Why is she running?Something must’ve spooked her.
“Carl,” I gasp.“If he gets anywhere near her—”
“We won’t lose her.”His voice cracks.“You hear me?We’re not—”
I disconnect as the pier comes into view.Wood planks, rocking boats, rigging clattering like bones… I scan the throngs of people as the harbor clangs in my ears.
“Dove!”I yell into the crowd and the air and the universe like she might hear me through sheer force.“Dove!”
Then I see it.
A flash of blue a few docks down.Just a glimmer, just enough to hook my spine and yank.
“Dove!”I tear toward it, running faster than I ever have in my life.Faster than fear.Faster than thought.Faster than anything Jag Rath ever planned for.
My boots strike the planks, lungs shredding and vision tunneling as I scream her name.
“Dove!Stop!”As I close the distance, a speedboat slides in beside her, smooth and wrong, entirely out of place.
She keeps her back to me, and my panic goes feral.
“Dove!”I roar again.“Look at me!”
She doesn’t.
What the hell is her problem?
The crowd shifts, giving me a quick glimpse of her feet.She switched her skates for sneakers.Plain white sneakers I’ve never seen before.And the flannel shirt draped over her?It hangs to her knees, swallowing her frame.
My stomach free-falls.
All of this feels wrong.
The boat nudges the dock, and she jumps without hesitation, landing on the seat beside a man I’ve never seen in my life.Nondescript.Forgettable.Built to disappear.
Who the fuck is that?
He cranks the throttle.
“No!Nooooo!”I hit the end of the dock as the boat surges forward, water exploding behind it.
I scream until my throat bleeds, and my voice fractures.
The wind whips her hard as they take off, and her blue hair lifts.Then it peels away, sails clean off her head, and spirals into the harbor.
A wig.
It hits the water and spreads, bright and false against the dark chop.
My heart stops as she turns to watch it sink.Then her eyes lift and find me.
Not Dove’s eyes.
Similar features.Similar coloring.Same height and build, maybe.But wrong in every place that matters.Her hair is brown, and her gaze is empty of recognition, empty of anything at all.
Not Dove.
A decoy.
