Ivan walks me from the prison in morbid silence as he walked to a funeral rather than a wedding. Then again, it might as well be. Nothing about this moment is right. Nothing is good. I wish Jaxon walked beside me rather than my brother because then I could at least ask about Eli. How long has his army waited outside the gates? How much longer before they attack? Where will they put me when that happens?

  But instead, I get the crunch of gravel beneath our shoes and the increasingly cold air between us. I chance a glance and see nothing but a face of emotionless, cold steel, as strong as the chains around my wrists. I swallow back tears. I miss the days before this darkness settled into the space between us. Before this world of stone destroyed us. We used to be able to smile. Laugh.

  To my surprise, rather than turning for the church, we take a left, toward the stables. It isn’t until we step through the stable doors that I see what this really is. Not a wedding at all, but a show. Jaxon stands beside a horse, dressed to the nines. He looks good in a suit. I wonder what Eli would look like in one. Those broad shoulders would be splendid, but still, I think I prefer Eli without anything at all.

  I catch Jaxon staring at me and annoyance rears up in my mind. So I swing my head his way with a sultry look, holding the chains up as I do. “Didn’t know you preferred ‘em cuffed, Jaxon.”

  His eyes go wide, his body stiffening. I have to keep from snickering. Lately, it’s been so easy to mess with him. I can see why everyone likes Jaxon. Hard to offend, the man forgives quickly enough and tends to accept you as you are without trying to change you. In a different world—a different life—maybe things could have turned out different between us.

  “Enough, we don’t have much time,” Ivan says from behind, mounting his horse.

  A guard comes up and wraps a long, white silk cloth around my wrists, disguising the cuffs while another offers me a bouquet of flowers. I glare at it. In the next moment, I get hauled into the saddle in front of Jaxon. The man is as stiff as a board behind me.

  Ivan stops in front of us and looks me square in the eyes. “Be convincing and I’ll see what I can do for Thomas.”

  Anger flares to life inside me as he turns to leave.

  Did he just—

  The guard still holds the bouquet up my way, practically begging for me to relieve him of it. I feel my muscles tighten and I resist snatching the wretched thing and flinging it at Ivan’s head. But then he’s gone, past the stable doors and out of sight. So I grab the blooms in my fists, crushing the stems as if they were the ones who just bribed me with my friend’s well-being and not my own brother.

  Outside, I soon discover an army waiting by the city gates. Ivan’s army. Now I see what this is all about. I am to be paraded around like some kind of prize to be won. A damsel to be defended. Protected. Fought for.

  Good job, Ivan.

  What a way to control the narrative. The sarcastic thought tastes bitter and I grind my teeth into it. Painting a picture with him as the hero. As if these chains around my wrists were truly ribbons rather than hardened steel. And I, the happy wife to the man at my back.

  I keep my eyes ahead, avoiding the stares all around. Ivan is taking a risk. I could scream right now. Take a knife to the picture he’s painting and cut it to shreds. But I clamp my mouth shut, lips twisting with disgust. Who knows what Ivan would do to Thomas. I can’t risk his life and besides, all it would accomplish is a gag in my mouth and a speedy trip back to the prison cell. It wouldn’t stop anything. The war would go on.

  We follow Ivan as he marches around on his horse, giving a speech that puffs the chest of every man here. His battle-clad armor gleams in the morning sun. Armor that’s soon to be wet, slick, and red. How many hearts standing here will no longer beat by the day’s end? How many lives needlessly taken? All because of his pride. And fear.

  To our left, on the city wall where Ivan showed me Eli’s army, I hear a shout, and then something heavy falls from the top. I glimpse a lifeless body with an arrow buried deep in his head before Jaxon turns the horse around.

  Ivan kicks his mount into action. “Get her out of here!”

  I’m swept away as Ivan commands men to the left and right. A bone-chilling battle cry comes from behind the gate. It thunders and shakes.

  Eli.

  What are you doing?

  Jaxon rides to the other side of the city stopping before a red brick house with stairs leading to a pair of white double doors. It looks like a regular dream home, complete with a white picket fence and everything. I’m dragged up the steps and through the doors. Inside, it’s spacious but not grand, with warm, inviting shades of creme and starburst orange accented with deep chocolate. But before I can register much more, the two guards with us rush me through the entrance and down the hall into a bedroom. I catch several locks on the outside of the door as we pass.

  So this is my new prison cell.

  For a prison, it is beautiful. A queen-size canopy bed sits along the back of the room with silk draped over top. A large fur rug lies at the base and a polished wooden dresser and mirror rest on one side with a fireplace and reading chair beside it. But as the guards remove my cuffs, my eyes catch the window across the bed. Thick, metal bars cover the span of it. With my hands free, I start towards it.

  “It’s locked,” Jaxon says.

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  I stop and turn. Jaxon stands in the doorway, his dress suit replaced with leather armor as he tightens the straps along his left forearm.

  “This is where Ivan is going to keep me, then.”

  “Yes.”

  I step toward him. “I know you don’t agree with this.”

  He remains silent.

  I press my lips together to keep frustration from showing. “You once told me you believed people could change. Eli has changed. Please, Jaxon. If not for me, then do it for Ivan—for every man in these city walls. Let me put an end to this war.”

  By now, I know Jaxon well enough to see past his austerity. I can see the battle raging. He hears me. His chest moves quickly as his breathing picks up, every fiber of every muscle strung tight.

  “You’re a good man. You care about these people. Help me keep everyone safe.” I touch his forearm. “Please.”

  His eyes flicker to the open door and he pulls away, walking to it. He’s going to leave me. Join the battle, locking me away. The thought brings frustration and fear in equal measure.

  But instead of stepping out, he pushes the door shut, cutting off the guards outside, leaving us alone in the room. My heart pauses. He goes over to the window and sweeps the curtain aside, taking a key in hand and unlocking it. As he pushes it open, I catch myself staring at him in utter disbelief.

  “You don’t have long.”

  My mouth snaps shut with his words and I rush over, climbing through the window.

  He catches my shoulder. “Take care of yourself, Natasha.”

  I pause, it’s the first time I’ve heard my name on his lips. It sounds good. I stare for a moment at the look on his face. I think I finally made a friend out of him.

  “When do I not?” His exasperated sigh brings a smile to my lips. I speak the next words fondly. “I’ll never forget this, Jaxon. Thank you.”

  And with that, I’m out. Free. Free to find Eli.

  ~~~

  I shove through the window and hit the grassy earth below in a crouch.

  Boom!

  I suck in a breath and look up. An explosion. Even from across the city, it rattles my bones and sends shockwaves of adrenaline flooding my veins. As if the sky itself tore open to rain down hellfire. But there’s not a cloud in sight.

  My feet fly over the abandoned cobblestone streets as my stark white dress whips my ankles with every step. It may scream for unwanted attention, but no one hears. No one’s here. They’re at the gates.

  Boom!

  I stagger at the sound. This one is closer—still coming from the direction of the battle. I’m closer now. I kick my heels harder as I run.

  Eli. I must get to Eli.

  As I approach the center of town I hear it—the fighting. Gunshots and the clash of metal. Shouts and screams. Blood and death. I slow as I approach the battle. New Haven men combat a horde of raiders. Buildings are ablaze with yellow flame. Smoke billows into the sky.

  From several blocks away, I search for one person and one person only. Another building explodes near the fighting, the force knocking men to the ground. Raiders descend upon the fallen like locusts and I feel my heart thud to a stop as the barely conscious men get stabbed through over and over.

  I reach the town square and pause, gasping for breath. I’m not sure what makes me look. Maybe it’s the memory of this place and what happened here. What I did here—to prevent what’s happening now. But I see the spot where Eli’s executioner fell and then the man who followed.

  Jake and Nicolas.

  I see their bodies in my mind. Only now, so many more lie motionless on the ground in their stead. I remember crowded shops selling wares as men went about their business. Talking. Laughing. Greedy fire now eats up those shops. Bared teeth and desperate rage replaces easy smiles. A carpet of liquid red covers cobblestone streets.

  In the midst of it all, I look up—up to the bell tower. Ivan stands at the top, a sniper in hand. His sights are trained on something—someone—down below. I follow the aim of his gun.

  Eli.

  Lost in a world of blood and death, Eli tears down every living soul within reach. Raiders avoid his metal as men go down left and right. This is his territory, this place of battle and broken bone. No one stands a chance. No one, except maybe my brother with a sniper.

  I scream Eli’s name, but he cannot hear me. He is trapped in another world, out of my reach. But not out of Ivan’s. I know Eli will die. Ivan is too good a shot to miss. And I’ve no weapon to stop him.

  So I run.

  Right toward the wall of fighting men. There is no way through—no clear path. But I still pick up the pace, pumping my legs faster with every step.

  Unlikely things happen. Some call it a miracle. Others chalk it up to mere chance. Perhaps it’s a natural thing. The same kind of thing that made space for gravity or love can make space for the exceptions too.

  As my speeding form reaches the battle, something unlikely happens. The space before me opens up. Like the parting of a sea, men somehow shift in their fighting, making space ahead, or falling to the wayside. All around is slashing and shooting and the falling of bodies, never to rise again.

  But I am invisible. I leap over unmoving forms, unhindered as I streak through the carnage like a wisp on the wind, my dress fluttering behind like a ghost.

  The momentum of my body should be enough to move Eli out of Ivan’s sights. I quicken my pace, my feet pounding the earth, straining my muscles and bruising my heels with every forceful step.

  This is my purpose—why I was made—to save Eli. I will reach him in time.

  The last few men shift and I see him. A whirlwind of black and red. Blood flies from the metal of his swords as they tear into one man after another. Cutting and ripping with an inhuman kind of precision.

  I fling myself at him. My body collides with Eli’s. He stumbling sideways even as I hear a gunshot in the distance.

  Eli whips around, eyes wide.

  I made it.

  I’m here now, with him. Relief sweeps through me as my fingers grasp the leather of his breastplate. We can stop all this fighting. End this death. Go back to how things once were. Go back to that beach and the warm sand. I’ll curl up in his arms and he’ll trace circles along my arm.

  Something is wrong. I can’t really feel my legs. They’re not numb—it’s more like they never existed. Like a void now stands where my chest and everything below used to be.

  I swallow the taste of copper. Something is very wrong.