Eira's pov
The fever returned like a wave crashing over me, salt and blood stinging my eyes in the memory of a nightmare I could never seem to wake from.
I saw him again. Felix. My fiancé. My husband. Standing just a few steps ahead of me in the streetlight's dim glow. His smile,it was crooked, charming, familiar. My safety. My center. And then, in a blink, it was gone.
The sound of the gunshot echoed louder than thunder.
My scream clawed out of my throat as his body jerked backward, crumpling like paper soaked in red. His eyes stayed on me until the light vanished. And standing behind the smoking barrel was him.
Draven.
The man with cold eyes and colder hands. His face was unreadable as he looked at me across Felix dying body, the gun still hot in his grip. And when I dropped to my knees, crying, cradling Felix head, it was Draven's voice that cut through the chaos.
"Bird," he had said. "You weren't supposed to be here."
Bird.
