LOGINRomyBy the fourth day, the room felt smaller.The fog outside never lifted. It pressed against the windows from morning until night, turning the glass pale and dull. The corners of the bedroom faded into shadow long before sunset, and every hour that passed made the walls seem closer.I lay on my back, staring at the door.Twelve feet.I’d measured it so many times I no longer needed to look.Twelve feet from the bed to freedom.My thumb rubbed against the edge of the blanket, catching on a loose thread. The wool scratched my skin. Somewhere beneath the covers lingered Rowan’s scent—cedar smoke, clean soap, and something warmer that seemed impossible to escape.Because he was always here.Always.If he crossed the room, I knew it.If he shifted in the chair near the hearth, I knew it. If he stood by the window, I felt it before I heard it– the bond made sure of that.A plate landed on the cedar chest at the foot of my bed.“You need to eat something, Romy,” he said, his shoulder agai
RomyI woke slowly, keeping my eyes shut and my jaw locked tight.Something heavy lay across my legs, pinning me in place. One of my boots was still on, pressing painfully against my toes beneath the blanket.A warm thumb rested at the base of my neck, rough against my tangled hair whenever it moved.Rowan was behind me.His chest rose and fell against my back with every breath, the heat of his bare skin bleeding through the thin fabric between us. He smelled faintly of smoke and rain and whatever hell the Hawthorne ruins had dragged him through.I stayed perfectly still.I moved my fingers first, testing the mattress. Then I slowly dragged my hand toward my waist until I found the button of my trousers, still jammed through the hole with dried mud packed into the fabric.My jacket was gone. I was in a loose undershirt I didn’t recognize, the seam under one arm already coming apart.I kept my breathing even, then I tested the weight behind me again. He was Still asleep.Of course he wa
Rowan pov I was hallucinating.I had to be.Fear had wrapped itself so tightly around my chest that maybe my mind had finally broken.Because the last thing I remembered was dropping beside her in the mud.The last thing I remembered was holding her.I remembered dropping beside her. Remembered pulling her against me.Remembered begging her to wake up.I didn’t remember letting her go.I didn’t remember the darkness that followedBut when I looked up, Liam Mercer was ankle-deep in the rain with Romy in his arms.Her head rested against his shoulder. Red hair clung to the dark wool of his coat. Her arms were limp, fingers streaked with dirt. Mud dripped from her boots.He went completely silent. Terribly silent.“Liam.” My voice barely sounded human.The boy only adjusted his hold on her, lifting her higher.Rain had washed the dirt from his face. For a second, I saw the same boy I’d seen outside the villa. Young. Stubborn. Looking at her with that same awful certainty.As if he belie
Romy povThe ground under my cheek wasn’t tile.For one stupid second, my mind reached for the villa anyway–for the cold marble floors, the echoing halls, the polished prison I had learned to hate with every breath I took inside it.But this wasn’t marble.This time it was wet, broken, root-tangled earth pressed hard against the side of my face. Mud had found its way into my mouth. Something sharp scraped my lower lip when I tried to breathe. The air smelled of rot, rain, and old iron, thick enough to choke on.Above me, the remains of a stone arch leaned against the storm as if it had been trying not to fall for a hundred years and was finally tired. Mist crawled under it in pale strips, clinging to the mossy stones, sliding over my hands, my boots, my ruined clothes.I tried to lift my head, but the pain exploded in me.It came from my shoulder, then my chest, then everywhere at once. A slow, ugly burn spread under my skin, deep enough that it no longer felt like a wound. It felt l
Romy’s POVAt six o’clock that morning, the guards were changing shifts, and I’d been watching the four-minute gap between rotations at the east gate for two days.I left through it in the rain.The rain had started around five. My boots were already sinking two inches into the ground before I was through the perimeter By the time I cleared the tree line, water had soaked through to my shoulders. My chest ached with each breath, a dull, deep pull that had nothing to do with the cold. I kept walking anyway. If I stopped, I wasn’t going to make it the rest of the way. I had known for thirteen years what day this was. I’d marked it every year–in the Waxmans’ spare room with the door shut, in training facilities and airport lounges, in a hotel bathroom in Oslo with the shower running so no one outside would hear. I had never had a place worth visiting, and I had never been close enough. But now, I was close enough.The Hawthorne property sat forty minutes from the eastern boundary–dow
Rowan’s POVThe tomb was forty minutes from the estate by car and twenty more on foot through the pine forest that ran along the eastern ridge.I had been making this walk for thirteen years. Always alone. Always before anyone at the estate woke up I left at five in the morning while the sky was still fully dark, the kind of dark that sat heavy between the trees and made the mountain feel like it belonged to no one. The air had that particular early-winter bite to it, the sort that froze the inside of your nose and turned every breath into a small white cloud. Aaron knew where I was going. He had figured it out the first year and never asked about it again–which I was grateful for.The forest path was uneven, broken by tree roots pushing up through the frozen ground every few feet. My feet remembered the route well enough that I barely needed to look down. Thirteen years of the same walk had carved it into my muscle memory. Pine and damp earth filled the air around me. Above, the
Rowan PovThe chocolates were Zaric’s idea.Which meant he had anticipated this entire situation before I had.He appeared back at the study door barely five minutes after the others left, holding a small gold box in one hand with the same expression he wo
Romy PovI woke to pale winter light filtering through the curtains and an itch on the right side of my left shoulder blade so vicious it bordered psychological warfare.For one long second, I stared at the ceiling in silence, trying to determine whether this was how I finally died.I tried to move
Rowan PovShe was asleep before we hit the estate gates. She didn’t sleep peacefully, nothing about Romy was. Her head lolled against the headrest of the seat, her shirt hanging open, the pink lace of her undergarment still clearly visible beneath her throat. Her red hair was everywhere. Her scrat
Romy PovHe called for backup and a fleet of Humvees appeared. It made Mr proud: a dozen Humvees and guards all for little me. I had him stressed out. The Humvee was hot and I loathed it.I loathed the leather seats and the tinted windows and the way that Rowan had just unceremoniously picked me







