His eyes widened as recognition dawned upon him, freezing him in place. The realization of who he was holding by the throat caused him to immediately release his grip, his rough, calloused hand retracting as though it had been scorched by a sudden flame.
Jessamyn gasped, her lungs greedily pulling in the cold, crisp air that she had been so desperately deprived of. She watched him with wide, unblinking eyes, her breath shallow and quick, still trying to comprehend the rapid shift in her circumstances.
For a moment, the forest around them seemed to hold its breath as well, the snow falling in a soft, almost reverent silence. The man's gaze lingered on Jessamyn's face, and she could see the turmoil brewing in his eyes—a mixture of shock, confusion, and something else she couldn't quite place.
His face, rugged and weathered by the harsh conditions of war, softened as he stepped back, giving her space.
