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Note To Readers

This book is intended for readers 18+ who enjoy dark and explicit themes. Reader discretion is advised. For detailed content warning information, please click here.

Dedication

For Gabriela Avecillas. Thank you for your help when I needed it.

1

December 17th

Winter air nips at my bare arms, sending a shiver racing down my limbs. In the distance, waves collide with jagged cliffs, and I focus on the rhythm until it storms through me. The darkness steals my vision of the sea, but that sound is a potent elixir, an inducer of the mental fog I crave.

God, it’s all I want right now.

Being near the ocean does that to me. Soothes the turmoil. Calms my breathing. Distorts all the things I can’t bring myself to face. It’s a small mercy, this gift of oblivion.

Beautiful oblivion.

Despite the frigid air, I’m content to stand on the edge of nothing, because I feel nothing here. It would be so easy to let go and fly, to claim the type of nothingness that’s permanent.

Eternal.

Does peace exist in such a place? I can’t help but think it does.

“Novalee!”

A sharp voice tears through my solitude, and I pivot to find Liam standing behind me on the balcony. In the moonless dark, his coppery hair masquerades as black—a striking contrast to the snowflakes drifting between us. One by one, they land in silent defeat on the floor.

I don’t remember how I got here, but I resent him for interrupting the only bit of peace I’ve had since…

My stomach revolts at where that thought tries to stray.

“How long have you been out here?” Liam’s gaze lifts over my shoulder, chasing a view the night won’t give him.

The sun must have set hours ago, though that doesn’t seem right. Wasn’t I just swirling a spoon through thick, tasteless oatmeal at the breakfast table? It should bother me that I can’t recall the time between then and now, but it doesn’t.

“Novalee.” His insistent tone is on the gruff side as he takes my hand. “Did you hear me?”

“What?” Blinking, I fixate on his thumb as it glides back and forth across the back of my hand. That gesture is hypnotic, trance-like…

Going back and forth and back and forth and back⁠—

“Let’s get you inside.”

I jump at his voice, which only makes his forehead wrinkle in concern. Gently, he guides me through the door and into my private quarters in the House of Aries. The next thing I know, I’m settled in a chair, cocooned in a warm blanket, while Liam rubs life back into my arms through the soft material.

“How long were you out there?” His brows knit together. “You’re frozen to the bone.”

His jacket and tie are absent, and my gaze stalls on his collarbone. He’s dressed casually for the evening, with the top three buttons of his shirt undone. Something about his skin beckons. Without conscious thought, I work my arms out of the blanket and trail my fingers over his throat.

He’s smooth and warm and⁠—

“Novalee.” His thick murmur halts my hand. “You’re worrying me.”

“Why?”

“Because I found you freezing in the snow,” he says, brows arching in disbelief, “without a jacket or a pair of shoes. What were you doing out there?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

I’m sure if I think long and hard, I can come up with an explanation, but I don’t have the energy. Besides, the sad truth is…

“I don’t remember.”

Liam’s mouth tightens into a thin line, yet his touch remains gentle as he cups my cheek. “Tell me what to do, please.”

“There’s nothing,” I whisper, the emptiness inside me growing deeper.

A soft knock interrupts the grave moment, and my bedroom door opens to reveal Vance. The sudden appearance of the doctor sends a jolt of adrenaline through me, and I sit up straight as hope crashes into my chest, tangling with a complex blend of anger and fear.

Because I don’t trust hope—not when it’s done nothing but yank me around in unabashed violence since the day I was born.

And yet…

I can’t help but ask the only question worth asking. “Did they find him?”

Vance gives his blond head a solemn shake. He normally wears his hair in a ponytail, but now it falls past his shoulders, wild and messy, like he’s been running his fingers through it all day.

“No sign of survivors,” he says quietly. “Axel’s body was recovered a few days ago, but…”

Dread bands around my chest. “But they’re still looking, right?”

Liam rises to join Vance, and my gaze darts between them, desperation cresting. No one speaks at first, and that’s when I ache for the numbness of winter air, the crash of waves, the endless dark.

The fog.

God, bring the fog back, because I can’t face the answer written in Vance’s expression—as if he’s trying to swallow the words so he won’t have to say them out loud.

“It’s been a week, Novalee.”

A week.

Seven days.

168 hours.

10,000 and some odd minutes since Sebastian’s plane went down, and my world imploded.

It feels longer.

It feels like it happened five minutes ago.

That day is a blur, just distorted images I don’t want to remember, and yet I still recall Liam and the Brotherhood ambushing me in my studio with the news. Can still smell Liam’s spicy cologne as he engulfed me in his arms. Still hear the wailing and screaming.

My screaming.

At some point, Vance sedated me, and that’s the last thing I remember about that day.

“So?” Hysteria holds my vocal cords hostage for a beat. “I don’t care if it’s been a month. He could have deployed a raft, made it to an island, or…something.”

Pity.

I despise that mask more than anything. Vance wears it now as he crouches in front of me. “They called off the search.”

A glacier fist squeezes my heart, and I want to scream against the agony. Pain floods my senses, burning my nose, pounding at my temples, coiling around my neck.

It’s too much.

I can’t do this.

The clock above the armoire counts the seconds in a stoic rhythm I can’t help but embrace.

Tick, tick, tick.

“Did you hear me?” Vance slides his hand into my hair, pulling my attention back to him.

“I heard you.”

“I’m so sorry,” he says, his tone a strangled apology.

“No.” I grind my molars, refusing to accept his words. “He’s coming home.”

“He’s gone.” Liam lets out an unsteady breath. “They both are.”

Clinging to denial, I glance at the bedroom door, convinced Sebastian will burst through it and tell me how this is all a huge mistake.

A terrible misunderstanding.

“He’s not coming back, love,” Vance says, reading my thoughts with unnerving accuracy.

The hands on the clock continue their relentless march, but time might as well grind to a halt. Blood rushes through my ears, muting the reality of this nightmare. I can’t accept what they’re telling me.

What if the rescue team didn’t search in the right spot?

What if the flight’s trajectory didn’t go as planned?

What if someone else rescued him, and he’s injured, or…or suffering from amnesia?

Tears prick at my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall. If I break down again, Vance will only sedate me. I force myself to my feet and let the blanket fall to the floor. Grief boils inside me as I make my way to the windows where the vastness haunts me. Sebastian could be out there somewhere, a thousand miles away, washed up on some shore that’s hopefully not as cold as here.

He could be bleeding and broken, but alive.

He has to be alive.

The alternative isn’t an option. I have to believe he’s fighting to survive, counting on a heroic and miraculous rescue. He and Tatum are both relying on us to not give up.

Except everyone is giving up.

Liam’s words filter through my head, a mournful chant of inescapable truth. No matter how much I want to, I can’t unhear what he said.

He’s gone.

A hiccuping sob builds, and I shake my head as the tears I’ve been holding back cling to my lashes. “I can’t accept this.”

Vance clears his throat. “You have to.”

A scorching tear streaks down my cheek, followed by a deluge. As my vision blurs, I sink to the floor in voiceless, gut-wrenching sobs. My chest heaves and burns, wracked with grief. God, the pain…

Unbearable.

Footsteps rush across the room, closing the distance to where I’m broken on the floor. Letting out a choked sound, Liam reaches me first and wraps me in his arms, squeezing the breath from me as if he can cast out my grief and take it on himself.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers into my hair, again and again, rocking me to the ticking of that clock. But time is sadistic, because the thought of enduring another second without Sebastian is more than I can bear.

2

The same tumultuous body of water that stole the man I love now mocks my pathetic existence beyond the windows. I’m hollowed out as I stare at the sea. Minutes bleed together, forcing me through the hours like a forgotten ghost haunting the penthouse floor. Maybe I am an apparition. Spirits don’t eat or sleep, and I haven’t done much of either since I found out Sebastian’s plane went down somewhere over the ocean.

Ghosts don’t breathe, either, and somewhere in the back of my mind, I wonder if this pain will vanish if I just…stop breathing.

The morbid notion makes me gasp, and I inhale two quick breaths before letting them out in a slow exhale.

There’s a Sebastian-sized hole in my chest, yet my stupid heart keeps beating for him. My mutinous brain won’t let go either, replaying our last phone call, tethering me to the phantom echo of his voice.

“Remember when you told me you’d never break, not for me or anyone?”

“I remember.”

“Promise you’ll stay strong, no matter what.”

“I’ll be strong when you get home.”

“Novalee,” he warns. “Promise me.”

“I’ll stay strong…as long as you promise to come back to me.”

“I promise, princess. I’ll be home as soon as I can.”

I guess we both lied.

Because he’s not here.

And I’m not strong.

The door creaks open, shattering my destructive musings, and Selma steps inside with a tray.

“Good afternoon, my queen.” Liam’s housekeeper sets my lunch on the table in front of me, her smile exuding warmth. “I hope you have an appetite. The chancellor won’t be happy that you didn’t eat breakfast.”

“Where is he today?” I ask, increasingly aware of his dwindling patience for my despondency. Each time he brings me food or tries to coax me into some semblance of myself, the worry etched on his face chips away at my defenses. He hasn’t breached my walls yet, but knowing him, it’s only a matter of time before he busts through.

“The legacy members arrived this morning.” Selma lifts the lid off a silver platter of gourmet lunch offerings. “Chancellor Castle is in a meeting with them now.”

My back stiffens. “A meeting about what?”

A furrow tugs at her brows. “That’s a question for the chancellor when he returns.” She exits the room before I can press her further.

I glance at the artisan sandwich and salad I have no intention of eating. A hunger pang tears through my gut, but the idea of putting food into my mouth, let alone swallowing it, makes me nauseous.

Letting out a sigh, I pick up my fork, knowing Liam will be upset if I don’t at least make an effort. I take a nibble, my gaze drifting to the sea, soothed by the faint sound of waves breaking against the rocky cliffs.

At some point, he returns, and I realize the sky has deepened to a dull gray. Fresh snowfall blots out the late afternoon sun, casting my quarters in shadow. Disoriented and confused, I glance around the room, once again wondering how time passed by without me.

Liam settles into the chair on the other side of the table, where my lunch sits untouched between us. Wait…barely touched, since one corner of the sandwich has a bite missing. I don’t remember eating it, so it’s probably safe to assume I sampled the salad, too.

“You’re still not eating.” He crosses his muscular arms, a preamble to the battle he’s about to wage.

“I tried.” With a gesture at the evidence of the bite I’d taken, I add, “No one else has been here to touch it.”

At least…I don’t think anyone has. Did I nod off in my seat? It would be a miracle if I had, since every time I close my eyes, I see Sebastian the way I left him in Los Angeles over a week ago.

Two weeks ago?

However many the days, he was alive, and he was mine.

With a sigh, Liam runs a hand over the unkempt scruff shadowing his jaw. “You can’t go on like this.”

Shrugging a shoulder, I fiddle with the useless fork on my plate. “I don’t know what you want from me.”

“I want you to try.”

When I fail to respond, an uncomfortable stillness fills the air.

“The legacy members are here,” he says.

“Selma told me.” I give him a pointed look. “Though she wouldn’t tell me why.”

His fingers tap an irritating dance across the table. “You know why.”

Stubbornly, I shake my head. The why is unbearable.

“The auction must go on,” he says, pinching the bridge of his nose as his eyes fall shut. “And with Tatum and Sebastian gone⁠—”

“Stop.”

Please, I can’t do this.

His hooded gaze promises harsh truths, making me squirm in my seat.

“What will it take to get through to you? Because I’m at a loss.” Agitated, he runs his fingers through his hair, tousling the deep copper strands. “I’ve tried giving you space to grieve, stood as your rock when you needed it, but you’ve been impossible to reach. Everyone’s worried sick.”

“Who?” I ask, absently stabbing a piece of wilted lettuce with my fork.

“Landon and Elise, Vance, Ford, Faye…”

“She called?”

He raises a brow. “She spoke to you over the phone. Do you not remember?”

I shrug again, lacking the energy needed to explain how I sort of do, but I can’t recall a single detail of the conversation—just like I can’t remember what Landon and Elise said when they came to check on me.

“Novalee…” He trails off, releasing a heavy breath. “This isn’t healthy. I know you’re overwhelmed with grief, and rightfully so, but refusing to accept what happened will only make it harder for you to heal.” He pauses, his words hanging in the air between us. “He’s gone.”

“If he’s gone,” I spit out, emphasizing each word, “then so am I.”

His complexion drains of color. “What are you trying to say?”

“I-I don’t know,” I stammer, my words tinged with a blend of anger and sorrow. “I just…I don’t want to be here anymore.”

“But you are here, and pretending otherwise won’t change what’s coming, because we still have an auction to face.” Liam leans in, forehead creased as our eyes lock. “Everything has changed. I’m brainstorming another plan with Landon, but I need you to try. Your transition into the House of Capricorn is tomorrow.”

“I don’t care about tomorrow,” I say through gritted teeth.

Liam drags a hand down his face. “We’ll discuss this later. Right now, there’s something else we need to address.”

“Something else?” I scoff, my tone dripping with sarcasm. “Is the collapse of my world only a minor inconvenience to be dealt with later?”

He blinks, taken aback by my snark. “Of course not.”

“Then what could be more important?”

“The Brotherhood is hosting a special dinner in honor of the legacy members tonight.”

“So?”

“Your presence is required.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Too bad.” He stands to his full height, arms crossed, his posture immovable. “Dinner’s in an hour. You need to shower and dress properly.”

“I don’t want to go.”

“You don’t have a choice.” With one swift motion, he pulls me from the chair and hauls me over his shoulder, drawing a startled squeal.

“Put me down!” I shout, thrashing against his solid grip.

Ignoring my protests, he strides into my private bathroom, turns on the shower head, and sets me on my feet.

“Can you stop fighting me for once?” Frustration cuts through the question, but then his voice softens. “Let me take care of you.”

We stand close, chests brushing against each other as the air thickens, and in a dizzying moment, I surrender.

“Okay.”

“Good girl.” He lifts the hem of my silk nightgown, and the last of my resistance melts away. I’m held captive as he slips it from my body, discarding it on the floor.

With a silent apology in his gaze, Liam sinks to his knees and hooks his fingers into my panties. His touch is gentle, warm knuckles gliding down my thighs as he strips me bare.

Something dormant and undeniably wrong stirs.

My breath catches.

His does, too.

“Novalee…” he whispers, his irises the color of burnished wood.

It’s still there, that pull between us, battling the stormy waters of devastation, grasping for a lifeline as he regards me with love, support, and compassion.

God help me, but his desire sparks the smallest of flames in the most hidden part of myself.

Since Los Angeles, he’s been by my side, worrying over the meals I refuse to eat, swallowing his disappointment at the untouched sketchbook he left on my nightstand, and sleeping in my bed to keep the nightmares at bay.

And yet, this growing closeness feels like a betrayal.

A sickening one.

The tension snaps when Liam rises to his feet, and I track the deliberate slide of his fingers as he unbuttons his shirt. Fabric falls to the floor, followed by his pants. I can’t help but gawk at his sculpted arms, the sharp definition of his abs. Every detail is carved with raw, masculine beauty.

“Get in the shower,” he says, his tone thick with an emotion I can’t quite place.

As I step under the warm spray, I sense him reaching for my plumeria-infused soap. With patience, he washes me, his hands tracing over curves and dipping into valleys, pausing at the back of each knee. The brush of his touch exudes tender intimacy, transporting me back to another time, another shower, another man.

The pain returns full force, spreading through my chest until I can’t breathe. I squeeze my eyes shut and try to stifle a whimper, but it escapes.

“You’re safe with me, my sweet girl.” The warmth of his voice almost fractures my protective barrier. Tears burn, threatening to drag me from my mental fortress.

“Don’t make me cry.”

“I’m not trying to.” He frames my damp cheeks, his features weighed down by fear. “But you’re slipping further away, and I’m scared of losing you.”

Water cascades over us, droplets pouring down my face, some of them salty on my trembling lips.

“I can’t,” I say, barely audible above the sound of the shower. “If I start crying again, I won’t stop. I don’t want Vance to drug me.”

Liam takes me into his arms, and though he doesn’t say anything in response, his silence speaks volumes. He needs me to hold it together.

But I don’t know if I can.

“I miss him so much.”

“I know.” He grips the back of my head, pulling me closer. “He loved you.” A thick gulp travels down his throat. “Sebastian wouldn’t want you to suffer like this.”

Flinching at the mention of his name, I drown in waves of memories, from the fiery arguments to the passionate moments that now make my chest tighten. His voice drifts through my head with a vividness I hope never abandons me.

“Tell me you love me.”

“I love you.”

I’d responded without hesitation that day in the elevator, after Landon and Elise’s wedding, with my knees against the gritty floor. I can almost feel Sebastian behind me, holding me by the neck as he drove himself into my ass. The memory should launch me into a black hole of shame, but I’d never experienced such raw passion and desperation until then.

I’m terrified I won’t ever feel that way again.

He’s gone.

I shake my head, casting out the rebellious thought, but a sob bursts free anyway. Liam’s arms tighten around me, giving me the sanctuary I need right now, but as I lean into him, my heart breaks under the burden of betrayal. Another sob escapes, and I will the dam not to bust open.

“This is killing me,” he chokes out. “You don’t have to suffer alone. I’m here. You’ll always have my heart and soul.”

“I know.” I hold on to him with all that’s left of me.

I’m not sure how long we stand under the spray, but at some point, the water begins to cool, the hot stream giving way to icy drops that feel like pins and needles on my skin. Liam releases me, and then I’m standing outside the shower, tucked inside a soft towel as my feet sink into a plush bathmat.

He tugs on his slacks before grabbing the rest of his clothing. “Can I count on you to get ready for dinner?”

All I can do is nod, my throat too constricted.

“Good girl,” he says, pressing his lips to my forehead. “I’ll wait for you in the sitting room.”

3

Expensive cologne and pan-seared lamb fill my nostrils, making my stomach twist with unease. A thick cloud of tension hangs over the dining room, heavy with anger and grief, a jarring contrast to the opulent chandelier, china, and formal wear.

Then there’s the sheer number of men crowded around the circular table. Some didn’t appreciate our late arrival—especially Sebastian’s father, whose palpable anger struck the instant Liam and I sat down.

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