Renee
The salt and rot of the docks hit me before I even saw the water. The rogues shoved me forward, rough hands biting into my arms, until we broke through the last stretch of shadows.
That’s when I saw him.
The man standing on the edge of the dock, next to a small motorboat rocking gently against its tether. His eyes were cold, calculating. And before my brain could even catch up, my chest seized with recognition.
I’d seen those eyes before. Seen him before in my dreams.
No—my memories.
The night my mother died.
The figure leaning over her as she struggled, as water bubbled past her lips. His hand pressing her down. The silent, terrible weight of him as her life slipped away.
It was him.
Rage exploded through me so violently my hands shook, I thrashed against the men holding me
