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Who cared about the gods-damned policy? What good were rules when death could waltz in and take whomever it wanted, whenever it felt like it?

River’s mouth was filled with sand, and words got stuck behind the lump in her throat. But this… this was her job. This was her calling.

She slowly pulled her gaze up from the earth fae to where Cynthia stood on the other side of the hospital bed. The Light Elf’s mouth was pinched in a thin line, and she nodded grimly.

Tight knots formed in River’s stomach, and she shook her head. She didn’t want to call this. Didn’t want it to be real.

Because if this fae could die…

A shudder ran through River, and she barely held back a sob. She looked back at the bed, but instead of Mrs. Valois, she saw her father. A pale ghost of the strong fae who had carried her on his shoulders when she was a little girl. Gone, forever .

Pain lanced through her, a sharp explosion in her gut, and she doubled over, gasping for breath.

Oh, gods, oh, gods, oh, gods.

“Doctor Waterborn!” someone called. Their voice was distorted, as if she were underwater.

Arnan’s hand tightened on hers, pulling her back to the moment. Her father no longer lay on the bed; the body belonged to Mrs. Valois once again.

Ripping her eyes away from the second patient she’d failed tonight, River looked at the digital clock on the wall. The red numbers were blurry, and she struggled to read them.

“Time of death, two forty-six a.m.,” she whispered brokenly, each word a sledgehammer against the dam holding her magic back.

The moment the last word left River’s lips, the crack in her soul silently exploded.

One moment, her curse was being held at bay. The next, it was flooding through her. Crushing, deadly waves demanded attention as they pounded through her veins.

River turned and ran. People were shouting at her, but she couldn’t hear them over the tumultuous storm cresting within her.

It was happening again.

Death had come to River’s workplace, and she’d been unable to stop it. This was the one place where she was supposed to be free from her curse, the one place where she was supposed to atone for her sins.

Now, it was tainted by death.

River shoved open the door to the stairwell and careened down the cement stairs. Her running shoes slammed against the steps, each footfall a deafening proclamation announcing her escape .

The sound seemed to draw her magic closer to the surface, and a sheen of water coated her hands. She was standing on a cliff, hovering over disaster. Every breath brought her closer to hurtling past the point of no return.

“No.” The word was a drawn-out, mangled moan as it escaped her lips.

She tried shoving her magic down, tried rebuilding the barriers keeping it from the world, but for each brick she managed to force into place, two more crumbled.

Her curse was free, and it was demanding her attention. No longer would it settle for being locked away or ignored. No longer would it remain in the background of her life.

Buzz, buzz, buzz.

River yanked her phone out of her back pocket without stopping her descent. Doctor Collins’s name flashed across the screen. She accepted the call, taking the steps three at a time.

“Yes?” Her voice was raspy and no longer sounded like hers.

“Get back to the ICU this instant, Doctor Waterborn,” he raged, irate. “If you don’t?—”

“I’m sorry, I can’t,” she gasped, hopping down to the ground floor landing. “I’ll be back tomorrow.”

Her superior was still screaming unintelligible words at her when she ended the call and shoved her phone into her pocket. Let him be angry. Imagine how furious he’d be if she called a storm down upon the hospital?

River shoved open the door, the cold slamming into her like an icy wall.

Her control slipped. Water gushed from her fingers, as if someone had opened a faucet on full blast.

“Fuck,” she cried out. She rarely cursed, but this moment was made for foul language .

Reaching within herself, she tried turning off the flow of magic, but it didn’t work. The faucet was stuck, and water jetted from her hands.

No, no, no . Clenching her teeth, River fought back against the curse. This can’t be happening .

She pushed back against the magic, desperate to slow it down. Sweat beaded on her brow, and her entire body ached.

Nothing would slow her storm, though. The ground was getting soaked beneath her feet. Her heart plummeted when she realized the truth of the matter. Her magic would not be contained. It streamed out of her, thickening the air like humidity on the warmest summer day.

Storm clouds gathered above her, having been called forth by her power. They were hers, and she was theirs. The rain. The clouds. The storm. She belonged to them.

Water poured from the sky as much as it did from her hands, as if the heavens were lamenting her loss of control with her.

She had to get out of here and find someone who could help her.

A sob crawled up her throat. Her arms and legs pumped as she raced through the hospital parking lot. She wove around stationary cars and bicycles. Passed a few people too involved in their own lives to notice a panicking fae.

By the time she reached the main street, rain was pouring from the sky in sheets. River was drenched, but it didn’t matter. She had to keep going.

Her magic was screaming in her veins. Thinking rationally was becoming more difficult with every passing second. She had to run as quickly as possible.

Cursing every moment that she’d chosen to sit on the couch to watch a sports game instead of running on a treadmill, River raced down the sidewalk. Shallow breaths hit her ears; her vision blurred from the endless rain.

There was only one person in Lakewater she trusted to help her, one person who might be able to help contain her curse before the storm turned deadly. She wasn’t sure he’d be there, nor was she certain he could help, but she had to take the risk.

She had no other choice.

Lightning crashed above River, rain fell from the heavens in an endless deluge, and her curse was a tempest in her veins. It battered against her, and she was powerless against it. It had destroyed every restraint she’d placed on it, demolished them in its desperate attempt to find freedom.

With every step, water gushed from River’s hands. With every step, the storm worsened.

She had no idea how long she’d been running before her destination came into view. All she knew was that her feet were sore, she was drenched, her shoes were waterlogged, and her muscles burned with the strain of keeping her magic at bay.

River raced past rows of red-brick townhouses, desperately scanning the numbers until she found the one she sought.

Please, gods, let him be here .

She’d memorized this address a year ago at Ryker’s insistence, but this was her first time coming here. Was he home? Would he be awake? Would he even help her?

She didn’t know, but she had to try. Gods help her, but she’d do anything to make the storm stop.

River took the steps two at a time. Her control was a fraying rope, and several strands slipped from her grip as she slid onto the landing.

Her feet squelched beneath her, the air thickened with the tang of magic, and thunder roared its displeasure.

She clenched her fists, pounding them on the door like the crazed fae she’d become.

She couldn’t stop thinking about the death she’d left in her wake.

Maybe if she’d been earlier and hadn’t gotten banned from the operating room, Lila would still be alive. Maybe if she’d been faster, Anya Valois wouldn’t have died.

Maybe, maybe, gods-damned maybe.

The maybes were a tornado in her mind, and her breath came in short spurts. Seconds that felt like hours passed before the door opened mid-knock.

Concerned amber eyes framed by rugged black hair met River’s gaze.

Even through the haze of magic pulsing through her veins, her heart recognized him.

Two ears rose to points above his inky hair, his cheekbones were sharp, and his beautiful, haunting eyes stared into the depths of her soul. All fae were beautiful, but he…

Gods above, he was everything . His beauty had a graceful, deadly edge, like a skillfully honed blade made to kill.

She wasn’t afraid of him. On the contrary, since the day they’d met, she’d been drawn to his innate sense of calm—a counterbalance to her storm.

That’s why she’d come.

“River?” He released the doorframe and reached for her. “What’s wrong?”

Her heart throbbed, and that age-old desire that had plagued her for years rose in her chest. She shoved it down, refusing to give it any of her attention.

That forbidden feeling would only complicate matters, and she couldn’t afford that.

She had minutes, maybe less, before her last threads of control slipped, and she unleashed death on the sleeping city of Lakewater.

Throwing herself into his arms, she buried her head against his chest and sobbed, “I need your help, Nikhail.”

A heartbeat passed. In that single moment of time, she wasn’t sure what he’d say. Maybe she’d been wrong in coming here. Maybe she’d made a mistake, and now, it would be too late.

Maybe she really was all alone.

Doubt was a dark, swirling mass in her mind. It tangled itself in her thoughts, an infection sweeping through her and dragging her towards despair.

Far above her, thunder boomed. Bolts of lightning lit up the night sky. Branches cracked as the wind whipped them around.

My magic does not control me. I control it .

The mantra had a frantic edge as River repeated it in her mind. The words weren’t helping—they were as empty as Mrs. Valois’s lifeless eyes.

River knew what would happen if she didn’t get this under control. It didn’t matter that nearly a decade had passed since the last time this had happened. She’d never forget the way magic had ripped from her chest, never forget the uncontrollable storm that had streamed out of her.

Rain, summoned from the depths of her soul.

Not a river, as her name implied. Not even a lake. An entire, gods-damned tempest.

That was what she struggled with every waking moment of every day. She’d never known true peace.

River had been born with death at her fingertips, and she’d never been able to escape her fate.

The dark mass of doubt grew in her mind when she realized Nikhail hadn’t spoken. She’d been wrong in coming here. He couldn’t help her. And now…

Now she was going to hurt people. Again . A tremor ran through her as she pulled her head away from his chest.

“I’m so sorry,” she gasped through tears. “I shouldn’t have come here. I just thought… but I was wrong.”

She was alone. That’s how it had always been, and that was how it would always be.

Trembling, River tried to gather strength to fling herself away. She had to leave, had to find a way out of the city before her curse destroyed everyone.

His hands tightened around her, and he fisted her scrubs.

“Don’t,” he said gruffly, pulling her against him. “Don’t go.”

River shook in his arms, a leaf blown by the wind.

“Don’t leave, River. I can help you.” His firm hold was unwavering, and for the first time since the code blue was called, she took a deep breath. “Just tell me what you need.”

That was the question of the hour, wasn’t it? The problem was, River needed so many things, she wasn’t sure where to start.

She needed not to be cursed. She needed to have her magic under control.

She needed her father to be cured from the Stillness.

She needed to turn back time and get to the hospital early.

Gods, if that were possible, she needed to go back to that horrible night when she was fifteen and not lose control of her magic.

There were so many things that in the end, she couldn’t say a single one of them.

“River?” Nikhail placed his thumb under her chin, drawing up her face as his eyes searched hers. “What do you need?”