Chapter 7

Evelyn clutched the ring tight in her palm. The engraving that promised two people would be together forever pressed itself into her skin.

Light and heavy at the same time. Light enough that the mark faded within seconds, yet heavy enough that the promise burned straight through to her heart.

She drifted back to the tiny stairwell room in a daze, biting down hard on her lip to keep from making a sound.

The villa stayed unusually quiet for the next few days.

Caspian didn't seem to be home. Her position here felt more awkward than ever, though the servants had long since gotten used to treating her like she wasn't there.

They wouldn't prepare breakfast for her, so she started making it herself.

Kiera came downstairs just then, wearing an ivory silk slip dress with Caspian's dress shirt draped loosely over it. Loose enough that Evelyn could clearly see the marks on her skin.

She curved her lips into a satisfied smile. "You're still here? I figured you'd have moved out by now. After all—"

She paused, raised her hand. The diamond on her ring finger caught the light and blazed. "Once Caspian and I are married, there won't be any place for you in this house."

Evelyn was about to respond when a sharp ringtone cut her off.

Kiera glanced at her phone screen, then tilted her head at Evelyn with a syrupy smile and put it on speaker. "Caspian?"

She liked letting Evelyn hear how Caspian talked to her on the phone.

Watching Evelyn try to look like she didn't care when she clearly did had become one of Kiera's favorite things.

"Caspian? Why aren't you saying anything?"

Heavy breathing came through the line. Then a stranger's voice, thick with a Mexican accent.

"We have your fiancé. Five million dollars. You've got forty-eight hours. Call the cops, and we'll mail you his fingers one by one."

The call ended.

Evelyn's mind went completely blank. She knew that voice. She knew it like a wound that never healed. It was the cartel boss who had killed her father.

Her body moved before her mind caught up. She slipped into the storage room and dialed Garrett. "Track Caspian's location. Now. He's been kidnapped. I think it's connected to that Mexican cartel."

Garrett got back to her fast. "You're right. Same guy who killed your father. He's at an abandoned warehouse near the border."

"You can't go." Garrett seemed to read her mind. "Evelyn. Six days. In six days you're supposed to fake your death. I don't care what history you two have. You work for the FBI. If you blow your cover, three years of planning goes up in smoke—"

"I know." She cut him off, paused for a beat, then hung up.

She knew exactly what was at stake. She knew she could call the police and let them handle it, or let Kiera scramble to raise the ransom. But she couldn't risk it. What if the cartel had taken Caspian because of her? What if this was about getting back at her?

A thousand scenarios flashed through her mind. The color drained from her face. She stood up, pulled the Glock 19 from the hidden compartment in her suitcase, got in the car, and floored it.

She drove with her foot flat on the accelerator and found the abandoned warehouse two hours later.

The thermal imager showed only two heat signatures, fewer than she'd expected. She felt a small wave of relief. This wasn't a targeted move against her. They hadn't taken Caspian to get to her.

Her face hardened. She chambered a round and fired without hesitation. The first shot caught one of the kidnappers in the knee.

He screamed and went down. The other one spun around and opened fire in her direction.

Evelyn rolled behind cover. A bullet grazed her ear and blew chunks out of the concrete wall behind her.

She took a breath, leaned out from behind the cover, and fired twice.

She stepped over the men on the ground, swept her flashlight across the stacked wooden crates, and found the figure huddled in the corner.

Caspian was tied to a pipe. His white shirt was soaked through with blood.

His right eye was completely sealed shut with dried blood. His left eye socket had swollen to a narrow slit. Dried blood ran from the corner of his mouth all the way down to his chin.

He heard footsteps and flinched violently, his bound hands clenching uselessly.

Evelyn crouched in front of him and reached out, touching his cheek as gently as she could.

Caspian coughed up a few drops of dark red blood. His voice trembled. "Who are you?"

She didn't answer. She cut the rope with her knife. Without the support, Caspian pitched forward, and she pulled him into her arms. They hadn't been this close in a long time.

He was so much lighter than she remembered. The bones of his shoulders pressed into her chest and actually hurt.

"You came to rescue me?"

He buried his face in the curve of her neck, his voice muffled.

He breathed her in like he was starving for it, and kept repeating, somewhere between a murmur and something more conscious, "How are you here?"

Evelyn didn't explain. She got his arm over her shoulder. "Can you walk? My car is a ways out. We need to move now. They might have backup."

Caspian heard her and forced himself up. His left leg was broken. Every step made him hiss through his teeth.

Evelyn looped his arm over her shoulder and half-dragged him toward the exit, her arm around his waist. She could feel the blood soaking through his shirt, warm and sticky, and her brow creased with something she couldn't quite suppress.

They hadn't made it two hundred yards before they heard an engine roaring behind them.

Evelyn looked back. A black pickup was barreling straight at them.

Her stomach dropped. "Run."

Caspian pushed himself forward, but his injured leg slowed them both down.

Evelyn felt Caspian's hot blood dripping onto her arm while her senses locked onto the truck closing in behind them. Her hearing was sharp enough to catch the metallic click of a round being chambered.

She made a decision. She pressed the car keys into Caspian's hand. "Head straight north. The car's behind that rock. GPS is on. Get in and drive straight to the border checkpoint. Don't look back."

Caspian grabbed her wrist. "What are you going to do—"

A gunshot cut him off. Evelyn stepped in front of him and returned fire. She had four rounds left.

It took her third shot to blow out the pickup's tire. The truck fishtailed across the dirt and slammed into a Joshua tree. Someone inside swore, jumped out, and leveled a shotgun.

Evelyn shoved him forward and dropped her voice. "Go! Go!"

Caspian stumbled a few steps, then turned to look back at her. His eyes struggled to open, still barely a slit, unable to focus.

For a moment his expression looked exactly like it had seven years ago, his whole body wrapped in bandages, typing out those words with the only fingers he could still move.

It broke her heart. She almost reached out to him without thinking. But then the gun went off.

Not hers.

Something slammed into Evelyn's chest. Bright red blood bloomed through the front of her shirt. Strange. It didn't hurt much. She just felt cold, cold all the way through, like she'd been dropped into a freezer.

She went down on her knees, then fell forward. The gravel pressed against her cheek and stung.

She heard Caspian calling her name. She wanted to say "go, don't worry about me", but her lips moved, and nothing came out.

The taste of iron filled her mouth. Her vision blurred at the edges.

The last thing she saw was Caspian, carried by the car into safety, while she lay in a spreading pool of blood, her heart slowing, beat by beat, until it stopped.