I’d thought I was strong. I’d thought I could handle anything. But the idea of a world without Charlie Dane ripped something open in me I didn’t know I had. Because he’d become my gravity. My compass. My reason.
And if he was gone ...
God, please don’t let him be gone.
The air was still. Heavy. And something cold touched my forehead.
A cloth. Someone was dabbing my skin with a damp towel. My lashes fluttered. I tried to lift my hand, but it felt too heavy. My throat burned.
“I thought I lost you,” a voice said.
Not Charlie.
Marshall.
I blinked hard, forcing the fog away, and sat up too fast. The room spun. My body lurched sideways, caught only by the strong grip of the man beside me.
I shoved his hand away.
“You,” I rasped. My voice was shredded. “What did you do?”
He didn’t flinch. Just sat beside me in slacks and a button-down, sleeves rolled, the picture of calculated concern.
“This was the only way, Sloane. The Danes would never have let you go willingly.”
I looked down at my body—damp leggings, scratches on my wrists, a bruise blooming near my collarbone.
“Where am I?” My voice broke. “Where’s Charlie?”
Marshall’s mouth twitched. “He fought hard. You should’ve seen it. Almost admirable. But it wasn’t enough.”
My blood turned to ice.
“No,” I whispered. “No.”
He leaned in, elbows on his knees, voice soft like a funeral hymn. “He’s dead, sweetheart.”
Something inside me cracked. I think it was my soul.
“No,” I said again, louder this time. “No, he’s not. You’re lying. You’re always lying.”
“You think I wanted this?” he asked, standing. “You think I planned to take you like this? I gave you a hundred chances, Sloane. A hundred ways to do this clean. You made your choice. And now I’ve made mine.”
I tried to stand. The room tilted sideways. I caught the arm of the sofa.
“You kidnapped me,” I spat. “You drugged me. You’re the goddamn villain in this story.”
He stepped closer. “I saved you. From yourself. From them. From dying in a war you had no business fighting.”
I shook my head, the rage rising fast now. “You don’t get to decide what I fight for.”
He cupped my face like he had a right. “I do now.”
I jerked back. “There’s no way in hell I’m marrying you.”
His expression didn’t change. Not much. Just a flicker of steel behind the softness. “You don’t have a choice anymore.”
My hands curled into fists. “Charlie’s not dead. I’d feel it. I’d know.”
