I had never thought dying would be so painless. I thought death was a dark, ugly thing to be feared. I had always believed that. But as I lay bleeding on the cold stone floor of Haytham's quarters in Fort George, I wasn't scared. Knowing that the emotional pain of the tragedies I had faced would soon end gave me a serenity I had never known before. I was anxious for my life to come to a close. Then I could finally be with Abigail again.

It was of her I was thinking as the mortars exploded around me, causing the outside wall to come crashing down. I could smell the pungent odor of smoke mixed with the salty sea air of the Atlantic coast through the opening. I looked outside. The sky was dark, the stars twinkled brightly. The whistle of cannon fire sounded louder than ever. I wondered how close the ships littering the fort with shells were. I also wondered if the Aquila was among the vessels attacking the harbor. I was sure my husband's flagship was nearby. Just as I was sure Connor was on his way here. He was coming to kill his father.

I hoped he succeeded where I had failed.

Despite the dire situation I was in, that thought brought a smile to my face. It wasn't necessarily that I wanted Haytham dead. I did, but that wasn't what had

amused me. What was funny to me was that I thought I had failed in an attempt to kill my father-in-law. But to be completely honest, I had not botched an assassination attempt. What I had done was succeed at suicide.

I had known from the beginning that I would lose to Haytham. That was fine because I had wanted to lose. I wanted to die. I had for over a year now. Haytham had not murdered me. He had merely been the instrument I used to end my life. If I had the courage to kill myself, I would have found a different weapon, one designed for self-infliction. But I was a coward. I couldn't end my own life. I needed someone to do it for me. I had chosen Haytham because I knew he wouldn't falter.

Looking back on the short moments I had engaged in battle with the Templar made me certain Haytham had known my intentions. I think that was why he had ended it so quickly. He had never gone easy on me, never given me any glimmer of hope that I might best him. He performed as a seasoned warrior should. Exactly as I had expected him to.

The only thing Haytham had done that surprised me was apologize. Muttering that he was sorry as he lowered me to the floor after stabbing me had caught me completely off guard. The words confused me. As did the expression of sincerity on his face that accompanied the sentiment.

I had wanted to tell him that it was okay. He did not owe me an apology. But Haytham had left before I could say anything. He hadn't waited around to watch the life drain from my body. He had given me my privacy. Being alone was okay with me. That was the way I wanted it to end.

"Faith!"

The familiar voice that yelled my name filled me with a sense of dread I had hoped to avoid. Having Connor beside me as I passed was not what I wanted. I had tried to save my husband from watching me die by leaving without his knowledge.

Connor had known none of my plans. I made sure of it. He was too intent on his own business to notice what I was doing. A fact I had used to my advantage. I had come to New York on my own, leaving after him. He should not have known I was here. There was no way he could have known I was at Fort George. Unless...

Stupid, I thought, not sure if I was referring my own actions or those of my killer.

I had not counted on Haytham admitting to what he had done. Least of all to Connor.

Connor knelt beside me. The sorrow I saw on his face as he gently cradled my weak body in his arms broke my heart. Pain coursed through me, both physical and emotional. The physical aspect was owed to the hand Connor pressed firmly against the wound in my left side. I winced, thinking that this was more like the death I had expected.

"We need to go," Connor spoke insistently.

I tried to decline but found it difficult to speak. My voice did not seem to work, and I didn't have the strength to struggle as Connor lifted me off the ground. I wanted to protest. I wanted to argue with my husband and make him leave without me. I wanted to tell him to let me die so that he could live. But I wasn't able to.

An explosion shook the building, causing Connor to stumble. It hurt everywhere as we both hit the ground hard. I heard my husband curse in his native language. As he sat up, I noticed a fresh cut above his right eye. It was seeing the man I loved injured that gave me the will to fight as Connor attempted to lift me again.

"Stop struggling! We must leave now!"

"No!"

Connor paused at the hoarse scream that issued from my lips. I'm not even sure how he heard me over the retort of the artillery sounding all around us. Still, when his gaze met mine, I knew he understood. I could see it in his eyes that he knew what I wanted. I could also see him struggling internally with the choice to respect my wishes and the desire to act selfishly.

"Faith..."

"Go."

I'm not sure if I even spoke the word aloud, but I'm certain my mouth moved. Either way, Connor understood. He nodded.

My eyes closed.