Page 33 of Night Fall
Her face must have given her away because the man’s expression morphed into one of sick satisfaction. “You’ve finally figured it out then.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Where is he?”
The man had the audacity to shrug. The movement should have been pathetic since he was dangling off the ground, her hand still firmly around his throat, but his nonchalance sent a shiver of fear down her back.
“I might as well tell you. My job here is done. He’s at his home. I presume you know where that is, but you won’t be able to save him anyway. It’s too late for the both of you.”
Goosebumps trailed her skin, following the wave of dread that spread throughout her body. In her rage, she tore the man’s esophagus out of his body and threw it to the floor, and yet he still died with a smile on his face.
He didn’t win, she told herself. Erik would have never believed…
But she almost had. And hadn’t Erik been worried last night? Hadn’t he seemed to think she was growing tired of waiting? If he had seen…
No.
No!
Mya ran as fast as she could through the alleyways to the edge of the town, then deep into the forest. She dodged trees and flew over streams, then careened up the mountainside to the land Erik had bought when they had first arrived in America.
From what he had told her, Mya was expecting untamed forest. Yet, as she crested the mountain, she found a large area of cleared land where a cabin-style house overlooked a lake. She gasped, and her body slowed to a stop as she approached the door. It reminded her so much of the cabin back in England that it was almost as if she had been transported back there. A million questions formed in her mind, but she shook them away. She would ask Erik about this later, once she knew he was safe.
She could smell his scent all over the property, but it engulfed her when she opened the door. The strength of it told her that he had been there recently, and her heartbeat raced at the thought of being able to see him, to hold him, to put the horrible events of today behind them.
Mya let his scent guide her as she ran through the house, until she ended in a room at the back of the property. It was sparsely furnished with a bed, chair, dresser, mirror, and desk which had a candle that was still burning.
She stepped closer to the desk and her heart plummeted. There, in the center of the desk, was Erik’s ring, and underneath a letter addressed to her.
Shakily, she picked up the ring, which was still warm to the touch and opened the letter.
“My dearest fagr skjaldmær min,
I’ve known for a long time that you were unhappy. You’ve made the best of our time over the years. You always promised to wait, and I was foolish enough to take advantage of your patience. I am so sorry. I am sorrier than you will ever know. I never wanted to take advantage of you. I only wished to keep you safe, to love you, to cherish you, to marry you and now—
I saw you with him, and even though my heart aches, I cannot blame you. I only wish I’d done better. If I could turn back the hands of time, I would, I swear to you I would. But now what’s done is done, and if someone else has your heart then I cannot jeopardize that, for your heart is one of the purest, most beautiful things I have ever known.
I love you, Mya. I will always love you. But if I stay around you, I will take you. I will ruin this for my own selfish needs, and I can’t do that. I shouldn’t be selfish with you, not anymore.
I wanted so much with you, fagr skjaldmær min. I used to wear this ring to ward off women. When they would ask me about my wife, I would tell them how beautiful she was, how special and radiant. In my heart, in my eyes, you will always be my wife, my mate, the place I run home to, but I understand that I can no longer be those things for you.
I may have squandered my chances, but I hope he gives you what you deserve––marriage, a home, a family––everything you’ve always wanted. And until then, know that this property is yours. I was building it for us, but even if there is no future for me here, there should be for you. You will find the keys, deed, and all necessary paperwork signed and sealed in the drawer. I have transferred all my assets to you in the hopes that you will live a life without struggle or strife.
This is goodbye, for there is no life without you, fagr skjaldmær min, my beautiful shield maiden, my beautiful warrior. You are one of the fiercest, bravest, most beautiful, most radiant women I have ever known.
With my entire heart and soul; yours forever,
Erik.”
Mya clutched the letter and ring to her chest, standing in absolute silence while her heart shattered into a million pieces.
She didn’t know how long she stayed like that—frozen into place, barely breathing—but when she came to and saw that the candle was sputtering, she knew there was only one thing she could do. She had to find him and tell him that none of it had been real. They were supposed to be together, live out their lives together. She was going to marry him, bear his children, spend the rest of her life by his side. That had always been their future. She knew it in her soul, which meant this horrible reality that left her heart barren and her entire being ripped to shreds simply could not exist.
No. She would find him. She would show him that what he saw was nothing but a trick, and then they would get retribution, together. They would marry, and the whole heartbreaking ordeal would become nothing more than a bitter memory. That was the only possibility she believed in.
Determined, she made her way through the house, searching for any sign of him. Finding nothing, she moved outside. Following his scent, she called his name while she searched through the forest. When she reached the cliffs, her mouth dropped open at the scene in front of her.
All the trees and brush were gone. In their place were mounds of ash, mixing with the scent of her beloved, her husband. There was nowhere else to go, no other trail to follow and nothing else to search for. His scent stopped by the cliff’s edge. The pieces all fit together to create one unbelievable horror in her mind: Erik was gone. Dead. He’d thrown himself over the cliff, committed suicide, all because he’d thought he lost her, because of cruel revenge against someone who had done nothing to deserve it, because she hadn’t gotten there in time to stop him, to make him see reason.
If she had just been faster, stronger, listened to the worry that had been weighing her down since that morning, he’d be here now. But she hadn’t and now, now he was—
