My hands tremble, sweat drenches my clothes, and self-preservation alone sustains me. I maneuver the car out of the graveyard, and then I floor it.

The vehicle tears down the street that leads into the city. Wind gusts through the shattered windows, whipping my hair around my face.

I can no longer see the encroaching aircrafts, but there’s no way I escaped undetected. The streets I drive are utterly abandoned. I’ve made myself a target simply by being on them.

Now that I’m free of my captors, I could simply pull over and flag down one of these jets. They’re likely the king’s. But I have no way of knowing whether they’d recognize me. They might mistake me for an enemy and gun me down.

And then there’s a larger matter of returning to the king. If I want to live, he’s my last chance. But what would a depraved king want with an injured, soon-to-be amputated woman who has no memory? I can’t imagine I’d like whatever he has in store.

No, better to die on my own terms than to live on his.

A bottle of amber liquid rests on the seat next to me, and I grab it, unscrewing the lid and lifting it to my nose. The astringent smell of alcohol burns my nostrils.

I bring it to my lips and take several swallows. I grimace at the taste and my stomach roils. But in its wake, a pleasant warmth spreads down my throat, taking the barest edge off the pain.

Once I get the chance to stop, I’ll pour the rest on my wound. At this point, I doubt it will do much good—the arm probably has to go—but I’m too desperate not to try.

Close up, the city is even worse off than I initially thought. I have to swerve around piles of rubble, and at one point, turn around and take an alternate route altogether. The structures that rise on either side of me have been tagged, and bullet holes riddle many of them.

There’s so much evidence of civilization, and yet I see not a single soul.

A sound like thunder rises up behind me. When I glance out my side view mirrors, I see a helicopter heading straight for me. It quickly overtakes the vehicle, before banking left and circling around.

“Fuck.”

I jerk the wheel and pull the car off into a subterranean parking garage.

Across the street a building rises high into the air. Most of its windows have long since fallen away, but it appears sturdy enough for me to occupy until the chopper passes.

Shoving the liquor bottle into my back pocket, I stumble out of the car and head for the skyscraper across the street. The stairwell inside cants a little to the side. The whole building is starting its slow slide back into the earth.

I make it up ten flights before I stagger out onto a random floor. This is the last push my body will endure. I can feel it in my marrow.

The plate-glass windows that once covered the outer walls are shattered. A howling wind slides through what remains, kicking up dust and stirring my hair.

The blades of the chopper beat outside, and I can hear a chorus of engines closing in on our location.

Somehow, the king has found me.

CHAPTER 5

Serenity

I PULL THE gun from the small of my back.

Heavy boots jog up the stairs. Despair sets in.

Sick, injured, but not free. Never free.

I back up as the king’s men pour out of the stairwell. There’s at least a dozen of them and they’re covered from head to toe in gear. Their guns are bared, but almost immediately their barrels swivel around the room, looking for threats other than the one in front of them.

One of men parts through the group and removes his helmet. I have to lock my knees to keep from falling.

The king.

My tormentor and my husband.

I don’t remember him, and yet a part of me aches with such ferocity that I know he’s imprinted in my bones. Or maybe it’s just the look in his eyes. It’s the first time I’ve seen compassion, and it railroads me.

There’s also a good dose of horror in those eyes of his. They track each of my features. He can see my sickness and my wounds.

With a shaky hand, I point the gun at that face. I don’t want to feel this way—like I belong to someone. I’d rather die than live a prisoner shuffled between two enemies.

Behind him, his men turn their weapons on me. The king holds up a hand and signals to his men to hold their fire.

“Put the gun down, Serenity.”

I don’t. I don’t react at all. I’m incapable of reacting, frozen between my heart and my head.

He should die.

He must live.

He needs to pay.

He wants me safe.

“Put it down.” I think he has an idea where my mind is because he’s coaxing. “You’re not going to shoot me.”

I cock the gun.

His body tenses at the sound, but he’s still edging forward. “You can’t kill me. You know this. My men will take you out if you don’t put the gun down and come with me.”

“I can’t.” I don’t know anything else besides this—fighting lost causes. I was always meant to go down with the ship, not to survive it.

“You can. My queen, you already have once before.”

I waver, searching for a memory that isn’t there.

My aim droops. A wave of dizziness passes over me and I stumble.

“Serenity?” Is it my imagination, or does the monster in front of me sound frightened?

I try to focus on the king, but my vision’s clouding. I fight to stay in the moment, but my body is finally, finally giving out.

The King

SERENITY’S EYES ROLL back. Ignoring my men’s warnings, I run the last distance between us and catch her as she falls, her gun clattering harmlessly to the floor.