Chapter 14 #2
"He will. They're working on it. And when they find him—" Astrid's eyes are hard. "That ring is coming home. One way or another."
I want to believe her.
Want to believe that some part of this nightmare can be undone, but the ring feels like everything that was taken from me.
My sense of safety.
My peace of mind.
My future.
All of it, gone.
Ripped away by a man who wanted to send a message.
"I'm so angry," I whisper.
"Good."
"What?"
"Good. Angry is good. Angry means you're fighting.
Angry means you're not giving up." Astrid's grip tightens on my hand.
"Be angry, Ingrid. Let it burn. Let it fuel you.
Because the best revenge against that bastard isn't falling apart—it's surviving.
Thriving. Building the life he tried to take from you. "
"I don't feel like I can build anything right now."
"You don't have to. Not today. Today you just have to breathe. Tomorrow you breathe again. And eventually—maybe not soon, but eventually—you'll be ready to build."
She helps me up off the floor.
Slowly, carefully.
My ribs protest every movement.
My head spins from crying.
But I make it to my feet.
Make it back to the bed.
That feels like a victory, however small.
"Have you eaten?" Astrid asks.
"I'm not hungry."
"That wasn't the question. Have you eaten?"
I try to remember.
Gunnar brought me something last night.
Soup, maybe?
I took a few bites.
"Not really."
"Then I'm getting you food. Real food. And you're going to eat it." She holds up a hand when I start to protest. "I don't care if you're not hungry. Your body needs fuel to heal. So you're going to eat something even if I have to feed you myself."
"You're bossy."
"I'm your big sister. It's literally my job."
She disappears downstairs.
I lie back against the pillows.
Stare at the ceiling.
Try to make sense of everything swirling inside me.
Fear.
Anger.
Grief.
Hope.
All of it tangled together in a knot I can't unravel.
My eyes drift to my bare finger again.
The absence there is a constant ache.
A missing piece.
I think about the ring—the emerald that matched my eyes, the vintage setting, the diamonds that sparkled in the light.
I think about the woman who wore it for fifty years.
The love story it represented.
I was supposed to be the next chapter of that story.
And now—
Now I don't know what I am.
Astrid returns with a tray.
Toast.
Eggs.
Orange juice.
Simple food that won't upset my stomach.
"Eat," she orders.
I manage half the eggs and a few bites of toast.
It's more than I've eaten in days.
"Better," Astrid says approvingly. "Tomorrow we try for the whole plate."
"Baby steps."
"Exactly."
We sit in silence for a while, then the door opens and Gunnar appears.
He looks tired.
Dark circles under his eyes.
Stubble he hasn't bothered to shave.
But when he sees me sitting up, eating, something in his expression eases.
"Hey." He crosses to the bed. "How are you feeling?"
"Better. A little." I glance at Astrid. "My sister force-fed me."
"Someone had to," Astrid says without apology. "She's been starving herself."
"I haven't been starving myself. I just wasn't hungry."
"Same thing."
Gunnar's lips twitch.
Almost a smile.
"Thank you," he says to Astrid. "For being here."
"Where else would I be? She's my baby sister." Astrid stands, stretches. "But I should go check in with Geirolf. Let him know she's okay." She leans down, kisses my forehead. "Call me if you need anything. Day or night. I mean it."
"I will."
She squeezes Gunnar's shoulder on her way out.
Then it's just us.
He sits on the edge of the bed.
Takes my hand.
His thumb traces circles on my skin.
"Bad morning?" he asks quietly.
"I had that nightmare. And then I—I saw myself. In the mirror." My voice wavers. "I didn't recognize myself."
"The bruises will fade. The swelling will go down. You're going to heal."
"What about the parts that don't show?"
He's quiet for a moment. "Those heal too. It just takes longer."
"How do you know?"
"Because I've seen it. Men in the club who've been through hell and come out the other side. Women who've survived things that should've broken them." He lifts my hand to his lips. "You're strong, Ingrid. Stronger than you know. And you're not going to face this alone."
"Promise?"
"Promise."
I look down at our joined hands.
At my bare finger.
He follows my gaze.
"We're going to find him," he says.
"Are you?"
"Yes. My dad's working on something—facial recognition, security footage from the spa. We're close. I can feel it."
"And when you find him?"
His expression hardens.
Cold.
Lethal.
"Then he pays for what he did."
"I want my ring back."
The words come out small.
Vulnerable.
Not the fierce demand I wanted.
But honest.
"I know it's just a thing," I continue. "Just metal and stones. But it wasn't just a ring. It was—it was our future. Our fifty years. And he took it like it was nothing."
"It wasn't nothing. And like I’ve said before, I'm going to get it back." Gunnar's voice is certain. Absolute. "When we find him—and we will find him—I'm going to get your ring back. I swear it."
"What if he sold it? What if it's gone?"
"Then I buy you a new one. A better one. One with an even bigger emerald." He cups my face with his free hand. "But I don't think he sold it. Men like him—they keep trophies. Reminders of what they've done. Your ring is probably sitting in a drawer somewhere, waiting for me to come take it back."
"You make it sound so simple."
"It is simple. He has something that belongs to you. I'm going to take it back." His thumb brushes my uninjured cheek. "That ring is going back on your finger where it belongs. And then we're going to get married and have the fifty years we promised each other."
"Fifty years."
"At least."
"Even if I'm a mess? Even if I have nightmares and flinch at loud noises and cry in bathrooms?"
"Nothing could ever make me not want to be with you, Ingrid.
" He leans in, presses his forehead to mine.
"I didn't fall in love with a perfect woman, Ingrid.
I fell in love with you. All of you. The good parts and the broken parts.
The strong parts and the scared parts. And I'm going to spend the rest of my life loving every piece of you. "
I close my eyes.
Let his words wash over me.
Let myself believe them.
"I love you," I whisper.
"I love you too."
"Promise you'll be careful. When you go after him."
"I promise."
"I can't lose you. Not now. Not after everything."
"You won't lose me." He pulls back, meets my eyes. "I'm coming back. With your ring. And that bastard is going to regret ever touching what's mine."
The possessiveness in his voice should probably bother me.
It doesn't.
"Okay," I say.
"Okay?"
"Okay. Go find him. Get my ring back. Make him pay." I manage a small smile. "And then come home to me."
"Always."
He kisses me.
Soft.
Careful.
Full of promises.
When he pulls away, there's something in his eyes.
Determination.
Purpose.
The look of a man who knows exactly what he has to do.
"I need to go check on the investigation. But I'll be back soon. Astrid's downstairs—"
"I know. I have a feeling she’s going to be around a lot over the next week or so."
He almost smiles. "Sounds like your overbearing older sister to me."
"Go. Do what you need to do. I'll be here."
One more kiss.
Then he's gone.
I settle back against the pillows.
Look at my bare finger one more time.
He's going to get it back.
I believe him.
I have to believe him.
Because right now, that belief is the only thing keeping me from falling apart completely.
The ring.
The justice.
The future we were promised.
It's all out there, waiting.
And Gunnar's going to bring it home.
I just have to be strong enough to wait.
Strong enough to heal.
Strong enough to be the woman he's fighting for.
I can do that.
One breath at a time.
One hour at a time.
One day at a time.
I can do that.