Annabelle gazed out at the landscape as she leaned against the balcony of Appledore. And as the sun set over the horizon, she finally felt like she could breathe again. She loved the countryside. It was quiet and so much more peaceful than the chaos of London.
Since meeting Lady Smallwood, her life was a constant rush of things to do. And as the sole heir of Charles Magnussen's vast empire, the pressure to perform was overwhelming.
Annabelle sighed as she gazed out over her estate. She had played the part, stayed in London for an entire year, and done all she could to prove she was nothing like her father. Even Lady Smallwood was surprised at how well she managed the role.
Everything in her life was just as it should be.
She glanced up at a familiar sound and watched the tight V-formation of geese that soared above her head. Was it so long ago when she wished she was one of those birds? She shook her head and sighed. Now that she had her freedom, she felt even more alone than ever before.
Annabelle gripped her shawl at her neck as the wind lifted her hair and made it swirl around her head. It had been over a year since the events at the little Irish cottage. Over a year since she had escaped the coma. Over a year since Moriarty had been released from Sherrinford prison.
She rested her scarred hand on the balcony rail. Why hadn't Moriarty come to get her? Not a phone call, not a text, not even a scribbled letter from him. Nothing.
Her mouth set in a frown. She had to stop caring. Moriarty had moved on, and she needed to do the same.
"You're still so perfect, aren't you?"
A sudden coldness hit her to the core, and as she swung around, Annabelle's heart hammered in her chest. "Who's there?" she called, but it was a question she already knew the answer to as her worst nightmare sauntered out of the shadows.
"I bet you never expected to see me again," Soo-Ling said, bitterness straining her voice as she trained her gun on Annabelle. "That's your problem, little princess. Unlike me, you don't plan ahead."
Annabelle tried to stop herself from shaking. "Get the hell out of my house, you bitch."
Soo-Ling paused for a moment, then a smile creased her face as she came closer. "Is it really you in there, little princess? You've gotten plucky with your new fortune. Or are you just stupid? It's not a good idea to piss off someone who hates you."
Soo-Ling walked up to Annabelle and smoothed the sides of her gun over Annabelle's cheeks. "I'm going to shoot your pretty face so he'll have to cremate you. No one will want to see your open casket, especially not him."
Annabelle didn't look away. "What happened to your ponytail, Soo-Ling?"
The former assassin ran a hand over her brush-cut hair, and growling, she jammed the end of the gun into Annabelle's ribs.
"He's looking for me," Soo-Ling said. "He'll find me eventually. But this time, I'm going to smash his little trinket before he does." Soo-Ling stared into Annabelle's eyes. "I hate him, but I despise you more."
Soo-Ling grasped a length of Annabelle's hair and rubbed it between her fingers. "You don't deserve this." She motioned her head. "You don't deserve any of it. I was supposed to be his favorite, not some ugly English crumpet. I'll never understand what he sees in you, but since you're the only one he wants..."
Annabelle laughed.
"What's so funny?" Soo-Ling said, her brow furrowing.
"You are. I haven't seen James in over a year. Obviously, he doesn't want me."
"Is that what you think?" Soo-Ling paused, her mouth pursing. "Whatever, it won't matter when you're dead."
Annabelle tried not to think about Soo-Ling's gun pressing harder into her ribs. She had to remain calm. Her father would have stayed that way. If she could just get Soo-Ling to go into the vault ahead of her, she might be able to lock her in until she was able to call the authorities.
"You remember Nicholas Byron, don't you, Soo-Ling?" Annabelle asked. "He really liked you. I can't believe how much." Annabelle watched Soo-Ling's face change. She was curious—perfect. "I was so jealous of you. Nicholas said he planned to find you after he finished with me."
Soo-Ling lowered the gun. "He did?"
"Yes. He said he was going to sell the violin and join you. The Stradivarius is worth what, a few million pounds?"
Soo-Ling's eyes rolled over Annabelle's face. "Where's the violin?"
"Why would I have the violin?"
"You played it last week."
Annabelle looked at her curiously. "You heard about the concert?"
"Heard? I was there, but I couldn't get a clean shot. He had the whole place..." Soo-Ling's head snapped to the side, and frowning, she tilted her head to listen.
Annabelle watched as Soo-Ling's face turned ashen. What was wrong with her?
"Where's the violin? I want it!" Soo-Ling grabbed the shawl at Annabelle's neck and yanked her closer. "Give it to me now!"
"It's in the vault," Annabelle said. "Where else would I keep it?"
Soo-Ling grabbed Annabelle's shoulder and pushed her towards the door leading into the mansion. "Get moving. Take me there."
The jarring blast of a gun made Annabelle stiffen as she covered her ears. Whirling around, she saw Soo-Ling drop to her knees as she clutched her bloody hand to her chest. Soo-Ling moaned, her eyes filling with horror as she stared over Annabelle's shoulder.
Annabelle slowly turned, and her gaze locked onto Moriarty's. Beside him, Sebastian kept his rifle fixed on Soo-Ling.
Annabelle's entire body shook as she gripped the shawl at her neck. It was all she could do to stay on her feet as Moriarty walked towards her.
"Hello, Annabelle," he said. "I see you have a guest. I'm sorry the snake slipped by us. That won't happen again."
Annabelle fought back the avalanche of emotion ready to spill from her eyes. She couldn't move, couldn't speak as her eyes riveted on the man who lingered in her dreams.
Moriarty came closer to her, his gaze softening as it travelled over Annabelle's face. He smiled as he gently moved her hair with his hand and leaning in, his warm breath fanned across her ear.
"I'm sorry I wasn't here earlier, my darlin'," Moriarty whispered. "I'm so sorry."
But Annabelle turned her face quickly away from his, and even in the dimming light, he could see she was shaking.
Moriarty's jaw tensed at her reaction, but when he turned to look at the snake, fury quickly transformed his face. Soo-Ling's moans became wails as Moriarty casually picked up her gun from the ground and levelled it on her head.
"Ahhh, the snake has a backbone once again." Moriarty's mouth twisted into a mocking smile. "Unfortunately, her brain is the size of a pea to come after what's mine," he snarled.
"Mercy," Soo-Ling pleaded as she continued to hold her bloodied hand to her chest and bowed down low in front of him. "Kill me."
Moriarty's nostrils flared. "Stand up!"
Annabelle slowly backed away from the two until she was nearly at the door. But Sebastian was there in three strides, blocking her from escaping into the house.
Annabelle implored Sebastian with her eyes, and he answered by shaking his blonde head, his mouth firmly set. He wasn't moving. She gripped the shawl at her neck and slowly turned to see Soo-Ling shakily get to her feet.
"Look at me, snake," Moriarty demanded, his voice dripping with warning.
Soo-Ling raised her eyes, and before she could plead another word, Moriarty lowered the gun and shot out both her kneecaps. She screamed in agony and collapsed to the concrete floor.
"No more running," Moriarty said, his lips hardening into tight lines. "That's for Megan and Sam." His face contorted in anger. "And this is for..."
"No!" Annabelle was there in an instant, gripping Moriarty's gun arm. "Please don't do it, James," she begged. "No more killing. She asked for mercy!"
Moriarty glanced down at Annabelle. The wind had picked up, making her long, mahogany hair dance around him as the delicate scent of lilacs warmed his senses. A smile flickered across his lips... until Soo-Ling moaned. The snake yanked him back to the real reason he had revealed himself to Annabelle. But this time, he wouldn't let anyone stop him from doing what he should have done long ago.
Moriarty deftly shifted the gun to his other hand, and pressing Annabelle firmly against his chest, he fired. And the bullet found its mark. Soo-Ling dropped to the ground, her forehead draining her life's blood.
The echo from the gunshot reverberated in Annabelle's ears. With a sob, she pushed out of Moriarty's arms and staggered towards Sebastian. At Moriarty's nod, the blonde giant moved out of the way so Annabelle could flee into the sanctuary of the mansion.
Moriarty stared at Sebastian, his teeth clenched. "Take the body and put it in the trunk, Seb. We'll get it away from the estate and burn it somewhere."
Sebastian nodded and pulled out a small packet from his jacket. He unravelled the thinly compressed body bag and immediately went to work.
Moriarty pushed a hand through his hair and went into the house. He looked around until he saw Annabelle, and when he approached the couch, his throat tightened. There she sat, back straight, her hand gripping her shawl at her neck, her eyes staring steadily into the fire.
He came around the couch and sat down beside her. With his hands on his knees, Moriarty let out a long breath as he gazed at the flame.
"You're a monster," Annabelle whispered.
He turned his head. "I did what I had to do, kitten. The snake has been stalking you for months." His eyes trailed over Annabelle's profile, his voice low and pained. "I'm sorry you had to see her die like that."
Annabelle looked at him. "You're sorry? I thought that's what you enjoyed most, having people watch your sadistic victories."
Moriarty looked at her incredulously. "I saved your life—more than once."
"She asked you for mercy, James. But the cat doesn't just kill the mouse; he tortures her first, right?" Annabelle's throat constricted. "You couldn't help yourself. You'll never change."
The vein in Moriarty's jaw ticked, his eyes reflecting the fire that spat and flickered in the hearth. "I gave her mercy. That's not how I torture. Not even close."
Annabelle flinched as she bit down on her lower lip, and he immediately regretted his words.
Moriarty turned his body towards her. "Why did you tell them you killed Byron?" His eyes searched her face. It was the question riddling his mind from the moment he left Sherrinford.
Annabelle lifted her hands and massaged her temples. "Because I killed him. And I wasn't going to let you take the fall for me."
"Why not?" Moriarty reached out and grabbed Annabelle's upper arms, pulling her closer. "They wanted me, and they had me," he hissed into her face.
Annabelle's eyes became glassy. "And I would do it again," she whispered, her chin lifting higher as she met his eyes.
Moriarty's jaw tensed. "Why?"
Annabelle fought back the tears. She could feel Moriarty's body shaking as his fingers gripped her arms. How could she tell him the truth?
When she didn't answer, Moriarty's brown eyes blazed. "I did it to protect you, Annabelle!"
"I don't need your protection," she snapped back, her voice rising. "I took care of myself in case you haven't noticed. I've done that for over a year."
He scoffed. "Really?"
"Yes... I helped MI6 find those dead women. The Byrons are behind bars. I handled it without you."
Moriarty let go of her arms. "And you gave them Magnussen's vault too."
Annabelle swallowed. His eyes were peering into her as if he could see into her soul. "I took information out before I handed it over."
"Oh, now we're getting somewhere. And pray tell, what did you take out of daddy's sacred vault, Annabelle?" Moriarty lips twisted. "Intel on me, perhaps, hmm?"
Annabelle leaned away from the alarming fire in his eyes. "There was a folder... or two."
"And what did you do with these folders?"
"I threw them in the fire."
Moriarty studied her, his face unreadable. "Alright, next question... did you read what was inside the folders, Annabelle? It must have been choke-full of delicious nuggets about me."
"No, no, I didn't."
Moriarty was stone-faced. "Come on, darlin', you can tell me." He placed his arm on the back of the couch and leaned in to whisper in her ear. "Tell me the truth, and I'll be out of your life forever."
He'd be out of her life forever? Annabelle blinked and shook her head. His closeness was disturbing. She could feel her own heartbeat fluttering as she raised her hand and covered her throat. "The truth is I didn't read the folder before I destroyed it."
Moriarty looked into her eyes and nodded. "I believe you..."
"Because my father made me memorize it before he died."
Moriarty's eyes scanned her face. "I heard you didn't remember anything after the head injury. And yet, you still play Bach's Violin Concerto flawlessly." His expression hardened. "Are you planning on blackmailing me, Annabelle?"
Her mouth fell open, and her chin began to tremble. But when tears started trickling down Annabelle's cheeks, she angrily wiped them away. No more tears!
Moriarty watched her while he swallowed down the emotion finding its way into his throat. He needed to hear it from her lips, needed to hear his many secrets were safe with her. He refused to be blackmailed a second time.
Annabelle closed her eyes. "After everything, how can you still think I'd do that to you? I'm not my father, James. How many times do I have to tell you—tell everyone that? Am I going to pay for my father's sins for the rest of my life?"
Moriarty took a deep, steadying breath and reached out to take Annabelle's hand in his. He could see her stiffen, but he continued running his thumb over the scars that crisscrossed over her tender skin. Up and down, his thumb stroked over her hand, sending shivers up Annabelle's arm. And when she tried to pull her hand away, he wouldn't let go.
"Does it hurt to play, darlin'?" he asked softly.
"Yes, every time." Annabelle turned her head to stare at the fire. "You knew I played Bach's Concerto. So you were at the concert hall, and you still didn't bother coming to see me." She shook her head slowly. "It's always going to be a game for you, isn't it? You disappeared for over a year. I thought you went back to Megan's bread."
Moriarty blinked, and a low chuckle erupted from his chest. The sound brought a spark into Annabelle's eyes. She turned back to glare at him. "I'm glad I amuse you."
Moriarty laughed even harder and drew her into his arms. Despite Annabelle's struggle, he kept his arms locked around her body, hugging her tightly against him. When she finally stopped struggling, he plunged his face into the softness of her hair and inhaled the intoxicating scent of lilacs. "I've missed you, kitten. How has Lady Smallwood been treating you? You're quite the buzz around town."
Annabelle raised her face so quickly, she knocked his chin with her head.
Moriarty groaned as he rubbed his jaw. "You've got a hard head, Watson."
Her eyes lifted to meet his. "How did you know about Lady Smallwood?"
Moriarty's lips twitched.
Annabelle's eyes widened as it suddenly dawned on her that a spontaneous phone call with Lady Smallwood was not so spontaneous after all. How could she have been so stupid?
"You arranged everything with Lady Smallwood. You had her contact me, didn't you, James?" Her forehead furrowed.
Moriarty glanced up as Sebastian carried the body bag across the room and towards the back door. He turned back to see Annabelle staring at him intently, waiting for his answer.
"I met with her in London after I was released from Sherrinford. I encouraged her to get to know you. You needed help, Annabelle. You had a hurricane of hell to deal with."
Annabelle shook her head. "You told me you would never let me go. Remember?"
"I didn't let you go. I've been watching out for you. I've never stopped."
"That's not the same thing," she said, frustration ringing in her voice. She turned her body away from him to stare into the fire again. "So your job's over now. I formally release you from your obligations, James."
Moriarty tilted his head. "That was an iron-clad contract with your father, darlin', sealed in blood. You should know. You took the contract out of the vault."
He reached over and brushed a soft wave of hair out of her eyes, his gaze trailing over her profile. "And I formally refuse," he said quietly. "A deal's a deal. No one breaks a contract with me and lives."
"It's been over a year, and you never once tried contacting me," she said, her voice cracking.
Moriarty turned Annabelle's chin so she was looking at him. "The snake got away from me." He didn't add that he was thinking about Annabelle at the time. "And if I revealed myself to you, it would've been harder to catch her."
"Oh, so I was your bait then. That's brilliant."
Moriarty's mouth frowned. "Never. You still don't understand, do you?"
Annabelle pulled her chin from his hand and stood. She walked to the fireplace and crossed her arms over her chest, her eyes glassy. "No, I don't. I'm not a mind reader, James. Just... just leave me alone."
Moriarty grimaced, and scrubbing a hand over his face, he stood and scanned the room. His eyes landed on a little notebook and pencil on the side table. He walked over to it, took the book in his hand, and flipped through the pages, his eyes rolling over the musical notes that took up various spots along carefully drawn lines.
"So, you're composing now." He smiled thoughtfully. "You're finally finding your music, Annabelle."
She glanced up at him. "I'm trying, but it sounds awful. The melody... I-I just can't hear it."
Moriarty's brows drew together as he walked to the corner of the room and retrieved the violin case from where he had left it when he and Sebastian had first come in. A smile hovered on his lips as he placed it on the couch. "I gave the violin to you, Annabelle, not Sherlock."
Annabelle didn't move except to hug herself. Why was everything so complicated with him? He was a murderer, a criminal. How could she possibly want a man who was set on killing people?
Moriarty kept his eyes fastened on Annabelle. With her back to the hearth, the firelight made her skin glow and her hair resonate with a life of its own. His breath caught in his throat. She was more beautiful now than ever before.
He gritted his teeth. He wanted to reach for Annabelle, wanted to pull her into his arms and hold her close. But he couldn't... not yet. He knew what he had to do. It was the hardest thing he had ever done in his life, but he needed to let his bird go.
Moriarty went to a blank page of Annabelle's notebook and scrawled down some numbers. And when he slowly ripped out the page, the sound made Annabelle's forehead crease. Moriarty came closer and held up the page for her to see.
"Look carefully, little bird. These are the coordinates to my house in Ireland. That's where I'll be." He swallowed down the ache in his throat. "That's where I'll be if you need me."
Annabelle met his eyes before dropping her gaze to the paper in his hand. But before she could say a word, Moriarty scrunched the page up in his fist and tossed it into the hearth.
She raised her eyes and saw a soft smile had returned to Moriarty's lips. "Find your music, Annabelle. It's there inside you. Goodbye, my darlin'."
Annabelle watched Moriarty stride out the back door, but she didn't move to stop him. She didn't say any of the many things she had practiced if he should ever come back into her life.
And when she heard the door close, Annabelle sank down on the couch and watched a spark from the fire catch and consume the crumpled paper.
Her shoulders slumped. How could she let Moriarty walk out of her life like that? She pulled her legs up on the couch and listened to the crackling flame. It was loud... but no louder than the sound of her heart breaking.
What had she done?
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Author note:
Wow, that was a long chapter! I know what you're thinking, but don't worry. There's more to come for Annabelle and Moriarty... the final few chapters coming soon. The big finale! I'm working on them as I write this.
Thank you for reading. And if you like the story, can you give me a star? ⭐️
Stay well and safe, my friends.
Merri xx