No turning back.
The die was cast.
And my feet carried me onward—toward the unsuspecting angel ahead.
The night held a chill that felt at odds with the warm glow spilling from the manor’s windows—a stark contrast between what lay behind me and what waited ahead.
I moved silently through the garden, my steps sure, practiced—nothing but a shadow among shadows.
And yet, Elizabeth’s silhouette merged with them as if she belonged to the night just as much as I did.
Then—
A sound.
Soft.Fragile.
A sob broke the silence.
The air thickened, my resolve flickering like the flame of a candle in a draft.
I had spent a lifetime detached from the sorrows of the living.
But her grief?—
It rooted me to the spot.
And for the first time in longer than I could remember?—
I felt something.
Something I had no right to feel.
Something that would change everything.
“Lady Alexander.”
My voice barely rose above a whisper, yet she stiffened—a doe alerted to a being in the dark.
She glanced up, her eyes wide and glassy in the faint light.
“Who’s there?”
Her words trembled, as delicate as leaves on the verge of falling.
“Don’t be alarmed.It’s me—Lord Hassan.”
I took a cautious step forward, though I knew my appearance was a trespass.I was breaking the rules I had lived by for centuries, stepping onto sacred ground.
“I’m not here to hurt you.”
The words felt hollow, even to my ears.
Because I was a man who hurt.
A man who destroyed.
She wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand, straightening her spine—her gaze locking onto mine with an intensity that belied her fragile exterior.
