“There’s no going back, Soren. But I’m going to die soon. And then… you’ll never get to torture me again.”
She stumbled out of the room in a daze. Soren was already gone.
The night wind of Kingsport cut like razors, slicing through her exposed skin. Each gust felt like it was peeling her alive.
Snow whirled under the streetlamps, and for a moment Linnea was back in the first year they’d been together.
Her grandmother had just died. She’d run away, weeping, without telling a soul.
Soren had turned down deals worth millions to search for her, combing the city for three hours before finding her by the frozen lake.
It had been snowing then too. His eyes were bloodshot as he stripped off his coat and wrapped her tight.
“Linnea, how could you run off alone? Do you know how worried I was?”
He shoved her freezing hands into his coat, warming them with his own shivering body.
“Soren… I don’t have a grandmother anymore.”
His face softened instantly. His voice went hoarse.
“You know I can’t do anything to you.”
She had cried herself to sleep in his arms that night. He had carried her ten kilometers home through the snow.
Back then, she had never felt cold.