Chapter 138 The Woman in His Heart
Three years had passed, but the memory of that night was still burned into Dorian’s mind.
The air had been bitterly cold, the mountain wind howled without stopping, and the tall grass was soaked with freezing dew.
Dorian had lay flat on his stomach in that dark valley, his body completely broken and his strength fading fast. He could not see a thing, he could not hear a sound, and he could not move so much as a finger to help himself.
He had been fully prepared to die right there in the mud.
And then she had appeared out of nowhere.
A total stranger. A woman whose face he could not even make out through the dark. She had stumbled across him in the pitch blackness, dragged his heavy frame through the dirt, and cleverly hidden him from the mercenaries hunting him down.
When the freezing cold threatened to take his life, she had not hesitated to hold him close.
Her arms had wrapped tightly around his chest, her body pressed flush against his back to share her heat, and her soft, steady breath brushed against his neck all through the long night.
He had not been able to see what she looked like. He had not been able to hear her voice. He did not even know her name.
Yet he had felt her warmth, her quiet kindness, and her incredible courage under pressure.
For the very first time in his cold, guarded life, Dorian had felt truly safe in someone else’s arms.
The terrifying hours spent waiting for help to arrive had ended up passing by in what felt like a blink. He was not afraid, he did not feel alone, and for once, he was the one being protected.
When the first pale light of morning finally broke over the mountains, the woman began to move.
She carefully slipped out from behind him, her boots brushing through the wet grass as she searched the nearby ground. It did not take her long to find his heavy pistol, which had slipped from his holster when he threw himself off the cliff. It was lying in the weeds, cold and covered in dirt.
She picked it up, cradling the cold metal in her hands for a moment to warm it against her skin before carefully setting it down right beside his hand where he could reach it.
Then, she pulled out a small scrap of paper from her bag. She wrote a short note, placed it gently on his bare chest, and prepared to leave.
Dorian felt the soft vibrations traveling through the ground. She was walking away.
Panic spiked through his chest, making his heart hammer against his ribs. His throat locked up, but he refused to let her just walk out of his life without a word.
Gathering every last bit of energy left in his body, he forced his arm upward. His trembling fingers reached out blindly and managed to snap shut around her wrist.
He opened his mouth, trying desperately to call out to her, but his damaged throat produced nothing more than a quiet, painful rasp. He tried to tug her back, silently begging her to stay until help arrived.
She stopped in her tracks and looked down at him.
Dorian strained his useless eyes, but all he could make out was a blurry, dark silhouette standing against the pale morning sky. He could not capture a single detail of her face.
Gently, but firmly, she unclasped his fingers and pulled her wrist free.
Without saying a word, she turned around and vanished into the thick morning fog.
The rescue team finally arrived a couple of hours later.
Kaelen had led the ground crew straight to his position after Butler Hu received the emergency call and relayed the coordinates. They carefully loaded Dorian onto a stretcher, carried him up to the waiting helicopter, and rushed him to the nearest hospital in the city.
The medical team worked on him for days, treating his severe wounds, patching up the bullet holes, setting his broken ribs, and treating his heavy concussion.
They managed to save his life, but the woman who had kept him alive through the worst night of his existence was nowhere to be found.
The moment Dorian was able to stand on his own two feet, he launched a massive search for her. He sent teams to comb through every inch of the Forest, interviewed local villagers, and checked every hospital record in the province. He went through missing persons reports and paid off local police contacts for files.
He found absolutely nothing.
She had completely vanished into thin air, leaving zero trace behind.
He did not know her real name, he had no idea what her face looked like, and he did not even know which city she came from.
Yet no matter how much time passed, he could not stop thinking about her.
Because she had saved his life on July 7th, he had quietly started calling her Iris in his own mind.
It was a special name he had chosen just for her, a private secret he kept locked away in the deepest corner of his heart. He did not care if it was her actual name or not; to him, she would always be Iris.
Finding her had turned into a deep, quiet obsession over the years. For three long years, he had searched for any sign of her. For three long years, he had held onto the hope that their paths would cross again. For three long years, he had dreamed of the day he could look into her eyes and thank her properly.
And then Veyra had suddenly crashed into his world.
She had walked straight into his life without an invitation or any warning. She was sharp, stubborn, and constantly challenged him at every turn. Yet she had also stood up for him, defended his honor, and made him feel emotions he thought had died years ago.
He could not deny that he was drawn to her. He could not control the spark that flared up whenever she was near.
But deep down, he knew the truth. Veyra was not Iris.
Dorian stood at the very edge of the high cliff, staring out at the frozen mountain peaks as the freezing wind whipped his heavy coat around his legs.
He thought about the way Veyra had boldly stepped up to defend him in front of everyone. He remembered the loud crack when she slapped Xiomara across the face, and the calm confidence she had shown when she pulled out her phone to play that hidden recording.
He thought about the dining room, and how she had held onto his arm for so long without even realizing it.
In those moments, he had felt a genuine warmth in his chest. It was a familiar feeling, dangerously close to the warmth he had felt three years ago while lying in the tall grass, wrapped in a brave stranger’s arms.
He had flown all the way back to the Silvermist Mountains specifically to clear his head. He needed to stand in the snow, remember the past, and force himself to sort through his messy feelings once and for all.
The wind howled loudly through the dark valley below, sending a spray of fine snow over the edge.
His mind drifted back to Iris. The mysterious woman who had saved his life, held him through the freezing cold, and then walked away without asking for a single thing in return.
He still loved her. Standing here in the cold, he was more certain of that than ever.
His feelings for her had not faded over the past three years. If anything, the distance and the mystery had only made those feelings grow deeper, rooting themselves permanently into his soul.
Then he pictured Veyra’s face again.
She was an incredible woman, no doubt about it. She was brave, ridiculously smart, quick on her feet, and fiercely independent.
But she was simply not the woman who held his heart.
Whatever spark he felt toward Veyra was just a fleeting distraction, a momentary lapse in judgment caused by a sudden burst of confusion. He was mistaking his gratitude and curiosity for something deeper, but he could not afford to play games with her or himself.
As far as he was concerned, her role in his life was set in stone.
Dorian turned his back on the steep drop, letting out a long, heavy breath that instantly turned into a thick cloud of mist in the freezing air.
The sky above the mountains was growing darker by the minute, and the quiet around him was absolute.
Veyra’s sharp smile and bright eyes flickered through his mind one last time, along with the fierce look on her face when she had stood by his side.
He felt a small pang of regret deep in his chest, a subtle flicker of sadness for the boundary he was about to draw between them.
Yet Dorian Thorne was a man of logic and absolute resolve. He knew exactly what had to be done to keep things clear.
Veyra could only ever be the mother of his child. They had a duty to the baby, and he would protect her and provide for her without hesitation. But there would be no romance, no false promises, and no future as lovers.
The only woman he truly loved, and the only woman he would ever give his heart to, was Iris.
Without looking back at the valley below, Dorian turned on his heel and walked back toward his helicopter.