and scare her.
Bridget let out another groan, her eyes fluttering open. “Mr. Larsen? What are you doing? What happened?” She tried to twist her head to look around, but I stopped her with a firm squeeze on her thigh.
“You’re injured. Don’t move unless you absolutely have to.” We reached the cart, and I set her carefully in the passenger seat before I took the driver’s seat and turned on the engine. Relief flooded my veins, so thick it almost choked me.
She was okay. She might have a concussion, judging by the bruise, but she was conscious and talking and alive.
“Do you remember what happened?” I wanted to speed back to the palace, which had an in-house doctor, but I forced myself to drive slowly to minimize any bumps and jerky movements.
Bridget touched her forehead with a wince. “I was riding and…there was a branch. I didn’t see it until it was too late.” She squeezed her eyes shut. “My head hurts, and everything’s blurry.”
Dammit. Concussion for sure.