The Runaway Bride of the Grand Wedding
"Let me go. I want to leave," Ella screamed at him.
"Impossible," he roared, almost without thought.
"Then let go of my hand." Ella closed her eyes. With just a little struggle, all of this would be over.
"I'll let you leave—" The sudden shout broke from him.
Ella instinctively tightened her grip on the hand holding hers. She'd been gambling—and she'd won. But the stakes had been too high.
She looked into his eyes, now filled with a tender warmth, even a faint smile touching his lips.
But then—why? Something warm and wet dripped down, landing at her mouth. Almost instinctively, she licked it: salty, bitter. Tears? Was he… crying?
He buried his face in her neck, his voice hoarse and choked, his broad shoulders trembling uncontrollably. His lips moved silently, unable to make a sound.
Lifting his head, he stared at the peaceful face of the woman in his arms, his eyes filled with intense agony. "Ella, if you dare die, I’ll follow you—through the underworld, across the ends of the earth—I’ll cling to you relentlessly. Then you’ll never be rid of me. You’ll regret it."