For the first time, he doesn’t seem frightening or all-powerful. I still don’t want to go for another midnight ride with him, but the fear is gone.
“Emery!”
“Here!” I answer.
I glance at the Widow. “He’s a good man. Not every Sterling deserves to be punished for what Silas did.”
Declan bursts through the fog, breath ragged, coat gone, eyes wild as they lock on me. He skids to a stop, chest heaving, his gaze sweeping over me like he’s checking for injuries and plotting to murder anyone who hurt me.
“Emery?” His hoarse voice breaks my name in half. “You’re okay.”
He crosses the distance and pulls me into his arms anyway, one hand sliding up to cradle the back of my head, keeping my face tucked against his chest—shielding me. “You scared the hell out of me.
“You’re here,” he murmurs, rough and disbelieving. “You’re really here.”
Behind us,the Rider remains still. The fog thins until the cemetery’s completely exposed, stripped bare under the cold night sky.
Declan’s arms tighten around me like he’s afraid I’ll slip through his fingers again. His breath is uneven against my temple.
“I’m okay,” I assure him, even though my mind’s still spinning with the pieces of the puzzle I’ve fit together.
He doesn’t let go right away. His hands slide up and down my arms, pausing when his fingers brush my wrist.
His grip stills.
Something hard flickers through his expression—gone as fast as it comes.
I pull back enough to look down at my arm. The skin there is smooth. Pale. Empty. I push my sleeve up higher.
Nothing.No heat. No pulse. No shimmer.
It’s gone.
Declan swallows hard. “Emery?”
Something creaks behind us. We both turn. Declan steps in front of me, reaching back with one arm as if to protect me or keep me still.
The Rider sits tall in the saddle, unmoving but flickering against the edges of the world. He lifts one gloved hand toward the statue. The Widow remains frozen. But the pressure in the air around her is gone.
For a moment, we’re suspended in time—past, present—and consequences.
The horse pivots. Fog curls in on itself, swallowing the horse and Rider whole.
Cold quiet rushes in to fill the void.
I actually did it. I uncovered a supernatural truth. A legend that’s real. But I don’t even care about my investigation anymore.
I wish my mother was still here so I could give her proof of the supernatural and with it, maybe peace.
Declan lets out a shaky breath. “Are you okay?”
I lift my gaze to the Widow. Moonlight touches her face, giving her an almost peaceful glow. “She needed people to know what happened to her,” I whisper.
Declan frowns at the statue, then glances at my wrist. His thumb brushes over my skin as if he’s searching for any trace of the mark.
“You’re free,” he says, relief lifting his voice. “And still here—with me. He didn’t take you.”
“Told you I’m a sturdy girl,” I quip to lighten the mood.
