Page 100

“Lucky for you,” Killian says, jolting me back to the present, “you missed my heart by an inch.”

“Lucky for you,” I say, tying off the makeshift bandage, “I’ve discovered you actually have one. Which is the only reason I’m helping you escape. Now come.”

With Killian leaning on me, we start to make our way out. But not before I take a moment to kneel beside this young version of Braxton.

Offering him a piece of the red cape I cut just for him, I gently clean the blood from his nose. Then, pressing the fabric into his palm, I whisper, “I’m deeply sorry for what you’re going through. Please know that your father loved you. He was immensely proud of you. And as hard as this is, you will persevere and find your way through. This, I assure you. For now, Elodie will look after you, and”—I cast a meaningful look her way—“you can trust her.”

For a fleeting moment, Braxton’s ocean-blue eyes meet mine, and a profound realization resonates deep in my soul. This is the reason I felt that unmistakable jolt of recognition when Elodie first showed me his photo.

As Braxton turns away, immersed in his grief, Killian and I step around Arthur, who, now lying on his side, fixes me with a wary look.

“It’s not over, Natasha,” he says, his voice strained, like it’s taking a great deal of effort to properly enunciate my name. “The circle is mine to control, and there’s no beginning or end. We will do this again, I assure you.”

I pause, the weight of his words nagging at me.Could it possibly be true? Has Arthur somehow trapped me in a loop?

“What’ve you done?” I cry. “Arthur—”

Killian tugs on my arm. “Ignore him,” he says. “He’s lost his mind, and I’m on the cusp of blinking right out of this mortal plane if you and I don’t get a move on.”

Leaving Arthur behind, Killian and I make our way to the portal, where we clasp our hands together and soar into an unknown future.

What’s past is prologue.

-William Shakespeare

Epilogue

Natasha

New York City

Present Day

Three Months Later

I often think back to the day I first arrived in New York.

How could I not?

It’s the day that marked the end of what little innocence I had left and shattered my belief in my own free will.

When Killian and I arrived in Central Park, Braxton was already there, anxiously waiting for us.

“What the hell?” he said, taking in my torn dress and Killian’s chest wound, slowly bleeding out.

“It’s a long story,” I told him. “But first, he needs help.”

“I spotted a cop over there,” Killian said. “But you have to pretend you don’t know me, so you don’t get dragged into this mess. Just tell him you found me like this.”

“Yeah, except I’m covered in your blood,” I reminded him. “And my clothes aren’t exactly a match for this century. Pretty sure he’ll put the two together.”

Killian groaned in frustration. Turning to Braxton, he said, “Be a gent, and give the lady your jacket. And Shiv,” he adds, “get the hell out of here. Your boy will look out for me.”

I shot Braxton a questioning look, not as convinced of his willingness to cooperate as Killian seemed to be.

“You’re here because of me,” Killian told him. Then, nodding toward me, he said, “A little confirmation might help.”

“I’ll explain later,” I said, responding to Braxton’s bewildered look.