Josephine wheezed as General wrapped his hands around her scrawny little neck. Each tremor and gasp only intensified his sense of control. Oh, how he loved dominating Josephine, seeing her so helpless.
“Marcus, stop,” she begged.
General took one last look in her eyes, seeing how pathetic she was. She was so fragile that he could snap her with his bare hands with no issue. Such a great temptation, looking at this delicate creature. That was precisely what he wanted more than anything. He yearned to rid himself of this woman who had betrayed their agreement. Her father had deceived him, and he would no longer tolerate the presence of Josephine in his life.
This was where it would end—here and now.
His thoughts shattered as a hard object smashed against his head. He let out a low growl, backing away slowly as his visionblurred and the room swayed around him. General reached out towards the stair rail to maintain his balance, but he moved too quickly. The world disappeared as he fell backwards, falling farther away from the top floor.
General’s body grew hot, his fiery rage consuming him from the inside out. He had been lied to and manipulated, and that wife of his was more than just a runaway—she was an attempted murderess. He would find her, regardless of the cost, and when he did, he would crush her fragile body with his bare hands, no mercy, no matter how much she begged. This was not over; it was only the beginning of her reckoning.
He peered down at Mammy, who lay on the floor, crying and moaning in pain. With a surge of fury, General grabbed her by the hair, yanking her up until she was forced to face him.
“You thought you could fool me, huh?” he growled. “Now look who’s the fool!”
General imagined Josephine’s face as he wrapped his bare hands around Mammy’s throat. The old, plump woman struggled against him, but it only made General’s grip stronger. He was more powerful being free from that bedroom, free from Dr. Colson’s orders. No one would manipulate or control him again. He was in full control now, draining the life from Mammy’s body as her very own angel of death.
Mammy’s eyes widened as she croaked, trying to take one more gulp of the air General stole from her. She kicked and squirmed beneath him, and General pressed and pressed until her body gave out. He smiled, looking down at her lifeless eyes. Then he walked away, his veins thrumming with more power than ever.
Revenge starts now.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Willow Grove, Montana; Christmas Eve 1872
DespiteSophiehavingbeengone a year, the pain worsened during the holiday season. She had passed three months before the previous Christmas, and that was next to the hardest day for them all. That morning, the children had gathered around in the living room, wailing, begging for the one gift they wanted—their mother.
The home had been bare of any festive decorations—no ornaments, mistletoe, or holly. Decorating had always been Sophie’s job. She’d dry flowers throughout the warmer months, saving them for Christmas. The least Travis could manage was cutting down a large spruce, but they had no ornaments to hang. No popcorn to string. No paper snowflakes. Christmas dinnerwas nothing more than leftover rabbit stew Aunt Polly had prepared. Travis had managed to gather a few small gifts, but the children lacked cheerful faces when they unwrapped them.
Gideon was a newborn then, and Travis had gone days without sleeping. Raising a baby alone was hard—Gideon needed the mother’s touch, something he couldn’t give. He kept his distance, only holding him when it was absolutely necessary.
However, this year was different. On Christmas Eve, the home was alive again, filled with the warm scent of freshly baked cookies and the lingering aroma of popcorn, strung just hours ago by the children around the tree. Holly and mistletoe adorned the table and draped over the mantle above the fireplace, bringing a festive cheer to the room. The soft glow of candlelight flickered, brightening the once-dim house, making it feel like home again.
The children were fast asleep, nestled together in one bed, just as Travis had tucked them in minutes earlier. The night was bitterly cold, and all three huddled under thick blankets, with a hot pan warming the foot of their bed. Outside, the wind howled as the blizzard thickened, its fierce gusts rattling the windows. A storm or two around Christmas was nothing unusual—snow had already piled calf-deep and more made no difference. The Rockies were known for harsh winters, and spring felt a long way off.
Travis walked down the hallway, passing the living area, where he spotted Josie crouched at the foot of the tree, arranging the children’s wrapped gifts. The stockings hung over the fireplace, stuffed to the brim with candy and small handmade goodies Josie had crafted. Travis paused, watching her work, and couldn’t help but think how much he relied on her. She had a way of breathing life back into the family, something he hadn’t realized he needed until she arrived. He often worried he leaned on her too much. She had only been asked to be a mother, butshe went far beyond that—one of the many things he appreciated about her.
Josie glanced over her shoulder. “You’re not supposed to peek at your gifts until tomorrow,” she teased, a playful smile tugging at her lips.
Travis chuckled, crossing his arms. “I would do no such thing.”
“Are the children in bed?”
“More like all inonebed.”
Josie giggled. “It’s that cold, huh?”
“The one time of the year they get along—when they are too cold and must depend on one another.”
“I remember those days,” Josie said with a sigh. “Being with my family feels like forever ago.”
Travis stepped closer. “And you will have it again. Just wait and see.”
His eyes drifted to Josie’s swollen belly, barely hidden under her flannel nightdress. Just days ago, Dr. Gordon said the birth would be any day. The bitterness Travis once felt over Josie’s dishonesty had long faded. In truth, he was happy for her—happy that she would have a child of her own, even if it wasn’t his. She deserved the joy, since she had no biological family left.
Josie took a deep breath, bracing herself as she pressed the palm of her hand to the ground, preparing to push herself up. Seeing her struggle, Travis quickly stepped forward, gently grasping her arm and placing a steady hand on her back to help her rise. She leaned into his support as he guided her upright with ease.
“Thank you, Travis,” she breathed. Josie placed one hand on her belly and the other on her back, taking slow, deep breaths in and out. She closed her eyes, wincing as she let out a soft groan. Travis recognized the familiar grimace—she was in pain. The way Josie arched her back and winced brought back memories of Sophie’s struggles as she neared delivery.
