It had already been a week since the Duke had left Everton. He stood at the grave of another victim of the attack.
He and his men pushed shovel full after shovel full into the hole as the cleric placed a blessing on the burial.
All that was on Sterling's mind was ending this madness and returning to Faye.
His nights since he left the fortress had been filled with strange and disturbing dreams.
So much so he was fearful of closing his eyes because he did not know what his subconscious would show him next.
Faye kept appearing in his dreams. Her face showed distress each time he saw her, and just as it was about to become clear what he was witnessing, he would wake.
His heart would race, pounding against his chest as he jolted awake, drenched in a cold sweat.
The lingering images of Faye's distressed face haunted him, etching themselves into his mind like a vivid painting.
