ity, scorn, and morbid curiosity. She was the spectacle. The sacrifice. Before she reached the steps, her gaze drifted upward. She noticed the massive decorative arch framing th

rsory turn with a wrench before scurrying away. The

his handsome face tight with an emotion she couldn't place. It looked like anger, but there was something else t

began, his voice a solemn, powerful declaration that

RA

ral, a gunshot of splinteri

fetti. A massive crack spiderwebbed across the main beam of the decorative wooden arch that framed the stage. Th

s fal

center of the stage.

gs giving out from under her. Elara just stood there. A strange sense of peace

pulsed, a primal instinct screamed a single, stupid expectation: *He will save

lur of black fab

her. He didn't even brush her arm. He moved as if she were nothing more than air, a ghost already

shielding her completely as he drove them both off the side o

e his

atched

exploded in a showe

OO

ly under it, but a huge, splintered piece of timber, the

hit

rom her throat. It struck her shoulder and the side of her leg

s cut. Her grey dress, her mourning dress, bega

shouts. Through the haze, she saw him. Ryker was on his knees, his hands moving frantically over Cassia,

ssia sobbed into his chest, a masterf

k at the woman he was supposedly fated to, l

as the

nally snapped. The pain of it was a soul-deep agony th

LA

ed crowd. He dropped to his knees beside her, his face a mask of horror. "Elara," he choked ou

But she forced her eyes open for one last look. One

turning toward the commotion around the wreckage. But his foc

ouched Elara's lips. Th

unconsciousness finally cla