Jasper's POV
The knife shook in my hand. I could barely hold it. My whole life I'd talked my way out of everything, charmed my way past every wall, but there was no charming this. There was only blood and salt and the roar of the sea below the wreckage, and Lina's face going the color of ash beneath me.
"I'm sorry," I whispered. "I'm so sorry."
I pressed the blade to her skin.
"Move, boy. Move or she's dead."
The voice cut through the storm like something out of an old nightmare, low and rough and impossibly steady. A hand closed over mine, iron-hard, and wrenched the surgical blade out of my grip before I could so much as breathe.
I whipped around.
An old man stepped off the plane nearby, his scarred face unreadable. I didn't know who he was or why he'd come. I only
