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PROLOGUE

A BROKEN-HEARTED MAN, LIVING IN A WORLD FAR AWAY

I inhaled the smoke between my lips and the remnants of my wooden pipe turned to ash, my vision blurring.

I tried to avoid Demon’s Root the best I could, but some days the loss of her was too painful to bear without it.

The smoke acted as a buffer against the all-consuming thoughts of her. Dulling the ache of her memory for an hour or two.

While sober, the ghost of her was impossible to ignore; for she was everywhere.

I could find the color of her eyes in the green of the hills surrounding her childhood home.

The scent of her within her mother’s fields of flowers, or in freshly fallen snow; not even the change in seasons allowing me a reprieve.

And the worst was at night, when her side of the bed sat empty and cold; the constant reminder she was no longer there to hold.

Even after all these years, my body still ached from the absence of her soft skin pressed against mine.

I was in a frozen state of perpetual mourning. Every minute, of every day.

My heart had turned into a festering wound that refused to heal, yet continued to beat with the hope of seeing her again. For death was a fickle thing when it came to her, the finality of it missing.

Brynlynn.

I whispered her name to myself as I opened the vasculum on my nightstand and stuffed my pipe with more of the illegal root, resting my head back against the silk of her pillowcase. My lungs breathing deeply, the campfire incense lulling me to sleep.

In my dreams, I chased her through those fields of flowers, promising myself I’d see her again one day.

Even if waiting for her destroyed me completely.

CHAPTER ONE

BRYN

Iwas out of breath and had only reached the end of my driveway.

No matter how often I ran, it seemed my lungs would forever refuse to adapt to the strain against them. Never learning obedience through exercise.

I didn’t mind it, though; the persistent burning in my chest comforting me in an odd way.

The morning sun was sweltering as it beat against my face, already ninety degrees, and it wasn’t even noon.

I welcomed the feel of it on my skin, as it matched the heat in my lungs, and I wished I could absorb it through skin and muscle, carrying it within me.

Internal warmth would be the perfect antidote to chase away the nightmares I’d been having lately, finding me every time I closed my eyes to sleep.

One would think nightmares would be a normal thing for me, given my choice of career, but I had always made peace with my decisions—no matter how violent they could be. Peace with knowing I was protecting my country; doing things a common man wouldn’t dare to do.

I was a soldier. And a good one at that.

I used to sleep soundly.

I used to be proud of everything I had accomplished in my life.

I’d accepted violence was sometimes necessary for the innocent to live freely. My job crucial for those who couldn’t protect themselves.

But that had all changed after the incident.