Prologue
The pain was excruciating—sharp, intense, and all-consuming. The kind of pain that made her want to give up, to follow the peaceful, white glow people see while dying. She could see the warm light clearly now and it gave her comfort; her mind reached out toward it, welcomed it.
“I won’t let you die!” a woman bellowed. “Stay with me!”
She couldn’t place the disembodied voice, yet it brought back that agonizing pain with it regardless. Every time the voice spoke, the peaceful glow retreated a little further and the dark torment moved closer.
“Do you hear me? Stay with me, damn it. Fight!”
She didn’t want to fight; she wanted to sleep. She wanted the horrific chaos inside and around her to stop.
No more screaming. No more dead bodies.
“Help!” the voice shouted. “Gaia is down! Gaia was hit!”
Gaia? Who or what was Gaia?
The voice retreated with a final scream and suddenly rough hands were all over her injured body. The hands poked and prodded, forcing a small whimper from her lips that didn’t match up to the horrific anguish the touching made her feel.
“She’s losing too much blood,” a man announced.
“I want her alive!” another man ordered.
Hands touched her head; the pain shattered her. She managed to drag in a final gulp of air before succumbing to unconsciousness.
Chapter One
Six Months Later
“How are you feeling, dear?”
“The same.”
“You still remember nothing?”
“Nothing you don’t already know about.”
A gentle hand atop hers. “I know this is frustrating for you, Gaia. Hopefully, given time, your memories will return.”
“We both know that’s unlikely.”
A soft sigh. “I’m sorry.”
Gaia Evans absently stared at her reflection in the hospital mirror. A face she didn’t recognize, though clearly her own, lifelessly stared back through vacant hazel eyes. Her hair, a tawny brown color with streaks of gold, had grown back long and curly despite the gunshot wound at her temple. Her skin, sun-kissed and light caramel, was nearly flawless—only the smallest scar at the bullet’s entry point remained. She supposed she would be considered a beautiful woman by the societal standards she could recall, but she hated looking at herself. Every glance was just another reminder of the cold, hard truth: she had no idea who she was anymore.
“At any rate, this is a big day for you! You’re going to be reunited with your husband.”
Gaia sighed. “Sheila—”
“I know,” the nurse gently responded. “You don’t remember him either. Have you considered, though, that seeing him might spark your memory?”
“And what if it doesn’t? What if his face is as foreign to me as my own?”
“Hopefully you met him before five years ago,” Sheila said thoughtfully. “You have a pretty good recall of events prior to five years ago.”
Her amnesia wasn’t exactly contained within the neatly packaged cut-off date the nurse made it sound like, but she ignored that. “A vague memory of pop culture, odd jobs I’ve worked, and other things that don’t really matter, but that’s it. I’ve regained some of my treasured personal memories, but they definitely don’t involve marrying anyone—period.”
“That doesn’t mean you weren’t dating him.”
