Cassandra didn't hear the door burst open. She didn't see Lavinia push her way into the room. All she could see was the blood on her father's clothes, and she was frozen in place as his legs buckled and he crumpled to the floor.

Lavinia cried out, a wail of anguish and disbelief, and whatever spell had held Cassandra in position broke. Closing the distance between her father's prone body and herself, she fell to her knees, ignoring the pain it caused her. Lavinia was beside her in an instant, moving faster than normally possible for a pregnant woman. A cry escaped her own lips, a wordless scream for help.

"Father!" Lavinia held his face in her hands. "Stay with me! Just—just hold on!"

Nickolas was there, pressing in beside them. His expert hands pulled apart the blood covered clothes to inspect the wounds.

"You have to do something! Save him!" Cassandra cried, gripping Nickolas's arm without taking her eyes off her father.

He was so pale. His face was gray, and there was death lurking in his eyes. No, no! This couldn't be happening.

"Do something!" Her voice didn't sound the least bit familiar in her ears.

Blood frothed at their father's lips, and Lavinia was weeping. This wasn't how it was supposed to happen. Nickolas was supposed to save him. He was supposed to save them all. How could this be happening?

Time was moving so slow. Each ragged breath her father fought to take seemed to last a lifetime, but at the same time, they too quick. Too soon.

"Hey," he wheezed, and somehow, his hands found Lavinia's and hers. "Sh—sh."

It was an obvious struggle for him to blink, and even his gentle murmuring seemed to cost him greatly. Lavinia pressed his hand to her cheek and kissed it.

"Don't go." She breathed, leaning closer to him. "Please, I need you still."

Ezra let out a choked laugh. "No, my sweet. No." A smile toyed at his lips. "You have—" a gasp interrupted him, and more blood spilled down the side of his face. "Do not let—my—going—ruin it all."

Cassandra leaned closer to catch his words. She forgot that Nickolas was still in the room, and for this moment, it was just Lavinia, their father, and her. Family, again. Reunited—if only for a fleeting moment.

Ezra's eyes flitted to her. "My Cassie—you are—so strong. Don't—give up." His grip tightened slightly on her hand, and even that slight use of his strength seemed to cost him. "Livy," a cough interrupted him. "Don't—let—them—bring you down. Fight—together." A grunt of pain escaped his lips. "Whatever—else—happens, I am—so glad—I could—see the—wonderful—women—you've become. I—wouldn't change—anything. Not—a—single—moment." He looked at Cassandra steadily. Pointedly. "I—regret—nothing—and I—am—so—proud—to call—you—mine."

A sob shook through Cassandra's body. That look, so filled with love—he wouldn't change it. For her, he was happy that everything had happened the way it had. All those years ago, his love for another, his marriage to her mother, his misery, he didn't want to change it. Changing it would mean she was never born, and he wouldn't have given her up even for a chance at his own happiness.

It was always giving with him. Selflessly, he had given his time and resources to earn money to keep her mother and her happy with frivolities, and despite the woman she had become, he had loved her. To him, it didn't matter who had fathered her, he was her father, and nothing had been able to change it.

"Don't go." She sobbed, leaning closer to him.

"I—love—you." He looked tired. So tired. "So—much." His gaze flitted between her and Lavinia.

Footsteps in the hall told her that Ethan and Charles were finally getting here. The ruckus from below must have finally drawn them from whatever room they'd been holed up in. She didn't care, though. All she wanted was more time.

"Wait." Her father's eyes suddenly opened wide, but he wasn't looking at Lavinia or her. He was staring up at the ceiling. "Not—yet." He wheezed. "I'm—not—ready yet. Don't make me go."

Those last words were so clear, so normal. He didn't fight to speak them, and a surge of hope shot through Cassandra's heart.

A gurgled sigh escaped his lips, and he just stopped. His eyes still stared up at the ceiling, but they were. . .dead somehow. There was no spark to them, and his grip on her hand had gone somehow limp.

"No." Cassandra felt horror flood her. "No, no, no, father!" She took his face in her hands. "Father!" Unwittingly, she shook him. She had to wake him up. "No. No." Her breath whistled through her lungs. "Come on, it's ok. You can get up. You can make it. Remember, we have to be strong. Come on!"

She fell over him, her sobs wracking her entire body. This wasn't how it was supposed to happen!

"Cassandra." Nickolas's voice was as gentle as his grip on her shoulders, but it was firm, too. "He's gone." He said and pulled her to her feet. Some part of her brain registered that Ethan was there, doing the same with Lavinia. "There's nothing we can do now."

"No, that's not right!" She cried, struggling against his grip. "This isn't how it's supposed to happen. You promised!"

She turned to face him, and unexplainable anger coursed through her.

"Why didn't you save him?" She pushed against his chest, and he fell back a step. "You were supposed to save him."

She punctuated each word with a punch, and he let her. He could have thrown her across the room, could have ended her in one blow if he wanted, but he just stood there, arms at his sides.

"Say something!" She wailed. "Why? Why did you let this happen?" And she pressed her hands against his chest, leaning on him for support as the sobs wracked her body. "This is all your fault, you bastard. You brought this!"

She shoved away from him, finally looking in his eyes. His face was blank, that old mask drawn into place, and this time, she couldn't see through it. She couldn't see him beyond. All she could see was those eyes that had been so sincere when he promised to protect her father.

"Get out." She said. "Just go."

"Cassie," Lavinia's broken voice protested.

"Leave!" Cassandra screamed. "Haven't you done enough?"

For half a moment, the mask slipped. And she saw him. Raw, broken, real. Her Nickolas.

But then she saw the deep red stain of blood on the study floor.

"Go!" She yelled.

Without a word, he turned, and he left. He walked out the door without a backward glance, and Cassandra collapsed on the floor and wept, because she had failed.

A part of her knew that it wasn't Nickolas's fault. It was hers. She should have done something. It should have been her bleeding out on the carpet. Somehow, that seemed more fair and proper than this.

•>>><><<<•

Of course it was raining. Cassandra traced the path of a raindrop with her eyes as it rolled down the window pane. It had been unnaturally sunny when they buried her father.

She felt cold and isolated. She'd shed every tear she possibly could, and then she'd cried some more. Inside, she was all dried up. Even black felt too bright at the moment.

Her cruel mind kept replaying every kind look or word her father had ever given her. And she was finding it was too little. Greedily, all she could think about was wanting one more. One more hug or kiss, one more word of affection.

Treacherously, she was also finding it difficult to fully remember what he'd looked like. He'd hardly been buried when she searched her mind and found his image was already growing faded. She remembered every word and every action, but the bearer of those was blurred and fuzzy around the edges.

Terror filled her at the thought that one day, all too soon, that person would fade altogether, and she would be left with nothing but the shell of a memory. The idea, that she would forget her own father and feel joy and happiness, made her feel ill. It was like she was turning her back on him in a far worse way than if she'd run off with Nickolas against his wishes.

Nickolas. She closed her eyes. He'd been at the funeral. She seen him watching from a distance, dressed impeccably as usual. She hadn't been able to stomach the thought of going up to him.

Irrational anger plagued her. He'd left her. He'd gone away. The more logical side of her brain reminded her that she'd told him to go, but she shoved the thought aside. She'd needed him, and he'd abandoned her.

She hadn't realized how difficult it would be to fall asleep without him by her side. Over the past few days, she'd grown accustomed to feeling his warmth, feeling him. When she awoke in a bath of sweat and tears, he wasn't there to hold her, and she felt empty and hollowed even more.

"Cassandra?" she ignored Ethan, pressing closer to the window. Didn't they understand that she wanted to be left alone? That's why she'd come to the library after all.

"Cassie." It was Lavinia's voice this time, and she forced herself to turn and look at them.

They stood side by side in the doorway. Entering the room must have seemed like a trespass of some sort. Lavinia wore a pained, worried expression on top of her exhaustion and grief ridden features. She looked like she wanted to say something, but she seemed unable to find the words.

Ethan sighed. "I know you may not want to hear this, but I think you should know all the same. It's about Nickolas." He looked away from her suddenly volatile expression.

"What about him?" Cassandra turned back to the window. "You didn't want him around, Ethan. Well, look at that, you got your wish." She almost choked on the words.

For the first time in her life, she had seen her future. She had seen what life beside Nickolas could be like. She had felt certainty. And then it had all been dashed against the rocks, and her life was a mess of broken pieces.

There was a moment of hesitation as if Ethan almost reconsidered. "It's just that. . .well, he's leaving. The old man he came with already left. He's paid all his bills and everything, and he's going. We'd just like to know if you plan to go with him." He cleared his throat. "There's always a place for you here if you want it, but I think. . .I think you should go."

Cassandra's mind was a numb, sluggish place. "What are you talking about? How do you know?" She said listlessly.

"Charles and I set up a watch on him to make sure. . .well, to make sure he wasn't planning on doing anything. I don't know. It sounds ridiculous now, but that's not the point." Ethan stopped abruptly. "The point is: I think you should know. I think you should go with him. Not because we don't want you here or because we won't miss you—we will." He drew a sharp breath. "I know what it's like to think you can't be with the person you love, and it's torture. I don't think there should be anything holding you back—especially not Lavinia and I."

Cassandra pressed her forehead into the glass, shutting her eyes against the world. She didn't want to think or feel. She wanted to fall into infinite nothing and wrap herself in painless memory.

The door snicked shut as Ethan and Lavinia made their exit. She knew they were worried about her, but they didn't understand. She didn't want to think about Nickolas or the fact that he was leav—

Her eyes snapped open. Nickolas was leaving. That's what they'd said. He was packing his things to go.

Wild terror filled her—the first real, passionate thing she'd felt since they'd carried her father's body out of the study. If he was leaving, that meant she'd never see him again. He would become nothing more than a faded memory, and he might as well join the ranks of the dead. She couldn't let him go like that. She had to stop him.

Leaping to her feet, she burst through the door and raced down the stairs. She had to hurry. She had to get to him. He couldn't go—he couldn't leave her.

Shoving her way out the front door, heedless of the cold weather and her lack of coat, she noticed a servant standing at the front step with a saddled horse.

"You, what are you doing?" She demanded, and the stableboy flinched.

"Lord Fergus had a horse saddled, so he could ride out to visit one of the tenant farms, milady." The boy's voice was uneven.

"Saddle another." She snatched the reins from his trembling hands and fairly launched herself into the saddle.

Amidst the stableboy's weak protests and the discomfort of riding a normal saddle in restricting skirts, she charged down the road without a backward glance. She had to convince him to wait. She had to tell him, make him understand.

Her heart was broken: it needed time to mend properly, but that didn't mean she'd stopped loving him. They'd have to wait a little longer before they could get married, but that didn't mean she'd changed her mind. She still loved him with every bit of her aching heart.

The chill wind bit through her thin clothes, but she urged her horse to go faster. She couldn't be too late. She didn't let herself think about the consequences of arriving after he'd already left, because she knew she'd never be able to find him.

Charles Fergus had some of the best horses in his stable that she'd ever seen, and this animal was no exception. Its pounding hooves ate the distance between the manor and the village in no time. Even Cassandra, who felt like every moment was passing like a small eternity, could appreciate the beautiful animal's long, full stride.

The village was small enough that there was only one pub that lent rooms. Cassandra had heard Charles mention it once to Ethan when they were discussing improvements to the estate.

The Fox and Horn was painted in bold letters on a lightly swaying sign over the door, but she barely gave it a cursory glance. Bursting through the door, she ran up the stairs, ignoring the curious glances of the patrons.

A small hallway housing four doors faced her when she reached the top of the stairs, and she paused. She hadn't thought of how she would know which room Nickolas was staying in. She'd been in such a rush to find him, to stop him that she hadn't given any thought to how she was supposed to do it.

Standing there, she debated running downstairs and asking the pub owner, but what if she missed Nickolas while she was gone? What if he came out and left, and she lost her chance of finding him altogether?

The idea made her frantic, and she propelled herself down the hall. She inspected each door that she passed, two on her left and two on her right, as though they would give her some clue. They didn't. She reached the end of the hall without any clearer an idea where Nickolas might be.

She had just decided to go downstairs to speak to the pub's owner when the door nearest her swung open. A tall, dirty man, who looked like some kind of farmer, stood in the doorway in loose, floppy clothes, a bag slung over his shoulder.

Seeing her, the man bowed quickly at the waist, too frightened to say anything it would see. Cassandra frowned, half turning away from the man with a sigh. What if she was too late? The farmer straightened, and out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of his face. His eyes.

"Nickolas?" She turned fully to him, her breathing shaky.

Her brain registered the truth before her body could catch up, and for a moment, the two fo them stared at each other. She'd looked into those eyes too many times to be mistaken. It had to be him.

"Yer mistaken, missy." The voice was low and gravely, and she caught sight of crooked, yellow teeth. "Who're ya lookin' fur?"

It wasn't his voice, but she didn't care. Crossing the distance between them, she took hold of his hand and stared intently into his eyes. He didn't look away, even though she could tell he wanted to.

"I see you." She whispered, close to tears. "Please, Nickolas. I need to talk to you."

Before she could react, he'd pulled her into the room and shut the door.

"What do you need?" His voice was low, hardly above a whisper.

"Why are you dressed like this?" She whet her lips, reaching for him.

"I can't risk anyone knowing who I am." He put space between them. "Granger has eyes and ears all over the place."

"You're going after him." It wasn't a question, but the look in his eyes was an answer. "You were going to leave without saying 'goodbye'?" She bit her lip.

"What did you expect?" Pain flashed across his face. "You pushed me away, Cassie. Did you want me to force myself on you?" She didn't know how to respond.

So she merely breathed. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that. I shouldn't have blamed you."

"Yes, you should have. You had every right to." Anger danced in Nickolas's eyes, but it was directed toward himself not her. "I promised that I would protect you and your family, and I failed you." The words were brittle and empty, and she realized just how much her tirade had affected him. "And I realized, Cassandra—" His voice was raspy, and she could see the glint of tears in his eyes. "I can't do that to you again. I can't love you."

"What are you talking about?" Her voice broke.

He looked at her for a long moment. "I can't let myself do that to you." He swallowed. "A life with me means a life with a target on your back. The minute our union was public, they'd come for us—for you, and I can't let that happen."

"So you're just going to leave?" Cassandra tried to close the distance between them again, but he was quicker.

"Don't." The word was strangled. "I have to let you go."

"No, please." A sob shook her. "Don't do this! I've already lost so much! Don't make me lose any more. Not just yet." She scrubbed at the tears on her face. "Please. Don't go. Stay, for me."

"I'm going for you, Cassie." His voice broke, and it was the first time she'd seen him cry.

"This isn't protecting me!" She was cold. "You're going to break me."

"You're stronger than that. You don't need me." He drew a ragged breath.

"No, I don't need you, but I want you. I don't care about any of the rest of it. As long as you're here, they can come after me all they like." She said.

"Don't you understand?" He crossed the distance between them in one step, gripping her arms. "I can't—I can't let them. I'm not like you. If they killed you or—or hurt you, I would never forgive myself. I—I don't even know what I would do."

"So you don't love me?" Her voice broke.

His grip on her tightened almost imperceptibly. "It's because I love you that I have to do this. I have to let you go."

"And what about me? They'll still come. Granger is still out there." Mute and numbed, there was a slight tremor of fear in her. Not for herself. No, she wasn't afraid of death, but if Granger had been able to kill her father without breaking a sweat, what would he do to Ethan? To Lavinia? Their unborn child?

"Not for long. I'm going after him, and I won't give up until you're safe." There was fierce promise in his voice.

"And then?" She said, her gaze piercing.

He looked at her steadily and didn't answer, but his silence told her what she needed to know. The moment he walked out that door, she would never see him again. This would be the end. In some strange, inexplainable way, this was far worse than his death would have been. He would be alive, but he wouldn't be here. He wouldn't be with her.

"You were my greatest adventure." His voice was raw with emotion. "I'll never forget any of this, but I can't let you be with me. I can't let you throw your life away like that."

"Shouldn't that be my choice?" Her lip trembled as she spoke. "And Nickolas, you are worth it. We can face it all together." She pleaded.

He released her suddenly as if she were too hot to hold for long. With a visible resurrection of his walls, he tried to put space between them again, but she caught hold of him. Determination welled in her along with chilling desperation, and she pushed herself onto her tiptoes, throwing her arms around his neck.

"Don't go." She whispered, pressing her lips against his.

"I don't have a choice." He murmured against her, and faster than she could have imagined, he'd slipped out of her grasp and ducked out of the door.

Cassandra almost followed him. She almost raced into the hall and fell to her knees to beg him to stay, but it would do no good. By the time that moment of hesitation was over, he was already long gone, and it was too late.

As if it seemed to understand the pain his every step away caused her, her heart thudded painfully within her chest. Her legs turned to jelly and gave way, and she collapsed onto the floor. Tears choked her, and she gasped for air as the sobs shook her, but breathing hurt. Everything hurt. She was going to dive over a cliff into oblivion.

They could have taken her without a struggle. Rough hands took hold of her, hauling her to her feet as if she posed some sort of threat. She didn't fight them. She lost the will to defend herself, going limp in their grasp. She was tired. Exhausted. There was no defiance left in her. They'd won.

———————————

AHHH. Writing this chapter was a chaos of emotions. Saying goodbye to Ezra was the most difficult thing I've written to date. He was such a big part of his girls lives and now, he's gone. I knew this was going to happen around the completion of the first or second chapter. It was time to end his suffering, and for reasons as yet undisclosed, he couldn't be in their lives anymore. I do hope you can forgive me at some point. . .

And now Cassandra's in trouble. Again. With her and Nickolas, they're always leaping out of the frying pan right into the fire. One of these days, they might just burn up.

I'm sorry it took me so long to get this chapter up! I had it all written and ready to go by last Saturday, but then I got suddenly busy and didn't have any time to post. I felt so bad, too, cause I knew all of you were patiently waiting to find out what was going to happen, but hopefully, the length of this chapter can make up for some of that waiting!!