The truth landed like a blade.
“They’re not sparing me,” she whispered. “They’re burying us.”
“They’ll forget you on purpose,” he said with her face in his hands. “Watch you by absence. That’s the bargain.”
The pounding downstairs grew louder. Voices barked orders. Metal rang against stone.
Fiona clutched him with her free hand, shaking. “Don’t you dare—don’t you dare choose this without me—”
He kissed their daughter’s head.
Then he kissed Fiona’s tears.
“I love ye,” he said simply. “Both of ye. More than breath.”
“Harris, please—”
Boots thundered on the stairs.
There was no more time.
He stepped back, straightening—soldier, spy, laird once more.
“Tell her I fought for her future,” he whispered. “Tell her her Da loved her first.”
Her voice broke completely. “Please… please—”
He reached the door.
Turned back one last time.
His voice cracked.
“Fiona, let me do this.”
The soldiers burst inside.
“By order of His Majesty’s Government,” the officer barked, “Harris Mackenzie, you are under arrest for high treason.”
Fiona lunged for him, screaming his name—
“HARRIS! NO!”
“You promised me! Ye promised you’d choose me!”
—but he raised a hand.
Not to stop her.
To remember her.
The last thing he saw was the woman he loved, clutching their newborn child, crying his name like a prayer torn from heaven.
And the last thing he whispered, meant only for her, was:
“Live.”
And then he was gone.
