Derek stood tall and completely still. The large iron gates behind him were open. He had ridden straight in. The snow was falling steadily, landing on his broad shoulders and his dark winter cloak. He held his heavy longsword in his right hand. The polished steel gleamed in the light of the wall torches.
He looked incredibly dangerous. His face was a mask of cold, hard fury. His dark eyes bypassed all the guards with swords and locked directly onto the man holding his wife.
Immediately, as Marissa saw Derek standing there in the snow, the terrible fear in her chest vanished. Her tense muscles relaxed just a fraction. A small, genuine smile broke through the dirt and despair on her face. He had come for her. He had kept his promise.
"Derek," Marissa whispered softly. The single word held all her love and all her relief.
