I saw it happen.
I saw the moment Trey’s body failed him. Felt his hand go slack in mine. Saw Chace’s face break as medics swarmed—everything moving too fast and not fast enough all at once.
I prayed.
I begged.
I promised God anything—everything—if He would just let Trey breathe again.
He didn’t answer.
The not knowing doesn’t spare me.
It tortures me.
It means Trey might be gone…
Or Gideon might be keeping him alive somewhere dark and hidden, just long enough to make sure I understand the price of loving him.
Either way, Gideon wins.
“Gideon?” I ask weakly, my voice trembling.
Johnathon doesn’t look at me.
“Nah,” he says flatly. “That rat has fucked off somewhere else dank. His followers, though. One of his wives was behind the wheel.”
He pauses.
“Crazy cunt.”
A deafening crack slams into the back of the SUV.
I scream as the impact shudders through the frame, metal howling in protest. Artemis barks wildly, panic sharp and frantic, while Klause snarls low and vicious beside her.
Gunfire.
I curl forward instinctively, covering my head with my bound wrists.
I was taught that mercy is holy. That justice belongs to God. That forgiveness is the highest calling of all.
But mercy didn’t reach Trey in time. Justice didn’t stop Gideon’s knife. And forgiveness? Forgiveness feels like another way of asking me to disappear.
If this is the world as God designed it, then He watched my husband bleed out and chose silence.
I don’t know what I believe anymore.
Only that mercy, justice, and forgiveness are luxuries reserved for people who haven’t had everything ripped from them while they begged heaven to intervene.
Another shot rings out—closer this time.
Glass explodes behind us. Shards rain down in a violent cascade, slicing across my arms and shoulders. I cry out as pain flares hot and sharp, blood blooming where glass kisses skin.
“Taking fire,” Johnathon snaps into the comm. “ETA on interceptors?”
A black SUV surges up alongside us—so close I can see the men inside. Faces hard. Eyes empty. Guns raised, aimed straight at my window.
I sob, helpless. Trapped.
