Chapter 206

Iris

For a moment, I can only stare at the massive wolf standing in front of us with Nora’s unconscious body hanging from his jaws. I’m in shock, unable to move or speak or do anything except pinch my arm to make sure I’m not dreaming. Even when I don’t wake up from that dream, I can still hardly believe it.

Arthur. He heard my plea and he came.

He drops Nora unceremoniously onto the forest floor and shifts. A moment later, Arthur’s human form is standing there in the same suit he was wearing at the gala, although it’s now streaked with dirt and torn in a couple of places.

“Arthur,” I breathe, taking a step toward him. I’m almost hesitant to close the distance, as if he might turn on me and go back to Veronica at the last moment, still enthralled by the fake scent she covered herself with.

But he doesn’t. Unlike before, his green eyes are now clear and focused. He takes a halting step forward, as if just as fearful that I might not forgive him as I am fearful that he’ll leave again, and I know immediately that whatever hold Veronica had on him is gone.

And then I’m moving, rushing into his arms and slamming into him with enough force to knock the wind out of both of us. He catches me and holds me tight, and I want him to never let go.

“You came,” I whisper, my voice muffled by his chest.

“I heard you,” he murmurs. “I felt you calling for me, and I knew something was wrong.”

Ezra moves toward Nora, kneeling to check her pulse.

“I found her running through the woods,” Arthur explains, pulling back just enough to look at Ezra, then at me. “She was covered in blood—your mother’s blood, judging from the scent. I didn’t… I couldn’t let her get away.”

“Did you…” I swallow hard, glancing at Nora’s unmoving body. The old woman is limp and quiet, and there’s a bloody gash on her temple.

“No. Of course not.” Arthur shakes his head. “I wanted to. Goddess knows I wanted to. But I didn’t kill her. She slipped and hit her head on a rock when she saw me coming. I figured you would want her alive.”

Ezra nods to confirm that Nora does indeed have a pulse, and I’m relieved, not because I care about Nora—right now, I could happily watch her burn for what she did to my mother—but because this is proof that Arthur is truly himself again. The Arthur I know and love wouldn’t intentionally hurt anyone.

“Thank you,” I whisper, not just for sparing Nora, but for coming when I called, for being here now when I need him the most.

Arthur nods, his jaw tightening, and suddenly I can’t hold back anymore. All the fear, the anger, the hurt of the past weeks comes crashing down around me, and I launch myself at him again. My arms wrap around his neck, and I desperately press my lips to his.

He responds immediately, his arms encircling my waist and drawing me closer. He kisses me like the world is about to end, or perhaps like he’s been lost in darkness and I’m the first light he’s seen in weeks. I suppose, in a way, that’s exactly what happened.

When we finally break apart, breathless and exhausted, I can’t stop the tears that spill down my cheeks. But this time, my anger outweighs my passion. I pull back, and my fists come up to beat against his chest.

“You stupid, stupid man,” I sob, each word separated by a weak punch. “How could you let her do that to you? How could you forget us? Forget me?”

Arthur catches my wrists gently, stilling my assault. “I told you that I never forgot you, Iris,” he says softly. He presses a kiss to each of my knuckles until my fists unclenched. “Not really. Even in the deepest fog, there was always a part of me that knew something was wrong, that knew I belonged with you.”

“Then why didn’t you fight harder?” I demand, even as I let him pull me back into his embrace, even as I know the answer. “Why did you let her take you away from us?”

“I don’t know,” he admits. “Whatever she was using, it was powerful. It made me see things that weren’t there, believe things that weren’t true. But I swear to you, Iris, I will never let anyone get between us again. Never.”

I want to stay angry. I want to make him suffer just a fraction of what I’ve endured these past weeks. But I can’t. Not when he’s holding me like this, not when I can feel his heart beating against mine.

Especially not when my mother is bleeding out on a stretcher with a knife protruding from her chest.

“My mother,” I say, pulling back. “We need to go. She’s—”

“I know,” Arthur says. “Let’s go.”

He keeps one arm around me as we hurry back toward the house. Ezra follows closely behind with Nora, who is beginning to stir with weak groans, slung over his shoulder. The paramedics have already loaded my mother into the ambulance by the time we emerge from the woods. My father is climbing in beside her.

“Wait!” I call, breaking away from Arthur to run toward them as Ezra hands Nora off to the police. “I’m coming too!”

The paramedic nods and makes room for me in the back of the ambulance. I turn back to Arthur, who’s standing with Ezra—making no move to join me.

“Go,” Arthur says gently, offering me a weak smile. “Be with your mother. I have other things to handle.”

He doesn’t need to clarify for me to know what he means. And it’s not just Nora he’s referring to; it’s Veronica. I glance at Ezra, who gives me a firm nod. Goddess above, if Ezra lets anything happen to Arthur, I’ll throttle him.

“Miss, we need to go,” one of the paramedics calls from the ambulance. “Your mother’s condition is critical.”

With one last glance at Arthur, I take my father’s outstretched hand and climb into the back of the ambulance. My father makes room for me beside him, and I take my mother’s other cold hand in mine. She looks so small, so fragile lying there, her skin pale against the white sheets of the stretcher. They’ve removed the knife and packed the wound, but it’s still horrifying seeing her like this.

“I love you,” Arthur calls just before the doors close. “I’ll meet you at the hospital as soon as I can.”

I nod, unable to form words past the lump in my throat. The doors swing shut, and the ambulance lurches forward, sirens wailing as we speed toward the hospital.

Through the small rear window, I catch one last glimpse of Arthur standing in the moonlight. His jaw is set hard, eyes glinting with something that I can only describe as righteous determination.

And in his hand, pressed against his heart as if acting as a last line of defense against the woman who tried to separate us, is my handkerchief.