Black spots danced at the edges of her vision. Her lungs burned.
The boarded window exploded inward.
Dominic came through the rotten frame in a shower of splintered wood and rusted nails, both pistols drawn, his face a mask of cold, controlled fury. His eyes swept the room in a single tactical glance — Gabriel’s hand on Nell’s throat, Oliver on the floor, the firelight, the shadows, the angles.
The man Nell loved disappeared. In his place stood the soldier who had survived Waterloo — hard and utterly without mercy.
“Get your hands off her.” The command rang off the walls before anyone could breathe. He did not blink. His aim did not waver.
Gabriel spun, dragging Nell with him, her body a shield between them. The pistol jammed against her temple, the barrel a cold iron circle against her skin.
“One more step and I kill her.” The words came out high and thin, the first fraying edge of panic breaking through.
“Let her go.” Dominic’s pistols stayed level.
“Shoot me and she dies first.” Gabriel’s grip on her throat tightened, and she gasped for a sliver of air. “The bullet will go right through her skull.”
The standoff hung in the firelit room like a held breath. Smoke drifted from the hearth. Oliver lay still on the ground, his eyes open now, watching, his bloodied cheek pressed to the earth. “You are not walking out of here.” Dominic adjusted his stance, his boots grinding against the packed floor. “The only question is whether you die fast or slow.”
“Big words from a man whose woman has a gun to her head.” Gabriel laughed, the sound high and cracked and wrong. He pulled Nell closer, his fingers digging into the bruised skin of her throat. “Here is what is going to happen, my lord. You are going to put down those pretty pistols and let me walk out of here with my wife. Then you are going to forget you ever saw my face, and perhaps I will let her live.”
“She is not your wife.” Dominic’s finger tightened on the trigger. “She stopped being your wife the moment you raised your hand to her.”
“The law says different.” Gabriel sneered, pressing the pistol harder against Nell’s temple.
“The law can hang itself.” Dominic took another step. “And so can you.”
Gabriel’s pistol swung toward him — away from Nell’s temple — for just a second.
It was long enough.
Nell threw herself sideways with every ounce of strength she had left, her elbow catching Gabriel hard in the ribs. He stumbled. His grip loosened.
Dominic fired.
The shot was deafening in the small cottage, the sound slamming off the stone walls. Gabriel screamed, blood blooming from his shoulder as he clutched at the wound. Nell tore free, hit the ground, and crawled toward Oliver.
Gabriel raised his pistol toward Dominic, his ruined face twisted with rage.
Dominic fired again.
The second bullet took Gabriel in the chest. He staggered backward, his eyes going wide with shock, and collapsed against the far wall. Blood spread across his shirt, dark and wet. The pistol slipped from his fingers and clattered to the earth.
He looked down at the wound. Then he looked up at Nell, who was gathering Oliver into her arms on the floor.
“You —” Blood bubbled at his lips. His ruined face twisted with pure, final hatred. “You were supposed to… suffer...”
He slid down the wall and did not move again.
Silence. The fire crackled. Smoke hung in the low ceiling like a shroud.
Oliver stirred in Nell’s lap, pushing himself upright on shaking arms. Blood ran from the split on his cheekbone where the hearthstone had caught him, and his eyes were glassy, but they were open and fierce and fixed on his mother’s face.
“Is it over?” The words came out scraped raw.
“It is over.” Nell pulled him against her chest, her tears hot against his hair. She pressed her lips to the top of his head and held him so tight she could feel his heart beating against her ribs. “It is over, love. He cannot hurt us anymore.”
Small footsteps crossed the floor behind them. Lily pressed herself into Nell’s side without a word, her fingers clutching a fistful of her mother’s dress. Dominic knelt beside them, his arms gathering all three of them in, his chin resting against Nell’s temple. Nobody spoke. Nobody needed to.
