Elsewhere, far from the deep in the wild—beneath the midnight oak moon in the night sky—tiny specks of frosty snow saturate the air.
Rhett finally slows the motorbike, the engine sighing into silence.
Neva's hair flows with the rhythm of the breeze.
Now, safely beyond Raka's reach, Rhett breathes steadily at last, a sense of solace wrapping around him.
The cold winter air numbs his muscles, yet a smile lingers on his lips from the warmth pressed close against him—Neva clinging to his frame.
On this silent night, at the end of the year's course, Neva watches the feathery flutter of snowflakes. Her head rests on Rhett's back, her thoughts drifting quietly toward the future ahead.
And though uncertainty looms, her heart beats serene.
For she has already become sole with the soul of her beloved—riding the current of life hand in hand with him.
The ivory-coated pines and twinkling Christmas lights on the streets dazzle in the darkness as they break away—far from where their cozy home should be.
With her head hushed and clear, she thinks she could leave everything behind. Bare and unburdened, as long as her Father shelters them—as long as Rhett walks by her side.
The road begins to fade, time rushing past them.
Rhett pulls up at the outskirts of a quiet town. Neva reluctantly peels herself away from his warmth. She dismounts, removes her helmet, and hands it to him.
Her eyes catch the glow of a honey-lit, vintage inn with lace-curtained windows.
"You must be cold," Rhett says softly, taking her hands in his and rubbing warmth into them before pressing a kiss to her knuckles.
"We're staying here tonight?" Neva tilts her head, her gaze drifting back to the inn.
"Just for tonight." He smiles.
She reaches up, coaxing him to bow slightly so she can brush away the snow clinging to his mist-dusted hair.
Rhett's heart softens at her touch, his tender eyes meeting hers. "Let's warm you up inside," he murmurs, brushing snowflakes from her hair too.
Neva smiles, nodding in response.
Mirroring her smile, he presses a kiss to her cheek. Fingers entwined, he leads her to the inn's entrance.
As they walk in, the soft ting of bells overhead chimes through the quiet space. The manager, a chubby man in his mid—fifties greets them with a kind smile.
Neva exhales a smoky breath, the warmth of the interior immediately sinking deep into her. Rhett exchanges a few words with the manager and secures a key.
"Let's go," he says, taking her hand once more as they walk down a dimly lit hallway. They pass several closed doors before reaching theirs at the very end.
Rhett unlocks the door with a faint click and pushes it open.
Neva steps inside first, her eyes lighting up at the sight.
A warm bed rests at the center, dressed in white Victorian ruffle sheets and plush blankets.
The room's countrycore charm—worn wood, lace curtains, golden lamps—cradles them in warmth.
She shrugs off her damp jacket and hangs it on the wooden stand by the entrance. As she strolls toward the bed, Rhett follows—then suddenly halts her by the wrist, pulling her into his arms.
A faint gasp escapes Neva, but she finds herself thawing as he wraps his arms around her waist, burying his face in the crook of her neck.
"I shouldn't have left you. It's all my fault," he murmurs, voice muffled against her skin.
Neva smiles faintly at the frantic beat of his heart against her back. She leans into him, stroking his arms gently.
"It's not your fault, Rhett," she whispers.
"I'm so sorry." He inhales her sweet scent, tightening his arms around her, afraid she might just vanish.
"Don't be. I'm safe here—with you," she assures softly.
He hums, low and deep, the vibration warming her skin.
"You're rigid from cold." Neva turns, cupping his chilled cheeks.
"You're not to blame for anything.
And I'm so thankful to you—for being here." She presses a little kiss to the tip of his cold nose, a soft laugh escaping her as he scrunches his nose playfully.
"Go take a warm bath, hmm?" she urges, worried about the pale tint on his face.
"Let's bathe together," he says suddenly.
Her eyes widen. "Absolutely not!"
He frowns, wounded. "Why not?"
"Because we're not married yet!" she blurts—then immediately regrets it, her face flushing.
"Then let's get married tomorrow," he declares, eyes alight with certainty.
He means it—with his soul, his bones, his everything.
Neva clutches his hands tightly.
"Rhett, nothing can harm us." Her honeyed eyes find his, steady, grounding him. She wraps her arms around his waist, resting her head against his chest and rubbing his back soothingly.
"You're my beloved," he whispers, wrapping his arms around her. After a beat of pause, his voice deepens. "You're all mine, Neva," he says, tightening his hold.
Neva embraces him quietly, wishing that all the horrors behind them were nothing but a distant dream.
"Angel, you go first," he murmurs sadly.
Neva pulls back slightly, chuckling at his pitiful pout.
"I'm cold—but you're frozen." She rubs his nose with hers playfully.
Then she takes his hand and leads him to the bathroom door.
"Alright, alright—I'll be done soon." He steals one more kiss from her pink lips before slipping inside.
Neva giggles softly, her worries drifting away—even if only for a little while.