AN UNEXPECTED SAY

CHAPTER 7: AN UNEXPECTED SAY

ANNA POV…..

Something was off.

His eyes—once golden brown and inviting—were now deep red and deadly. His face was contorted with rage, and his lips trembled with a pain so raw it looked like it had been carved Into him. As I stared at him, panic surged through me like a tidal wave, and I couldn’t hide it.

I shivered and stumbled back. Yes, I was scared—terrified, in fact—of this being I had once mistaken for an angel. But bloody hell, he wasn’t. There was no way an angel could look this terrifying, this deadly.

“What are you trying to do again?” he growled. His voice was like thunder layered over thunder, as if a thousand voices spoke at once. It dripped with authority—so much so that even the strongest of men would fall to their knees.

“What was the last bargain?” he thundered, his presence overwhelming. “Didn’t I ask you to avenge your family? Why are you here again, repeating the same mistake I saved you from?”

His words struck me like lightning, and I trembled even more. The fear in me built so fast, so fierce, that I didn’t even notice when I wet myself.

“You pathetic loser,” he hissed, stepping toward me with explosive force. “How dare you try to end your life again?”

I staggered back, shielding myself instinctively from whatever he might do.

“Why are you so ungrateful? So senseless?” He grabbed my wrist and tossed it away like it meant nothing.

“If I hadn’t appeared when I did, you would have killed yourself, wouldn’t you?” He gripped my chin and screamed directly into my face. I could only stare, paralyzed. I was too afraid to speak. Too afraid to even breathe.

“So what then? You die and escape the world? Is that your grand plan, you senseless bitch?” He wasn’t finished. Not even close. And deep down, I couldn’t understand why he was so obsessed with keeping me alive. Why he was so furious about my decision to die. I wanted to ask—but I didn’t dare. I was too scared. Terrified.

I feared he might strangle me and leave my lifeless body right there on the floor. Yes, I wanted to die—but not like that. Not so cruelly.

“If you don’t answer me, I’ll make you regret it,” he snarled.

Another glance into his burning red eyes told me he wasn’t bluffing.

“I… I’m tir—ed of living,” I stammered. The words escaped without my permission, driven out by the sheer force of fear.

“You’re tired of living?” he repeated, chuckling darkly.

But as his laughter faded, so did his rage. The crimson drained from his eyes, returning them to their warm golden brown. His face softened, the fury vanishing like smoke, replaced by an expression far gentler than I expected.

Slowly, the fear I once housed started to disappear. Not completely, his previous form still haunted me, but enough for me to breathe again.

“Why?” he asked, gently this time.

His question snapped me back to reality. I found myself staring into his eyes, as if the answer might be written somewhere deep within them.

“I want to end it before my sickness does,” I said quietly. I hadn’t planned to speak, but the words came anyway.

“Today, the doctor confirmed I have an incurable heart condition,” I added quietly.

“I have less than a year to live.” I spoke casually, almost as if the words meant nothing. I was already starting to get used to this new reality. The same words that once felt too heavy to speak now floated from my lips like feathers.

“So I wanted to end it—before the sickness does,” I added with a soft, bitter chuckle. “It would be too shameful if the illness took me first. I don’t think I could handle that.”

I looked at him—though I wasn’t sure why. Maybe I was searching his face for some trace of shared pain, a flicker of empathy. But there was none. He was smiling.

That smile hit me like a punch to the chest. It felt like mockery—like he was enjoying my suffering. And maybe he was.

But I should be used to it by now. Everyone always seems to turn my pain into some kind of cruel joke. Why should he be any different?

“I will help you.”

His words came out of nowhere. At first, they didn’t register. I blinked, confused. But once they settled in, I chuckled bitterly. Was he insane? How could he possibly help me?

“Were you so busy mocking me that you didn’t hear what I said?” I snapped, my voice sharp with anger. I couldn’t believe it—he was doing exactly what everyone else did. Making a mockery of me.

“Let’s make a deal, Anna Stone,” he said, pulling out a piece of paper and a pen from his massive brown wool jacket. He repeated the words again, slower this time. “Let’s make a deal—and I’ll take away your sickness.”

I was furious now. My blood boiled. How dare he? How could he say that with such calm, with no shame in his eyes?

I stared at him, hard. I regretted everything in that moment—regretted opening up to him, regretted ever telling him my truth. If I hadn’t, he wouldn’t have had the power to twist it into a game.

“Get lost,” I spat, turning back toward the sea, my eyes burning with fury. “Stop me again, and I swear, I’ll show you what I’m really made of.”

Then he said something that stopped me cold.

“Marry me, and I’ll save your life.”

His words stung like a bee’s sting—sharp and unexpected. I turned slowly to face him, stunned.

“Marry me,” he repeated, “and I’ll save your life. Or die like a fool.”