Page 88 of Hunted By the Headless Horseman
There is Jack, my husband, masked by the fire, exposed and vulnerable. Thaddeus is a twisted shadow of hell, looking just like the devil I saw that night. I ran from him before—how I thought I was free.
But this time, I won’t run.
No. I break free from Mrs. Kravitson and run toward the man I love—Jackson Elias Moore.
Hatred consumes Thaddeus as he sneers at Jack, keeping him pinned to the ground. “It’s over, Moore. Belle is mine. Always has been. And now, you’ll be nothing but a ghost.”
He reaches for the branding iron, the same one he used on me. Jack writhes and struggles beneath him, finding no leverage. The puckered burn still haunts me, flaring pain on my shoulder. But all I can focus on is the ominous, metallic gleamof the poker as he raises it high and prepares to bring it down. “Say goodbye to her, Jack,” Thaddeus growls. “I’ll carve my mark into her soul.”
Another gleam twinkles in my peripheral vision. Without thinking, I lurch for the object, Jack’s cane. My love for him surges within me, steadying me with an eerie peace I’ve never felt. I can’t lose him. He is mine.
With fear and a fierce determination to protect him, I charge forward with Jack’s cane in my grip. My breath gives out as I press the button at the base, and the scythe blade releases, flashing wickedly in my hand.
Heart thundering with fear and adrenaline, I lunge for the devil of my former husband, bring the blade down, and plunge it deep into Thaddeus’s back. Blood splatters me. He yells in agony, staggering, falling to the ground as the sharp metal buries deep into his flesh. Not his spine but his upper back, close to the shoulder.
But as he turns on me, his eyes like an evil, black hole, horror washes over me. I brace myself for the impact as he swings his arm while Jack charges at him.
Thaddeus’s fist lands, upending me. I hit the ground hard, the wind is knocked out of me. Pain throbs everywhere. The world spins. I barely feel Mrs. Kravitson touching my shoulder, her eyes concerned, her voice blurring beneath the sound of Jack roaring.
Through my cloudy vision, Jack drives Thaddeus to the ground, which only forces the scythe deeper into his back. Thaddeus growls through gritted teeth.
Jack stands over my former husband, his form towering, dark, and fearsome. The fire dances on his face. I don’t see enough. But I can see the storm of emotions in his gaze—anger, pain, and an unyielding love. He looks down at the man who tried to claim me and the glimmer of his ancestor who destroyed so many lives.
Jack leans close, his voice a low, cold growl, “You never owned her. She was never yours. And now, you’ll pay for every drop of her blood.”
Shock stuns me as Jack rips the scythe from Thaddeus’s shoulder, kicks him, and brings the blade down, twisting it right between the thighs. A blood-curdling scream pierces the night,and I turn away before I lose my stomach contents from Jack enacting the deepest of vengeance, carving out the very masculinity of Thaddeus Thorne. The Elder convulses in pain. His scream cuts through my heart as I stand frozen, torn between relief and horror at what Jack has done…to avenge me, to save me.
He leaves the blade embedded in Thaddeus’s privates and turns away, advancing to me. Mrs. Kravitson doesn’t say a word.
Nothing but undying love for him fills me.
I still can’t make out his face, but I can feel his gaze and energy—fierce, yet soft, a beautiful paradox.
He approaches until I feel his breath on my face. And capturing my chin in one hand, then brushing his knuckles across my cheek, Jack says, “You are my world.” Tears engulf my eyes. Emotion stunts all my words.
And then…
My heart gives out. I buckle, falling into Jack’s arms.
Pain rips through my chest like a cruel storm. I know what this is. I’ve felt echoes of it through the past nine years. But after this night, the longest night of our lives, it’s too much. Too much for my weak heart. I feel so weak. And cold.
“Belle!” Jack’s voice is dim, muted beneath the blood pounding my ears.
More tears flow, but I can’t possibly care now. Not when the dawn begins to break over the mountains, painting the sky in soft hues of pink and gold. Not when my husband has saved me.
His strong hands gather me, holding me as if I were the world’s most precious thing. I want to cling to him, to stay in this moment forever, but my heart stutters, a painful reminder that time is slipping away. Each beat grows weaker, and with every shudder, darkness closes in. I feel the heaviness of my body, the way my breath comes in shallow gasps.
Out of the corner of my eye, I notice something. Something he will need soon. Out of all the memories flashing before my eyes, it’s the one thing that seems like a compass point, a touchstone. So, I reach for the pumpkin head and force myself to speak through the deep, throbbing pain in my chest, my voice barely above a whisper. “You will needthis.”
I hand him the piece of our love—a symbol and a seal. “I love you, Jack.” I blink through tears, take the deepest breath, and proclaim, “I…I am Jackson Elias Moore.”
“No, fuck, Belle, stay with me! Oh, dear god in heaven!” His voice is filled with love and anguish as he watches me slip away. How can he ask me that? I’m always with him. Always here.
The dawn breaks, the light revealing him for the first time to me. And I’m convinced he is the most beautiful man that ever walked this earth.
I can’t believe he is…mine.
Darkness closes in like a brutal fist, ripping me away from him.
