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My room is as beautiful as I remember. High ceilings, huge windows, an antique bed and vanity. It’s the kind of room any daughter would be grateful for—if it weren’t a cage in disguise. It all feels like a set someone built to convince me I’m loved.

But I know what real love feels like now.

It feels like early mornings with pancakes and coffee in mismatched mugs. It feels like Finn’s laugh in the kitchen and Jonah’s steady hand at my back. It feels like Mae falling asleep on my shoulder and Boone watching over us like a silent sentry. It feels like being chosen just for being me.

And I let it go.

I gave it up because I thought it was the only way to protect them.

What have I done?

It’s been three days since I left the cabin, but it feels like I’ve been gone forever.

Things haven’t gotten better. I don’t miss them less. If anything, I miss them more. And now, I’m standing in a wedding dress I never wanted preparing to marry a man I don’t love.

I stare into the mirror, hating what I see.

My mother designed this dress. She picked the shoes, the makeup and the jewelry. She even tried to dictate the expression on my face.

I will spend the rest of my life being someone else’s puppet.

But my men will still be alive. And Mae will grow up with them, happy and safe.

I fold my hands in front of me to stop myself from fidgeting. The silk gloves are too tight. I want to rip them off, but I don’t.

There are eyes everywhere. My “assistant” sits just outside my room. She hasn’t said much, but I know she’s here to make sure I don’t run.

Again.

The lace at my neckline starts to itch, a slow, creeping discomfort I can’t escape. I press my fingers to it, then drop my hands again.

I think about Boone. The growl in his voice when he said,“Touch her again and I’ll end you.”I think about Jonah and the way he held me like I was everything. I think about Finn and how he always made me feel better just being near him.

They are still my rocks. Even now. Even here.

A soft knock comes at the door. I don’t answer but a second later it opens anyway. The woman in the hallway pokes her head in.

“It’s time,” she says with a bright smile.

I take a deep breath. Then another. I turn from the mirror and walk toward the door.

I’m halfway through the door when I hear the commotion.

It’s not the loud crack of a gun, but the deep, concussive sound of something more deadly. The windows shudder. Somewhere down the hallway, someone shouts.

There’s more shouting, doors slamming, footsteps thundering. The sharp staccato of gunfire now cracks the air, and I can’t breathe.

I stumble back into the room followed by my assistant, who slams the door behind her.

Suddenly, my door flies open, the handle ricocheting off the wall with a thud. My assistant yelps and stumbles back.

I freeze.

Boone stands in the doorway, his hand outstretched, and he grabs me by the wrist with a firm grip. The moment our skin connects, I feel it. That invisible tether that had never actually snapped, no matter how far I ran.

“Time to go, sweetheart.” His voice is a low growl.

My knees buckle. I would collapse if not for his grip. Behind him, a shadow cuts across the hallway—Jonah. He moveswithout a sound, but bodies are hitting the floor. Two men who must have been standing guard hit the ground, each one struck down with laser precision.