Page 46 of Whispers of Helena
I rise slowly, my thoughts heavy. I turn off the lamp on his nightstand, leaving his room dim and quiet. As I close the door behind me, the warmth of our exchange lingers in the hall, tainted by my darker thoughts.
In the silence of my room, I press my back against the closed door, my head falling back, surrendering to the torment that churns within me.
“Caroline, if you can hear me,” I whisper into the emptiness. “He misses you. I still miss you.”
My gaze rises toward the ceiling, seeking answers where there are none. “Would you be angry with me if there was someone new?” I ask, my voice trembling. “She’s a Christian woman, like you were. She takes care of Kiran...she’s kind. But I can’t help feeling like I’m betraying you.”
The silence stretches thin, offering no comfort, no sign. The only response comes from the mournful howl of a wolf carried on the wind beyond the trees.
I hoverin the restless haze of sleeplessness until just before midnight. The illusion of peace no longer comforts me. With Helena as a catalyst, my soul churns with an ache for finality, a need to put an end to what I’ve allowed to fester for four long years. It cannot go on any longer.
Out of bed, I step soundlessly through my room. Boots on, I grab my keys from the dresser, the metal cold in my grasp. I slip out of the house and head toward the stables, the night air heavy with the scent of damp earth and faded hay.
Inside, I work swiftly, my hands steady as I prepare Shadow. His coat glints in the low light, his dark eyes mirroring my resolve. Everything set, I guide him out of the stables. Rope in hand, I swing up onto the saddle, my movements sure, fueled by the seething quiet of purpose.
As Shadow and I approach the treeline, the vast expanse of night greets us with little solace. The sliver of moon hanging in the sky offers only the faintest illumination, casting long, ghostly shadows over the land. Darkness consumes most of the trail ahead, forcing me to rely on instinct, every creak of the leather saddle and muted hoofbeat against the ground sharpening my focus.
Shadow quickened his pace once we passed into the open pastures, the cool night air rushing past as we cut through the familiar landscape. When we near the eastern edge of my property, I guide him closer to the tree line, keeping us hidden from view. Everly's land looms just beyond, its outlines stark against the dim horizon.
My jaw tightens as fury smolders in my chest, anger mingling with the steely resolve that’s driven me here. The past claws at me, vivid and raw, igniting a flame that can’t be extinguished. Tonight,I’ll face the man who wants to claim my land as his. Tonight, the anxiety I’ve carried will lift.
The air feels heavier here, charged with the promise of retribution. My pulse pounds in time with Shadow’s steady gait as I whisper into the silence around me, my words laced with conviction.
“Tonight, Bennett Everly dies.”
Drop
Helena
We are troubled on every side, yet not distressed; we are perplexed, but not in despair;
2 Corinthians 4:8
I standat the kitchen sink, my hands gripping the edge so tightly my knuckles go white. The window’s faint reflection of my furrowed brow does nothing to distract me from the dark expanse beyond it. The stables are dimly lit, silent and still. I strain my eyes, willing Silas to emerge with Shadow. Tonight, the pull in my chest is unbearable, the questions too loud to ignore. I can’t stand at my bedroom window again, like a prisoner behind glass, powerless as he vanishes into the night. Ineedto know.
As if sensing my resolve, Silas appears. A shadow, tall and unwavering, moves out of the stables. Shadow’s powerful form shimmers under the meager light of the stars. I see Silas swing into the saddle, his movements purposeful. My pulse quickens as he nudges Shadow forward, the pair swiftly blending into the black ribbon of trees. I grab my flannel, shoving my arms through thesleeves as I slip into my boots. The door rattles on its hinges as I race into the cool night air.
I rush to the stables; Merriweather huffs softly, pawing at the dirt floor. “I need your help,” I whisper, my voice trembling with urgency as I slide a harness over her head. My fingers fumble for a moment before finding the buckles. She shakes her head in protest, but I murmur to her, stroking her neck until she calms. Dragging over a hay bale, I leap onto her bare back, the rough bristles scratching my bare legs as my nightgown gathers at the top of my thighs. There’s no saddle tonight; I can’t waste the time.
We head out into the vast night, heavy shadows folding in around us. The trees close in, their branches clawing at the air, creating a jagged frame for the sky. A sliver of a moon hangs low, doing little to fight the inky blackness. Merriweather’s rhythmic hoofbeats on the soft trail thuds in my ears.
I guide her to the edge of the clearing, slipping into the cover of the dense brush. The trees are eerily quiet, my breath loud against the hushed symphony of chirping crickets. The eastern border of the property rises ahead, its thin line of trees looking almost skeletal against the low glow from beyond. It’s been years since I’ve seen this part of the land, and I’m struck by the unnatural newness of the neighboring property. A barn stands proud, its wooden face gleaming even in the dark, and beside it, the imposing silhouette of a two-story house looms.Why here?My mind churns with possibilities, but none explain why Bennett would build this far from the road.
Ahead, Silas gallops with an urgency I’ve never seen, the fevered pace kicking up clouds of dust in the pale moonlight. He heads into the thin line of trees marking Everly’s property without hesitation. I hold Merriweather back, her gentle gait blending with the soft rustle of leaves around us. Silas moves like a man on a mission, dismounting in one fluid motion as Shadow snorts and tosses his mane. A coiled rope gleams in Silas’s hand, dangling at his side like a predator’s leash.
From the cover of the trees, I watch, my chest tightening as I strain to see through the oppressive dark. Silas strides across theyard with a startling boldness, as though he owns it, his back straight, his movements deliberate. Not once does he check his surroundings. My eyes dart toward the barn, where a police car sits idle, its lights out. The officer inside is oblivious, his line of sight completely blocked by the house.What the hell is Silas doing?
I nudge Merriweather forward, her hooves pressing into the soft carpet of leaves with a sound that seems impossibly loud in the stillness. Every crunch feels like a gunshot, my pulse pounding in time with the beat of her steps. My fingers tremble on the reins, sweat slicking my palms despite the chill in the air. With shallow breaths, I lean against her neck, my focus narrowing on Silas, a phantom against the faint light of the house. A jagged tug of fear knots in my gut, coiling tighter with every move he makes.
Silas halts, blending into the shadows like he’s part of the night itself. He keeps to the side of a window, his silhouette still as he peers into the glass. The house looms dark and silent, every trace of light extinguished in the hour past midnight. He waits, poised and calculating, his figure etched in stark relief under the glow of the security lights. My chest tightens as I watch him pull away from the window, retreating farther into the black where he becomes more shadow than man. Then, with determination, he heads for the back door.
His hand moves to his pocket, pulling out what looks like a worn wallet. But it isn’t. I watch as he opens it, extracting something too rigid to be mere bills or cards. A slim, silvery tool catches the light for a brief second. My breath hitches as he leans into the door, one hand gripping the knob while the other works the tool in the lock above. The unmistakable sound of the metallic jiggle carries across the yard to where I crouch.
He’s breaking into Bennett’s home.I scream the thought in my mind, no words escaping my lips. My throat feels dry, my voice a prisoner of my growing panic. Cold dread washes over me as my gaze shifts to the tightly coiled rope under his arm. He isn’t just breaking in—he’s here for Bennett. The dark purpose looming in the air is undeniable now, heavy and suffocating.
“Fuck, Silas, no,” I whisper, the sound no louder than the rustle of leaves. My lips press against Meriweather’s mane, my body trembling with the knowledge of what’s to come if I don’t stop him.
I rest my forehead against the warmth of the horse’s neck. Closing my eyes, I force the panic back with a sharp inhale, and focus every ounce of strength on a desperate call to him.
