Prologue

PROLOGUE

If I stared into his eyes, I could forget about where we were.

I could forget about the freezing, brutal wind. I could forget about the terrifying nothingness that began less than a foot away.

I could forget about what they were going to do to us.

I stared up into eyes that were blue like the Texas sky, too honest, too good to belong here. He belonged in America, not in this vicious, backstabbing place I’d brought him to.

My hip was pressed against the chill metal of the safety rail, all that stood between us and the drop. It was so dark, I couldn’t see the water as it roared over the dam. But I could feel the spray as it rose and soaked us, plastering the dress to my body, soaking the fabric of his uniform. And I could hear it: a sound like constant thunder, so loud that I could only make out Garrett’s voice because our faces were inches apart.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

I shook my head viciously. This wasn’t his fault. None of this was. He’d done so much, protected me like no one else could. But they’d beaten us. I knew I was meant to be brave, facing death. That’s the royal way: noble and courageous to the end. But all I felt was sickening fear. And regret, regret that we hadn’t had more time together, that so much had kept me from this amazing man for so long. This couldn’t be the end.

I pressed myself against him and he locked his arms around me. The wind dropped away as that huge, muscled body sheltered me and I closed my eyes and pressed my cheek into his chest. “Please tell me you have a plan,” I said, my voice cracking.

I felt him shake his head. His chin pressed against the top of my head and his arms tightened around me in a final embrace.

“Him first,” said a voice from the darkness. “Then her.”

Garrett tensed minutely and I knew they’d put the muzzle of the gun against his head.

“You can kiss her, if you like,” said the one holding the gun.

I started to panic breathe because no , this couldn’t be it. There was so much I wanted to tell him. I had to thank him. I had to tell him I was sorry. I had to—

I felt his chin lift. I tilted my head back just in time to meet his lips as they came down on mine. I was panting, desperate. He was slow and deliberate and fueled by rage, arms cinching tight to crush me to him while his lips owned me, claimed me, made me his and the hell with tradition. I sobbed and clutched at his shoulders, molding myself to him. The tip of his tongue teased mine in that forbidden way that made me go weak: if we kissed hard enough, shut out all thoughts of everything else, maybe this would all go away—

“Enough,” said a voice.

I drew back from him, my vision swimming with tears, my chest tight with fear.

The one holding the gun to Garrett’s head, cocked it. Pushed the muzzle even tighter against his scalp.

Garrett drew in a quick, tight breath and I felt his arms tense: my first warning that he was about to do something. His eyes met mine and he gave a tiny nod. I saw it then, in that split second. He’d made a decision. One final sacrifice, after all the others he’d made. One final attempt to protect me.

He threw his weight to the side, pulling me with him.

We tipped over the safety rail.

The gun boomed as it went off.

And then we were falling towards the water three hundred feet below.