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CHAPTER 1

Hadria

I leave the cafe with the bitter taste of disappointment sharper on my tongue than the increasingly-bad coffees I was served today.

Aurora hasn't shown. Of course she hasn't. What made me think she would choose me over the freedom I gifted her?

Stupid.

Weak.

Distance. I need distance before this foreign ache in my chest shatters me completely. Aurora has made her choice clear with her absence, and I promised to honor her choice. I just didn't ever really think she'd…

But I should have seen it coming. Of course I should have. A billion dollars, a dozen fake passports, and a whole world to explore, versus a dangerous criminal life lived in the dark hours of night—what other outcome would there be?

It's hard to walk away, though. I force myself to keep moving, barely noticing the people rushing by on the way home. They give me a wide berth, some primal sense warning them away from the predator in their midst.

If only they knew how utterly harmless I feel in this moment. How powerless. I give a hard laugh. This must be how Aurora has felt for her whole life. Ah, the irony…

I shove the vulnerability down deep where it can't touch me, like I have my whole life. I have to get out of here. Now. Before I do something stupid, like—like burst into tears.

I should never have allowed the foolish, fragile part of myself to hope she would return. I should never have set her free at all—but no. I can't think that. I've done a lot of bad deeds in my life, and I've done a few things I regret, but I can't regret giving Aurora Verderosa a chance at the freedom she deserves.

The freedom that her strength and her suffering earned her.

The knowledge that I've done one good thing in my life can be the cold comfort I cling to in a lonely bed back at Elysium.

Ah, God. Elysium. Where I'll finally have to admit to Lyssa and Mrs. Graves what I've done. What I allowed Aurora to do. I haven't even lied to them about her absence this week—told them only that she was safe and well and that her whereabouts was none of their concern.

It was true. But it didn't go down well. Mrs. Graves in particular insisted she had a right to know, was much angrier than I expected her to be, and took to avoiding me this week. I'm glad she did.

But now I'll have to explain. I'm really not sure how to go about it—or when, for that matter, since it's still so raw, so painful…and I can't even say that she said goodbye to them.

I'm halfway down the block by now. My steps slow, come to a halt. Because what if she has said goodbye? To them…or to me?

What if she left a note? One final message for me in that empty apartment?

The thought twists deep into my brain, excruciating and irresistible. Even the cruelest rejection from her in writing would be better than the endless silence awaiting me back in my fortress. And at least then I'd know for certain that she is truly gone.

I stand still like a rock in a stream as the foot traffic weaves around me, occasionally cursing at me for obstruction, but I ignore everyone. My chest is aching as though I've taken a knife to the ribs. Go back, whispers the shredded remains of my heart. Leave this place behind, insists the cold pragmatism of my mind. In the end, the heart wins out.

I was always a fool where Aurora was concerned. Why stop now?

I turn and force my leaden feet to carry me back across the distance, each step heavier than the last. Soon I'm pushing open the door of the apartment block, steeling myself to face the silent space upstairs. But I stop dead as soon as I cross the threshold, a massive bouquet of moon-pale blossoms sitting on the unattended front desk catching my eye. It only twists the jagged blade deeper. Jasmine, angel's trumpet, ghost orchids—all those ethereal flowers that flourished under Aurora's nurturing touch fill the bouquet in extravagant profusion.

I can't resist reaching out to touch it, and as my fingers brush the soft petals I'm transported back to the night garden at Elysium, to Aurora patiently coaxing out delicate new blooms in the darkness. Even then, when she was still my hostage, she'd filled my bleak world with light and beauty.

And now here stand these ghostly blooms, reminding me of all I've lost.

But something prickles my skin as I study the flowers. They are suggestive of a wedding, so white and pure…so like those flowers that filled the church at the wedding from which I first stole her.

Too alike.

And when I look around the foyer, there's a shattered electronic tablet on the marble floor nearby, its screen a spiderweb of cracks. Dread runs a finger down my back, cold and creeping.

This is wrong. All wrong.

I'm moving before I'm even aware, punching at the elevator call button with the side of my fist as I take out my gun. Come on, come on. The waiting is interminable, seconds stretching endless before the doors slide open. I slip inside and jab the button for Aurora's floor.